One of my first and very important jobs I had as a new-parent-to-be (along with my husband), was deciding on what name to give our child. There were so many options we could consider, literally endless. And the importance of choosing correctly, that this child would have to wear this name and identify with it for life, well… there was a bit of pressure involved. But I think we succeeded. Creed was the name we gave our oldest, and I have no regrets about this decision. (I do have regrets about his younger brother, Traben, not understanding the source of his brother’s name. Recently, the boys were being introduced to someone and Traben pointed out a simple and highly incorrect fact, “My brother’s named after the band, Creed!” Um, heck no! And as we tried to recover that, Creed followed up with a response of, “No I’m not!!! Mom and dad hate that band!” Which left me laughing yet worried about how Creed feels about his name.) Personally, decent-turned-crappy-bands and creepy-characters-from-the-office-tv-show aside, I love the name Creed. He’s actually named after a character in a book, and the meaning is his name is “power in faith.” Not bad, right? As for Traben, well, let’s just say I really liked one of my bass guitars and he was privileged enough to be named after it. The added bonus is, I’m guessing he wont have to worry about having many kids in his classes with the same name.
After these decisions, I’m realizing more and more how important names are, that they aren’t just an identity, but have almost a power that comes with them. It would seem that certain character traits are inherent with the names. Some names tend to come with more strengths, some appear to bring about more grace and some bring about more randomness. Sadly, I think we can all think of particular names that we relate ill traits to as well. You know, that name where you automatically cringe when you hear it?
I like to think that I’m in tune with the whole idea of a name being something more meaningful than a label, something of utmost importance and something to be grateful to be gifted with. (this is not the time to bring up the fact that I don’t even go by my actual name 95% of the time) Taking all things into consideration, you’d think I’d learn to not name things without thought. Yeah, I said things, as in inanimate objects. I now know I should never have named my laptop “Trouble.” That was a costly lesson, and brought about awareness for the need to keep fire extinguishers handy while using computers.
Where am I going with this? What’s up with all the talk of names? I’m really starting to think I need to rename my car. Yes, this post is really about my car. Again. I’m sorry, but it never seems to end with this thing. Why? Because I gave it a name. A name that will continue to haunt me until me until it’s changed. But a name I haven’t had the heart to replace yet. I named the car “Problem Child.” Originally, I chose this name because it’s red, the movie Problem Child used to crack me up and well, it was difficult to get home. I had no clue that journey home would be only the beginning of my difficulties.
For the record, it’s been over a week and my insurance company still hasn’t been able to give me a policy for insuring it. Apparently, not everyone has heard of a 1983 Pininfarina Azurra Spider 2000. Including State Farm. Consider yourself fortunate enough to be educated on this, as you are now smarter than the average insurance agent and DMV employee.
But insurance policies are not the topic of current discussion. Why the gripe today? The DMV is trying to kill me, one piece of paper at a time. After the whole ordeal of getting the title sorted out (want to read about how I recently told a DMV employee they needed their eyes checked? Read this-Confessions:the DMV edition), I received a letter stating that the state needed more information. Because seeing the car in person was not enough, apparently. They needed me to take pencil rubbings of the VIN numbers. (Which is actually kind of funny, as it’s like they’re confirming my suspicions that the local workers eyes were inadequate and couldn’t do the job right in the first place. Maybe I should call that round a victory for myself after all?) So, I sent off the papers with the info they requested and my statement that they already had people look at the actual car and an actual DMV office. And then I waited. And waited. Paperwork takes a lot of time. Especially if the government is involved.
Well, today was the big day. THE BIG DAY!!!! The title arrived! It came! I could see it with my eyes, I could feel it, I could open it and see it in all of its glory!!!
Yeah, that glory was short-lived. The DMV fouled up. I mean, I know it’s hard to envision a government entity making a mistake, but they made one. A lame one. See, they changed what I wrote on my paperwork and called my car what they wanted to call it.
After all of the work I’ve put into getting the papers correct, they titled it as a Fiat. A Fiat! Please don’t think that I dislike Fiats, I really do like them. It’s just my car is not one. Fiat didn’t make Spiders after 1982 and my car is a 1983. My car was the only design to actually be worthy of bearing the name Pininfarina, and it’s one of only about 1000 that came to the US. And if you know high-end cars, you know that Pininfarina is a designer of many vehicles, including; Rolls-Royce, Maserati, Ferrari, Lancia… Maybe you can see why I would like it to be called what it is? That and I’m just stubborn and want to have things go my way.
So, I will be calling the DMV again. And try to sort this out. Again. And hopefully I will be able to get a title with the correct name for my car. Until then, I’ll be trying to think of a new name for it. And I’ll be wishing I lived in a state that allows for more characters on a licence plate than Oregon does. If I had it my way, I would be able to have eight letters, and I would totally splurge for a vanity plate. What would it say?
If you have any ideas for a new name for my car, feel free to pass them along. Apparently, I need all the help I can get!