Like many people I have a history of naming my pets, boats, and the only motor home I ever owned. And here I am. Once more into the baby-naming abyss. It is crazymaking Join me. Here’s how far I am.
Elsewhere Again. Elsewhere was the name of my only other motor home. A 26’ GMC ’76 purchased in 1983, a faithful travlin’ wagon that was home to a ramblin’ roam of the country for six months. If you say it fast, it comes out AL’s Where Again? The name, Elsewhere, was inspired by a night-time soap opera I liked in the early 80s, St. Elsewhere. Elsewhere, the motorhome, recalls a whole anthology of anecdotes that stand alone. But this trip is different and not a reprise of an event from history. And so I am not inclined to piggyback on an ancient name.
Different Drummer is the name of a sea-going RV I had in Puerto Rico ten years early. A 36’ Pearson sailing yacht I had in 1973. She captured a closetful of silver trophies, carried us around the Caribbean for dozens of weeks in 1973-75, and bore us to Florida in mid-1975 as we transitioned to our next life. It is from one of Thoreau’s most oft repeated lines.
“If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.” No one ever gave me permission to be the odd person I am any better than Thoreau. Also, I quite liked the alternate definition of a drummer as a traveling salesman
Foolish. In the 60s sometime I bought a lovely little 29’ sailboat. The original owner had imported this red-hulled beauty from Holland. Two weeks after it was launched he sailed onto the pointy end of a sharp rock spike near the west end of St. Thomas. The boat sank like a broken heart. The insurance company gave him a check for 90% of the value and he kept the punctured hull, rig, sails, and cabinetry that didn’t float away. The boat was lifted out of the water and barge transported to Puerto Rico and set on the hard in a boat yard. A year later the engine was a ball of rust the wiring was trash, and there was a film of oily salt on everything. You’d have to be meshugana to take on a project like that. So I named it Foolish. I am quite sure many of my friends–-maybe the majority–who think this motor home adventure is crazy. This is one time that I am with the majority.
I only have a couple of new ideas.
Swag. “AL’s got sway.” Someone recently said of me. I am hoping it is street jargon for a certain attitude. I like double entendres and swag is also pirate’s booty as well as an acronym for Scientific Wild Ass Guess.
Dude – or maybe Dood.
Blunderbus. I must have been inhaling some second hand wacky tobaccy when this one came to me. Good for a laugh but not a keeper.
And early entries from friends:
Empress. Empress Elsewhere. A nice suggestion from Barbara Ruffner
Way Cool. A great name suggested by Linda Brown.
Post your idea below.
My count down puts me on the road about September 21. It would be a comfort to have a name that stuck by then.