The other day, when a character on TV mentioned his DeSoto, my daughter asked, “What’s a DeSoto?” “A car,” I answered, choking on my realization that there was no reason for a 23-year-old to have heard of a DeSoto.
But I have actually ridden in a DeSoto — and not in an antique car parade. The one I rode in was just days out of the showroom, and the last DeSoto was made in 1961.
I guess we know who the antique is.
The makes and models of automobiles that we see on the road every day don’t typically strike a chord of nostalgia, but the mention of a car that no longer rolls off the assembly line is another thing altogether.
Of all the words that would fill a dictionary of automotive language, none have more allure than the lexicon of car names. And none can better capture a personal memory or bring an era more quickly into focus than the names that have been retired.
As a newborn I was brought home in a Packard, the only make of car my father drove for some 30 years, until the brand had all but vanished from the landscape. Named for its founder, James Ward Packard, in 1899 and discontinued in 1958, the Packard is a permanent fixture in my life. On my dad’s factory-worker salary, a new car would never be in our garage, but those old Packards were hardly a deprivation.
To this day, I’ve never owned a piece of furniture as comfortable or as plushly upholstered as the back seat of a Packard. And roomy? As kids, we used to stand on the back-seat floor, grip onto the velvet hand strap on the back of the front seat and pretend we were water skiing. (Funny how flying down the highway with your children “skiing” in the back seat didn’t seem unsafe in the 1950s!)
When the Packard disappeared, I felt somehow protective of its memory, as if I owed it to the grand old thing to never forget it. Strange, but I think it’s left a trigger mechanism in me that goes off every time I hear the name of any make or model of car from the past. I figure it must have had a former “Packard-like” glory for someone, and I like that thought. As an observer of words, I also just like the names. Really, I’d love to go back in time to shake the hand of the person at Rolls-Royce who named the celebrated Silver Ghost. Last produced in 1926, this vehicle may have had the coolest car name of all time.
Whatever a car’s name, its ability to evoke the past is understood. When Archie and Edith Bunker sing, “Gee, our old LaSalle ran great,” the fact that the LaSalle was made by General Motors 1927–1940 and was named for the French explorer Sieur de la Salle may not be apparent, but the more important message that this was a reliable and beloved American car from an earlier generation is wistfully clear. When Radar O’Reilly mentions his family’s Nash, it doesn’t much matter if you know that Nash Motors was founded in 1917 by Charles W. Nash, but it matters a lot that “Nash” sounds just as simple and friendly as what you would expect from a car driven by the O’Reillys of Iowa in 1952.
From Jack Benny’s Maxwell to the Beach Boys’ T-Bird, and even to the Delorean in “Back to the Future,” automobiles continue to leave their stamp on the timelines of our lives long after their production days are over. Among those lined up to join the nostalgic legacy of car names is Pontiac, which after 2010 becomes officially defunct. The Pontiac brand has been such a standard in the language of American motoring since 1926, that one can only imagine the extent of its influence for generations to come.
Edmeston resident Christine A. Lindberg, senior U.S. lexicographer for Oxford University Press, is the principal content editor of Oxford’s American English dictionaries and thesauruses. Opinions expressed by Lindberg in this column are done so independently, and do not necessarily reflect the policies and practices of Oxford University Press. Have a question or comment relating to the English language? E-mail me: languagewithlindberg@gmail.com. Selected submissions will be answered here periodically.
Let's Look At The Language
Car names invoke powerful imagery
- Let's Look At The Language
-
-
'We'll take a cup o' kindness yet, for auld lang syne'
By Christine A. Lindberg A song that "owns" a particular day of the year is rare.
-
Here comes Santa Claus ... where'd he get that snazzy red suit?
Years ago, I had a book of letters written to Santa Claus, and I remember that, among all the messages of "bring me this," "bring me that," and "I'll leave you a plate of cookies," one little boy had written, "Dear Santa, Where did you get your snazzy red suit?" I wouldn't be surprised if the author of that question grew up to be either a reporter or a fashion consultant, but in any event, I hope he got an answer to his question.
-
Where do I plug in these Electric Prunes?
Those of us who make the family feasts of Thanksgiving and Christmas magically appear on the table know there's nothing magic about it.
-
The sometimes-cryptic language of company names
Cream cheese originated in 1872 as the result of William Lawrence's failure to duplicate the French cheese Neufchatel. By 1880, he knew his "accidental cheese" was good enough for distribution, so he packaged it in foil wrappers and called it Philadelphia Cream Cheese.
-
Humorist Will Rogers: One of the crown jewels in American language
Defined as "a humorous writer, performer or artist," a humorist could technically be anyone who makes you laugh, but my concept of a humorist is not nearly so broad
-
Not quite an 'Ode to Pepé Le Pew' after gross, stinky encounter
My previous column ended with the words "sweet dreams," which are nice if you can get 'em, but sometimes the occasion of slumber time is a few degrees short of sweet.
-
What will my dream-doctor say about this orgledream in my head?
I just read a snippet of folklore that tells me "a dream of grasshoppers means that something is confusing you."
-
Names of hurricanes don't match reality
When the storm named Irene barreled up into Edmeston four weeks ago, I didn't think I'd still be looking down upon the vestiges of her destruction from my upstairs windows.
-
Sometimes an unremarkable day is the one we should cherish the most
Ten years ago today, it was a summery Sept. 10 here in Central New York. The temperature hovered in the 80s and there was an occasional drizzle here and there.
-
'Don't miss it, don't even be late' The Great New York State Fair is here
"Our state fair is a great state fair! Don't miss it, don't even be late. It's dollars to doughnuts that our state fair is the best state fair in our state!"
-
Some of it's all Greek to me, but mostly it's just herbaceously aromatic
For the past five years, I've been a container gardener (having given up the backyard to my dogs).
-
Like gods on the heptagram, so are the days of our week
-
'Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?' just not the same
When the Baltimore Orioles' third baseman took the field on May 30, 1982, not even Nostradamus could have foreseen that one of the most celebrated streaks in baseball was beginning at that very moment. The player was Cal Ripken Jr., whose 2,131st consecutive game on Sept. 6, 1995, surpassed Lou Gehrig's "unsurpassable" record.
-
A frabjous Fourth of July to everyone!
If there's one date in history that every American can cite, it's the day that the Continental Congress gave its nod to the Declaration of Independence: July 4, 1776.
-
I wonder if ancient Romans ever put sanctions on that two-faced Janus
Someone recently asked me if I could explain the meaning of the word "sanction.
-
June is bustin' out all over!
When "Carousel," the second stage musical by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II, opened on Broadway on April 19, 1945, the audience left the theater in buoyant spirits.
-
Go ahead and have a rat on a stick, but please don't call it a lollipop
I recent read that this Tuesday is National Escargot Day. I was unable to find any compelling evidence that this is an official national day for any nation in particular, but it does seem that throughout the U.K. and North America, French restaurants have happily adopted the day as a time to celebrate their garlicky little mollusks.
-
Onomatopoeic power of wheatgrass souffle
“The formation of a word from a sound associated with what is named” is the New Oxford American Dictionary’s definition of “onomatopoeia” (Ah-Nuh-mah-tuh-PEE-uh).
-
The language of Benjamin Franklin, in whatever name he used
When Benjamin Franklin died 221 years ago this month, the entire Western world mourned, yet his gravestone reads (in full), “Benjamin and Deborah Franklin 1790.”
-
There's nothing like a good spoonerism to tickle a bunny phone
The English economist Sir Roy Forbes Harrod (1900"1978) once said that, compared to all the scholars he had known at Oxford and Cambridge, the Reverend William Archibald Spooner (1844"1930) was the most exceptional in "scholarship, devotion to duty, and wisdom." There is no reason to question Harrod's assessment, but that's not exactly the imprint by which Spooner is best remembered.
-
'We'll take a cup o' kindness yet, for auld lang syne'
