Read part one here.
‘Huh, made in Yorkshire, was it?’ A tedious bore will ask you for the 934,000th time when they see that you drive a Volkswagen e-Up!, a goal left even more open by VW’s irritatingly jaunty insistence on sticking an exclamation mark on the end of the name. And it’s at that point that you might consider slamming your fingers in the e-Up!’s door, just to feel something. Anything.
Smart has always had some lightly irritating model names, what with the Fortwo and the Forfour, but they took a whole new level in annoyingness when the brand became part of a Mercedes-Geely joint venture and started building bigger, posher EVs. Every time we remember that we’re actually supposed to pronounce the hashtag in its latest models’ names as ‘hashtag,’ it chips away at our spirit just that little bit more.
Look, ‘probe’ has several meanings. It could just be a thorough investigation or a type of uncrewed spacecraft. But let’s be real—there’s only one thing that comes to mind when somebody mentions a probe, and it’s probably happening to a part of your body you’d really rather it wasn’t.
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We totally get wanting to give a car an imposing, powerful name, and US manufacturer Studebaker had a nice little niche with models like the Commander and President. But really? Dictator? That’s not a word that’s ever had positive connotations attached to it—especially not in the ’30s, when the Dictator was on sale. In a moment of sensibleness, Studebaker chose to call it the Director in non-US markets instead.
We could probably stick any of BYD’s sea life-themed cars on here, but at least seals, dolphins, and sea lions are cute. Anyone that’s been remotely near the British seaside has a more complicated relationship with seagulls, which is why BYD decided to call this little electric hatch the Dolphin Surf for the European market instead. Still a strange name, but at least it doesn’t conjure up images of having your chips stolen or your T-shirt covered in something brown, white, and unspeakable.
In all fairness to Dodge, the Swinger sport package for the Dart first appeared in 1968, a few years before the type of swinger you’re thinking of really hit the mainstream as a concept. It was definitely already a thing, though, and to be fair, this was the free-spirited late ’60s—it’s entirely possible Dodge knew exactly what it was doing. Anyway, here’s the joke you were waiting for about the Dart Swinger’s keys spending most of their time in a bowl.
We don’t know what was going on at Dodge in 1968, but that was also the year that the Scat Pack first appeared as a high-performance option for the Charger and the Coronet. Supposedly, it comes from the old-timey use of ‘scat,’ meaning ‘go away’—a reference to the Scat Packs’ prodigious performance. Realistically, however, scat is only ever going to have one of two meanings in a modern context, and if you’re thinking of the form of improvised jazz singing, then congratulations on being more mature than us.
We’ll stop making fun of Dodge soon, we promise. And yes, we know the word ‘caravan’ has its roots in the epic journeys once taken along the Silk Road, and what’s called ‘caravans’ in Britain isn’t really a thing in America. Still, we can’t help but laugh at a car named after the boxes of fiberglass misery that ruin Britain’s roads every summer so their owners can spend a weekend emptying their own waste out of a chemical toilet.
Naked actually makes quite a lot of sense as a name for this boxy kei car, which wears its utilitarian styling on its sleeve with features like exposed door hinges and visible rivets. Unfortunately for Daihatsu, there will always be a certain demographic who, no matter how old they are, will find the word ‘naked’ funny. It’s us. We’re the demographic.
We’re so used to praising the Dacia Duster for its value and its rugged likeability that we often forget that it appears to be named after a cleaning implement. It’s presumably supposed to make us think of a trail of dust left behind the car as it bounds along a gravel road, but let’s be honest—as much as we love the Duster, it’s a rubbish name.
Good effort, Renault. We know the convertible Renault Wind’s name is supposed to make us think of sunny days, the open road, the roof down, the breeze in our hair. But it doesn’t, because once again, our sense of humor stopped developing in high school. Therefore, the only wind it makes us think of is the one you experience the morning after a particularly punchy curry.
This is a classic case of ‘nice idea, flawed execution’—yes, a gremlin is an imaginary cheeky, mischievous, impish being, and the AMC Gremlin was supposed to embody those characteristics. But do you really want to name a car after a creature invented to explain technical and mechanical malfunctions? No. No, you do not.
While there’s nothing fundamentally wrong with the idea of naming a cute and cuddly car after a cute and cuddly creature, there’s something about the name of the Reliant Kitten that grates. Maybe it’s just the fact that an actual kitten is so helplessly adorable that we can’t begin to take the car seriously. Then again, the Kitten was just a four-wheeled version of the Robin, so Reliant had form here…
Innocent intentions here from MG—the Midget, after all, was the smallest sports car the company made, and we’re sure that when it launched in 1961, nary an eyebrow was raised at the name chosen for it. If you tried to call a car the Midget in 2026, we’re not sure the same would be true. Or would it? Daihatsu has also used the name on small trucks, including on a concept unveiled as recently as last year. Hmm.
Admittedly, the closely related Nissan Cedric and Gloria appeared in the ’60s and the ’50s, respectively, back when the names Cedric and Gloria probably didn’t put you in mind of the nice old couple who used to live next door to you when you were growing up. But, with the greatest of respect to any Cedrics or Glorias reading this, have they ever been cool names?
Jimmy? Like, short for James? The GMC James? Supposedly, this badge-engineered Chevy Blazer actually got its name from the way ‘GM’ sounds when spoken out loud. Except…GM. ‘Gee em.’ ‘Geem.’ Nope. Not hearing it. Get back to us when you’ve come out with the GMC Danny, Dave, and Gazza, please.
A stroke of self-deprecating marketing genius of the sort only Volkswagen was once capable of, or the laziest automotive naming decision ever? We’re honestly not sure. This Beetle-based utility vehicle was only ever officially known as the Thing in the US. Elsewhere, it was the Trekker, which was less distinctive, but probably made it an easier sell to, well, anyone.
Allegedly, the name of the Celerio derives from the Latin word ‘celer,’ meaning ‘fast’—same origin as ‘accelerate,’ you see. Just two problems: One, the Celerio was the diametric opposite of fast, and two, said out loud, it’s essentially a bland, watery, vegetable with an extra vowel sound on the end. Then again, bland and watery is quite an apt description of the Celerio.
Beloved by the van-life crowd, there’s rather a lot to unpack with the name of the Mazda Bongo Friendee. Bongo, we’re on top of—it’s a type of drum. Strange thing to name a van after, but hey. But Friendee? One who is friended, in the same way that an employee is employed? That’s as good as we’ve got for that one, we’re afraid.
NOTE: This article first appeared on TopGear.com. Minor edits have been made.
