Why do automakers keep branding their vehicles with these ludicrous names? Some of them sound grandiose, but when reduced to their basic etymological form, mean nothing. Some of them clearly mean nothing to begin with. The most ambitious names are the ones that bug me most—they seem to have been haphazardly lifted from the pages of a seventh-grade social studies book. For starters, there's the Aztek, which seems to be strategically misspelled so as to prevent the descendants of this once-great empire from coalescing into a mighty guerrilla force and burning down the manufacturing plant. I bet this gas-guzzling monstrosity isn't quite what they had in mind back in Tenochtitlan. As a bonus, the Aztek looks like a Honda CRV that has been hooked up to a helium pump for too long. Then there's the fearsome Rubicon, which is a new and alarming flavor of SUV. The name is promising—it's both a historical and mythological allusion—but the problem is that the Rubicon was actually a river (dividing Gaul from Italy). The idiom being referenced is "crossing the Rubicon," which is what Julius Caesar did when he decided to invade Italy. See the conflict? The actual Rubicon is something that needs to be crossed, rather than something that does the actual crossing. It's confusing, but the manufacturers don't care about that. They're already working on their next fuel-inefficient masterpiece.

Always the deep thinker, I have devised a solution to this nomenclature conundrum. I'd like to propose that the automakers consider naming their cars after writers and philosophers. Such a change can only bolster the reputations of these companies, giving a boost to economic growth in general. I respectfully submit a list of suggestions for future lines of vehicles. If you are an automaker, please know that you are free to use any and all of these ideas when your next high-pressure ad meeting rolls around. I won't sue you or anything. I simply would like to see (for once!) a car with a dignified, meaningful, even evocative name. And for good measure, I'll even include a tag line to help with the preliminary marketing.

1. the Ford Flaubert—for all your most important affairs
2. the VW Voltaire—when you must think on your wheels
3. the Kia Kafka—perfectly healthy for cockroaches and other living things
4. the Chevy Chekhov—you'll sell your cherry orchard for it
5. the Saab Solzhenitsyn—even Stalin couldn't object!
6. the Daewoo Derrida—constructed by Germans, deconstructed by you
7. the Volvo Virginia (Woolf)—a car of one's own
8. the Honda Hugo—so you can flee the scene and not be forced to serve a bum 20-year rap for pocketing some bread that was probably stale anyway
9. the Mini Milton—to help you navigate Heaven and Hell
10. the Oldsmobile Orwell—gas is freedom, freedom is gas
11. the Toyota Tolstoy—in times of war and peace. Extra caution suggested at railroad junctions.

Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you.

Tags: popculture