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Author Topic: Does everyone name their Fat Lady?  (Read 19563 times)
hotglue #43
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Ya never know how many good Summers ya have left.


« Reply #80 on: December 06, 2010, 08:37:22 PM »

Quess I'm not very creative..... every bike I have had has been:

Da Bike

Quess I'll go wash  "da bike"
Time ta chnge the oil in  "da bike"
Hey!!!! let's hop on "da bike"
think I might need some safety chrome for  "da bike"

BTW????? what is the plural of  "da bike"????
'da bikes'???? seems too simple

and when ya have ta wash 'em.....  I guess I'll call them : 'boff 'em".......that won't work....
  with FB's trike there are 3 now.........Akkkkkk
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 blue=3 times
 green=at least 4 times
When they are all 'green'.. I'll stop counting.
Dogg
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Berlin Md


« Reply #81 on: December 07, 2010, 05:15:48 AM »

and when ya have ta wash 'em.....  I guess I'll call them : 'boff 'em".......that won't work....
  with FB's trike there are 3 now.........Akkkkkk

the term you are looking for is "all a dem" .
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Bama Red
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Fayetteville, Tennessee


« Reply #82 on: December 07, 2010, 05:52:46 AM »

Been kinda hesitant to post to this thread, cause I didn't want to seem goofy (leastwise, no goofier than I already am). My Valk literally called to me as I was driving down the road to see her and have a test ride. I could see her from 4-5 houses away and I absolutely knew I was gonna take her home - no doubt in my mind - even before I rode her or even got a good close-up look at her.

She tells me her name is "Esmerelda". Hey - I just pass it on - she doesn't even look Hispanic!!

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Big IV
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Iron Station, NC 28080


« Reply #83 on: December 07, 2010, 06:31:12 AM »

Perhaps it is because I use gendered nouns pronouns for machinery such as motorcycles and cars that I generally name my vehicles. My CB 750 Honda was named Peggy which was short for Pegasus.  My XS1100 Yamaha was named Thunder because it was loud as all get out.

My Valk has no name. I'll call it Val occasionally but it really doesn't have a dedicated name. Odd that. Oh well.
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"Ride Free Citizen!"
VRCCDS0176
Chiefy
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Sarasota, Florida


« Reply #84 on: December 07, 2010, 10:55:41 AM »

Been kinda hesitant to post to this thread, cause I didn't want to seem goofy (leastwise, no goofier than I already am). My Valk literally called to me as I was driving down the road to see her and have a test ride. I could see her from 4-5 houses away and I absolutely knew I was gonna take her home - no doubt in my mind - even before I rode her or even got a good close-up look at her.

She tells me her name is "Esmerelda". Hey - I just pass it on - she doesn't even look Hispanic!!


That's because Esmeralda is a French Gypsy girl.  She is amazingly beautiful, and cannot be ignored when she dances in the street.  Oh, and she has a goat that can count too.
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1998 Valk Standard 52,500 miles
Cajunbone
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Simpsonville, SC


« Reply #85 on: December 07, 2010, 11:08:59 AM »

Sure do here...mine is "Bon Temps" since I am a Cajun seemd kind of a natural thing.  99 Green & Silver Interstate.
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Bama Red
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Fayetteville, Tennessee


« Reply #86 on: December 07, 2010, 01:11:15 PM »

Thanks, Chiefy!

That 'splains a lot Grin! French Gypsy, huh? Well, I'll be!!
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Willow
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« Reply #87 on: December 07, 2010, 01:46:01 PM »

I have had the pleasure of attaching identities to four Valkyries.

Blue Velvet is my first Valkyrie and is still with me at 157,000 miles.



Sunrise belongs to my wife and riding partner.



The Jade Phoenix Dragon served me well for a year.  Her life ended in August of 2008.



Emerald Emily came to me in the Spring of this year.  We shared three thousand miles before we arrived at home.



You may have caught on that the names tend to reflect the colors of the bikes.  I understand some women tend to buy vehicles based solely upon that factor.  My tendency in bike names must be my feminine side coming out.   Wink

In answer to the question that began this thread, some do and some don't.  I do.  Here's a short (lol!) explanation of why I name my bikes.


Somewhere in my youth I determined that riding a motorcycle would be cool.  Most specifically, I believed that riding would make me cool.  I purchased for the astonishing price of one hundred seventy-five dollars a Honda 150 Dream.  I know that is not its marketing name, but we were not necessarily tied to Honda’s marketing labels.

In those days a motorcycle endorsement was not required for one who already held a standard driver’s license.  I received a few quick instructions on the location and functions of the shift and clutch levers, and I rode away, with some small level of apprehension, on my own motorcycle.

Riding that beast did not thrust me suddenly into the realm of the cool.  I did seem to acquire friends and acquaintances that previously had not been part of my sphere of influence and in no time at all I began to accumulate a list of persons, mostly of the more interesting gender, who were desirous of sharing with me space and time aboard my two wheeled pleasure craft.  I found that I spent less time “hanging out” or experiencing the boredom of sedentary indecision but rather finding opportunities to be alone on the road, to find places that I had not been, to return again to places that I already knew.

Although I did not attain instant coolness, I did begin to experience the symptoms of a decreasingly less subtle transformation of sorts.  I discovered that I was becoming obsessively fond of the feel of the wind in my face; the sway of the bike as she rolled into a turn; the exhilaration that accompanied a twist of the throttle; and now and again, the adrenaline rush of a moment of flight and the successful return to earth.  Very early in our time together the machine and I became a single moving unit.  It is a transformation that seems to always take place with motorcycle riders but never to occur with automobile drivers.  It is almost mystical, perhaps imperceptible, when the line is crossed, but in retrospect it is unmistakably there.

I named her the Beast.  I invested myself in the cleaning, maintenance, repair, and refining of the Beast.  I rode her to school; I rode her to work; I rode her whenever there was a place to go; and I rode her when there was no particular destination to be achieved.  The first time we separated violently in a ditch upon impacting a culvert, I rolled over, pushed myself to my knees, and rushed, in a sense, over to see what damage I had done to my black Beast.

She became a part of who I was.  I began to think of myself as a rider and to see the rest of the world in terms of those who are and those who are not.  I had discovered that the relationship between the motorcycle and me had moved beyond tool and user, past ownership, to more than a means to an end.  I had found passion.

The last day that we rode together we had found our way to a rural asphalt some seven miles from home.  We were on a long straight, slightly descending, stretch of that road and rapidly approaching a slower moving vehicle.  I opened the throttle as wide as it would turn and held my body so close to the fuel tank that we seemed to melt together.  I watched the speedometer climb past seventy-five and on to eighty miles per hour, something I had never seen her do before.  Suddenly I heard a loud pop and the rear wheel locked up.  Panicked, I grabbed the clutch and we coasted to a stop.

I managed to shift the transmission into neutral and pushed the bike a mile to the next nearest town and called home for assistance.  My older sister arrived after some time prepared to carry me home.  I surveyed her compact car and commented,  “I don’t think it will fit in the trunk, but if we remove the back seat I think we can get it in there.”

She immediately responded with, “You’re not putting that motorcycle in my car.  We’ll have to leave it here until Daddy can come get it with the truck.”

“I’m not leaving my bike here.”

“Fine.”

I watched her drive away and then we resumed our journey, pushing on the flat and uphill; coasting when the road sloped down.

She didn’t recover from the blown piston.  She was eventually replaced by a new Honda 305 Superhawk that was, interestingly, also named “The Beast”.  There have been several motorcycles since then.  All have been named.  They have all been objects of passion.

Why do we name our bikes?  I’m not entirely certain that I can answer that for everyone, maybe not even for myself.  Perhaps it is because they are extensions of who we are; perhaps because they are objects of passion.  Those who truly understand will not be able to grasp the question.  Those who do not understand, perhaps never will.  I, for one, have always named my motorcycles and I believe I always will. 

I have never named a refrigerator.  It is my sincere belief that I never will.                     
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fstsix
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« Reply #88 on: December 07, 2010, 02:02:17 PM »

"Rosie" All of Her Fat... Loud... Obnoxious... attitude....and Men are afraid of her, so they ride HD's instead, The name just fits? what can i say!!!   
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bigguy
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« Reply #89 on: December 07, 2010, 03:02:28 PM »

Always desperate for a topic. Thanks for the help.

Link to blog, "What's in a name."

Link to blog, "What's in a name."
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Here there be Dragons.
RonW
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Newport Beach


« Reply #90 on: December 07, 2010, 03:39:15 PM »


That 'splains a lot Grin! French Gypsy, huh? Well, I'll be!!

she was the heroine in Hunchback of Notre Dame.
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2000 Valkyrie Tourer
elraque
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1999 Standard VRCC#31880!

Rock Springs, WY


« Reply #91 on: December 07, 2010, 05:18:11 PM »


That 'splains a lot Grin! French Gypsy, huh? Well, I'll be!!

she was the heroine in Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Esmerelda/Esmeralda is the Spanish word for "Emerald." She certainly looks like a jewel.
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Wyoming native
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sheets
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Jct Rte 299 & 96, Calif.


« Reply #92 on: December 07, 2010, 06:27:23 PM »

Sexy Sadie is her name -- ... 'she broke all the rules and is the perfect one' (Beatles). Like generations of mariners naming their vessels as a woman. Cuz we know they command respect, and shall be treated well... in return, to ensure they will safely return us home at the end of each voyage. Yrmv, 
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Chiefy
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Sarasota, Florida


« Reply #93 on: December 07, 2010, 06:29:29 PM »

Thanks, Chiefy!

That 'splains a lot Grin! French Gypsy, huh? Well, I'll be!!

Well, since she's beautiful,  Shocked  and can't be ignored when dancing in the street,  Evil  it's a good choice on your part.  Someone else said Esmeralda IS a Spanish word, which I didn't know.  I was just thinking of the Gypsy that so enthralled Quasimodo (and everyone else) in the book "The Hunchback" (of Notre Dame) one of my favorites!

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1998 Valk Standard 52,500 miles
mirion
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1997 Std - 2000 IS

Frankenmuth, Michigan


« Reply #94 on: December 07, 2010, 07:16:07 PM »

I refer to them as Beauty and the Beast

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BuzzKill
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Lake Dallas, Tx


« Reply #95 on: December 07, 2010, 08:10:37 PM »

Emerald, as in an Emerald Dragon.

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Dogg
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Berlin Md


« Reply #96 on: December 07, 2010, 08:19:42 PM »

"Rosie" All of Her Fat... Loud... Obnoxious... attitude....and Men are afraid of her, so they ride HD's instead, The name just fits? what can i say!!!   


just love this bike...
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Valkahuna
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DeLand, Florida


« Reply #97 on: December 07, 2010, 09:38:13 PM »

My wife is "Babe", even after 41 years. cooldude That's all that matters!

The bikes are just:

2001 IS : The Valk
1999 H-D: The Harley
1977 BMW: The Beemer

Maybe not imaginative, but none of the three care.

I don't name my food either! Or my lawn mower, etc.  Cheesy


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The key thing is to wake up breathing! All the rest can be fixed. (Except Stupid - You can't fix that)

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fstsix
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« Reply #98 on: December 08, 2010, 09:50:37 AM »

"Rosie" All of Her Fat... Loud... Obnoxious... attitude....and Men are afraid of her, so they ride HD's instead, The name just fits? what can i say!!!   


just love this bike...
Thanks Dogg! coming from the Man with the baddest custom Valk around, I do appreciate that!  lots of awesome bikes on this thread  cooldude
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bigguy
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« Reply #99 on: December 08, 2010, 11:44:31 AM »

I have never named a refrigerator.  It is my sincere belief that I never will.                     
  Grin
Thanks for the writeup. I enjoyed it.
Bikes and boats are the only things I name. Not my cars, not my computers, the other two things I spend time with. I never really thought that much about it. Now that I am, it's hard to articulate somethings that just seemed self evident until a few days ago.
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Here there be Dragons.
fudgie
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« Reply #100 on: December 09, 2010, 05:07:01 AM »

Cowboy horses had names. Seems fitting here.
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SANDMAN5
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Mileage 65875

East TN


« Reply #101 on: December 09, 2010, 09:28:53 AM »

"Amazing Grace" We just call her Grace for short. First Valk, black '03,
was named "Black Beauty" (although I secretly referred to her as
"Black Betty")
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Sludge
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Toilet Attendant

Roaring River, NC


« Reply #102 on: December 11, 2010, 10:15:54 AM »

"Typhon"  (sometimes described as a black dragon... ) is the most deadly monster of Greek mythology.  Even the gods couldnt kill him. 

Typhon was known as the Father of all monsters; his wife Echidna was likewise the Mother of all monsters.

Typhon was defeated by Zeus, who trapped him underneath Mount Etna.

I thought that a fitting name for a Supercharged black Valk.




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"We have two companies of Marines running rampant all over the northern half of this island, and three Army regiments pinned down in the southwestern corner, doing nothing. What the hell is going on?"
Gen. John W. Vessey, USA, Chairman of the the Joint Chiefs of Staff during the assault on Granada
Dragonryder2
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« Reply #103 on: December 11, 2010, 11:45:55 AM »

I named mine "Stealth" 'cause I'm a lady rider and the HD guys don't expect me to sneak up on them and out distance them.  I love passing HD riders and waving hello.

Hope you are all having a great weekend.
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ILcruiser
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Crystal Lake, IL


« Reply #104 on: December 11, 2010, 11:54:35 AM »

"Why don't we call it 'Her Majesty?'" my girlfriend said, her voice dripping with jealousy  Smiley
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1999 Valkyrie Standard
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