When cars had names and personality

When Cars Had Names 

Return With Us Now to Those Thrilling Days of Yesteryear

There was a time—not all that long ago—when automobiles didn’t need a jumble of letters and numbers to identify themselves. Back then, cars wore names. Names with personality. Names that told a story.

1955 Oldsmobile Ninety Eight, Photo by Infrogmation

Think back to the Dodge Coronet. I owned one from 1967 to 1972. The very word evoked dignity and royalty. Or the Plymouth Valiant, (I drove two versions owned by my parents) which conjured up bravery and grit—just the kind of name a middle-class family wanted as they packed the kids in for a Sunday drive. Over at Pontiac, you had the Chieftain, a car that sounded like it ought to be leading the parade. Later, Pontiac gave us the Grand Am, which promised both luxury and a nod to the racing circuit at the same time.

These names weren’t just marketing; they were poetry on chrome. They carried with them a sense of place and aspiration. A Malibu made you think of surfboards and California sunshine. A Continental sounded like it belonged on an ocean liner, drifting from New York to Paris. A Buick Park Avenue conjured up, well, NYC’s Park Avenue. Even a modest Nova hinted at space travel and the optimism of the Space Age.

Compare that to today, when cars are labeled like lab equipment: the X3, Q5, GLC, or CX-30. Functional, perhaps, but soulless. You’d be hard-pressed to imagine a child fifty years from now waxing nostalgic about Grandpa’s trusty “RX-350.” But plenty of people today still smile when they recall their first Impala, Mustang, Firebird or, in my case, Falcon. 

The magic of those old names was that they were aspirational. They transported you, even before the car left the driveway. A teenager could dream about a Charger or a Road Runner and feel the thrill of speed. A parent could sit behind the wheel of a Fairlane or Bonneville and believe, for a moment, they were part of something stylish and modern.

In those thrilling days of yesteryear, cars weren’t just transportation—they were characters. Each one had a name, and each name carried a promise.

Maybe that’s what’s missing today. The machines may be sleeker, faster, and smarter than ever, but they’ve lost a little of their soul. Perhaps it’s time for the automakers to bring back the poetry, and give us once again a car we can fall in love with—by name.

Stephen M. Flatow