by Marlin Bressi

Created on: May 30, 2009

More than just a machine made of metal, plastic, rubber, and glass, an automobile is a trusted and reliable friend. A loyal friend who (hopefully) never leaves you stranded. A proud warrior who braves the rain and sleet and snow in order to deliver you to your chosen destination safely and in comfort. While other friends may come and go, an automobile stands by you in the best of times and the worst of times; a staunch ally who is always on call, waiting for the opportunity to provide you with faithful service.

Surely, such a friend deserves a name. And not the silly kind of name bestowed upon a prize poodle at the Westminster Dog Show or a thoroughbred vying for the Triple Crown. A car deserves a name befitting the character of the car itself. Whether you drive an exotic foreign beauty named Lola or Fiona, or a beat-up workhorse you call Bess or Betty, a good car requires a good name.

While some may argue that naming a car is superstitious nonsense, I would like to submit proof that a named car will outlast and outperform a nameless automobile. I have owned five cars in my life, two of which I have named. Is it mere coincidence that the two cars with names have lasted a combined 625,000 miles while the unnamed cars sputtered and died before reaching 100,000 miles?

Let me tell you about a very special lady. Her name is Fiona. A 1998 Pontiac Firebird, Fiona is the very image of beauty and the very definition of loyalty. She may be a fast woman, but she is as faithful as the day is long. She came into my life as a well-kept mistress with under 20,000 miles. Ten years later, she still stands by my side, with an odometer reading in excess of 250,000 miles. That is a staggering 20,000 miles farther than the moon is to the Earth. That is roughly ten times the circumference of the Earth!

What is Fiona's secret to longevity? Regular oil changes and scheduled maintenance? Ha! She goes about 10,000 miles between oil changes, and the last time I had to replace her brakes was during the Clinton administration. An easy life? Hardly. As an avid outdoorsman, I've taken Fiona on roads where even ATV's dare not go. Last month, she ran into a 200-pound black bear at 45 miles per hour. The following week, she plowed into a whitetail deer. Yet she still runs strong, despite a crumpled right fender and busted headlight.

The secret to Fiona's longevity is the fact that she is treated not as some material object, but as a living and breathing being with

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