By on March 17, 2017

the triumphant one

On Monday, we issued a challenge to the B&B to submit their best efforts in the first-ever Car Name Game Challenge. There were 26 submissions, all of which went in front of our judges for review. So now it’s time to announce your top five winners, in ascending order. Let’s take a look, shall we?

Our selections today were chosen by the TTAC staff members, and graded on the four metrics we established on Monday: creativity, coherence, wit/humor, and reactions from the other B&B. Six TTAC staff members responded and ranked your contributions:

Tim Cain

Chris Tonn

Matthew Guy

Tyler Wooley

Mark Stevenson

Matt Posky

All ranked their top five, then points were assigned based on that rank. Five points for the number one pick, down to one point for the fifth pick.

Fifth Place: Lou_BC, 6 points

I was lying in the cool grass and fantasized of being an Explorer of our Galaxie. 500 stars later I lost my Focus. With Super Duty concentration I was able to Transit to the Edge of that starlit void. It was an amazing Fiesta of light created by nuclear Fusion.
I wish I could mount an Expedition aboard a Starliner. I’d fly past Mercury towards the Taurus Constellation at speeds exceeding that of a Thunderbolt. I felt like a Maverick, a wild Mustang chasing every Comet.
My girl Victoria, a Crown jewel, a Cougar of epic proportions changed the Tempo. Her eyes began to Probe mine. My mind returned to earth. Her gaze told me to expect something Custom Deluxe.

Fourth Place: Zykotek, 7 points

There was no Element of surprise, as it could be just a Charade or a Mirage, thought the Gremlin Dictator as he took another sip at his Corona and adjusted his Crown as a Tribute to the Breeze, watching a Royale Avalanche destroy Cortina and most of the Horizon, as he finished a game of Golf with the Parisienne Villager, that would serve as a Prelude to a game of Lacrosse with the Diplomat later, unless the Imperial Legend wanted to watch a Matador on a Mustang play Polo in Bel Air or just Escape to Monte Carlo (the one in Monaco) to have fun with a Premier Escort or a Rebel Celebrity.

Third Place: 210delray, 10 points

An Intrepid Marauder emerged from his Enclave, brandishing a Cutlass and raising a LeSabre, to the Acclaim of his Entourage. He summoned his Sidekick, a Wildcat, and started a Rampage against Seville, Granada, Monte Carlo, Monza, and Corsica. Then on the Equinox, he captured a Breeze to Traverse the C(Class), landing in Acadia and on to Concord, Cambridge, Newport, and New York(er). A Highlander by Tradesman, he Crosstrek(ed) the Land (Rover) on his Mustang, and Rainier’d down with Thunder(bird) on the Terrain of Tacoma, Bonneville, Santa Fe, Sedona, Durango, Veracruz, Monterey, and Tucson. Then on a Cruze over the Sierra, he started an Avalanche on his Quest for Eldorado, descending onto the Outback of Catalina; it was all quite Sport(age) for him!

Runner-up: Caboose, 12 points

Film Noir.


It was raining that night. The kind of rain that washed the trash out of the gutter and onto my doorstep. She was wearing a red dress. I looked up at the SKY; it was going to be one of those nights. It was coming down hard. Even the rats were building FORDS out of bits of garbage to keep the TORRENT out of their warrens.

“We’re closed.” I tried to shoo her away. She looked like she had come from a FIESTA; I wasn’t in the mood. Plus, I had an AVALANCHE of paperwork on my desk.

“You’re not closed for me, MACK! I need to hire you.” She could’ve been on the cover of a trashy romance novel, like Fabio, but less feminine. FABIA.

“You don’t look like the kind who has enough dough to hire a P.I., Lady.” I threw my cigarette past her onto the street; the wet doused the CHERRY before it hit the ground. Her face changed.

“It’s true; all I have left is this LINCOLN. But I need your help.” She bent over fuss at her up non-existent hose. She gave me a good look. This one was a MAVERICK. Ten years ago those TATAs might’ve changed my mind, but I was too old and she was too tired. Whatever she was then, this wasn’t going to be her ENCORE.

But what could I do? She had the kind of smoke in her voice that only comes from staying too close to the bottle or too far from TOLEDO. No, Spain. And the rain was getting worse; it sounded like a hundred PINTOs running across the roof of my office. I almost wished they had. I could’ve used the insurance money.

“C’mon in. Take off your heels; I don’t want you to wreck the PARISIENNE rug.” It was a cruel joke. The maid hadn’t been to the office in a year. The rug was so threadbare it should’ve earned a CITATION for calling itself a rug. Just about every horizontal surface was covered by PANDA Express containers.

“So what’s your story, Sister?”, trying to sound tougher than I felt.
“Gimme a break, Mack, I just got in out of the rain… Hey, my phone’s almost dead; you got a CHARGER?” I fished one out from a desk drawer and slid it across the desk, half hoping it wouldn’t fit her once-fancy SMART phone.
“Alright, you’re warm and the E-TRONs are flowing. So spill it.” She took her time lighting a cigarette and sending the first hot drag across the desk like a little SCIROCCO.
“I want you to investigate a kidnapping”, she said flatly.
“Go to the cops. They have a CIVIC duty to investigate that sort of thing. Besides, that lonely Lincoln’s not gonna buy you a murder investigation, Sweetheart. $330IS what it costs me to put film in my camera. You’re gonna have to get richer or more interesting real quick.”
“Alright, Mr. Private Dick. I want you to investigate the kidnapping of Sam SPARROW.”


Sam was a HARDBODY, but he had a soft heart for stray cats. Must’ve been how he found this COUGAR. Sam had it tough growing up; his old man had died when Sam was a kid, serving on a Navy CORVETTE off the coast of Korea. Sam always said that his dad’s boat zigged when it should’ve zagged. Luck didn’t run in Sam’s family, I guess.

It hit me like a HAMMER. This was no coincidence. I had known Sam for years. The whole thing smelled rotten. I pulled one of my several poorly-maintained revolvers out of my jacket and pointed the business end at her. Let’s get down to business…

“Alright. Name.” She tried to arch one eyebrow like Lauren Bacall used to do in the movies; just ended up letting one side of her face sag.
“That ESCALADEd quickly”, she whispered hoarsely, trying to sound tougher than she felt.
“Your name. Now!” She sounded CONTINENTAL, not that it would make a bit of difference.
“MERCEDES. My name is Mercedes.” Of course it was. Sam used to talk about the best girl ever. The one he found in Portugal on his way back from backpacking across Europe back in school. That was twenty years ago. And fifteen years ago, he stopped talking about her. Settled down into a good job, married a girl named Sally.

But Sally left him when he lost everything funding a two-bit team of treasure-hunters who swore they had the rights to an old Spanish shipwreck off the coast of BAJA. Sam was never the same after that. And then, three years ago, Sam disappeared. Maybe he went back to Portugal for some WILDCAT hunting. However it happened, here she was.

“So you want me to find out who kidnapped your old flame, is that it?”
She reached… “Slowly, if you please” …into her purse – Corinthian leather. Faded, sure, but the real deal. She pushed a picture across the desk at me.
I picked it up and found myself staring at Sam’s GHOST.
“This picture is pretty old, Mercedes. Not a lot to go on.”
“Mr. Private Dick, that is the person I need you to find. My son, Samuel Sparrow, Jr.”
For the second time in fifteen minutes, I could feel my age weighing down on me, battering me like a SYCLONE. It took me to the slow count of twenty before I was able to TRAVERSE my way back to the present moment.
“I…I dunno if I can.”
“The sign on your door said ‘RELIANT Enterprises, Private Investigators’. Can I rely on you or not?”
I put my gun down and picked my bottle up. I found two old glasses and wiped them out with a shirt that was draped over the filing cabinet. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this woman was a poison DART pointed at the back of my neck. I didn’t know where this was going but I had a feeling that, before it was all over, I’d be facing either THE JUDGE or the BULLITT.


There was quite a points jump between the runner-up and our winner of our inaugural Car Name Game contest.

Winner: RickD75, 20 points

My Amigo and I went out one evening, forming an Alliance to see who could end up with the Conquest of getting their Jimmy handled by a Scamp. The year was Ninety-Eight, and we got off to a Rocky start. My Sidekick and I finally ran into a Cougar who told us she would be glad to provide a Hummer to me but had another Rendezvous in an hour. My partner was Swift to move along trying to be his own Trailblazer. In the Spirit of her rush, I was quick to Express my Luv like a Rabbit. I started to get a strange Vibe, and glancing down I saw her Silhouette making the Discovery that she was in fact a he. With a Dash I made my Escape, and thankfully never saw that Brougham again!

So congratulations RickD75, your submission handily trumped the other submissions from the B&B. Bask in the glory of an honest win, which will surely be with you in Spirit for years to come.

1991 Dodge Spirit R/T (AA), Image Source:

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