By on March 13, 2017

2017 Dodge Challenger GT, Image: FCA

Today we’re going to play a little game. It’s the sort of game where all are called and few are chosen. The winner (or winners) of this game will receive lavish virtual validation from the staff at TTAC and fellow members of the B&B. And isn’t validation the best prize of all?

The title of our challenge today is The Car Name Game.

From time to time, various posters of the B&B will make a small detour from the subject of an article to play The Car Name Game. It’s pretty easy to do: you just write a sentence or short paragraph containing a variety of car models, but used as regular words in the sentence. Here’s one I wrote from on our Housekeeping article the other day.

In a Prelude to Accord, we can stroll down Fifth Avenue, and greet the Silver Dawn of a new Morning without Imperial attitudes. A grand Discovery as we Aspire to a new understanding.

No brand or model is off-limits here, and everyone is free to submit their sentences or paragraphs for the next 72 hours (the cutoff is Thursday at 10:00 a.m. eastern). TTAC staff will gather and rate the results, then reveal the top five submissions on Friday, March 17th. Your submissions will be judged (in descending order of importance) on:

  • Creativity
  • Coherence
  • Level of wit/humor
  • Reactions from other B&B

So get to it. Focus your attention like a Mariner, in a Quest for a Tiburon to secure his Legacy.

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54 Comments on “TTAC Challenge: Let’s Play ‘The Car Name Game’...”

  • avatar

    The Cadillac Deadweight.

    Nah, seriously: Persephone

  • avatar

    The Fairlady went to Park Avenue, looking for a diner called the Bel Air.

  • avatar

    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!

  • avatar

    Boom! Do I win? Lol

  • avatar

    A Rogue Challenger from Montana was top Wrangler at this year’s Rodeo.

  • avatar

    I found Accord, but could not plug it in, as it was not a hybrid.
    I then looked at a 300 but it was so big, all I heard was an Echo.
    So I settled on a Tesla as it came with a Newport.. you couldn’t Prius apart.

    Don’t laugh, it was the Smart choice.

  • avatar

    My (dodge Dart) Swinger girlfriend wanted her (Pontiac) Parisienne (Ford) Probe my (Pontiac) Aztek. I said “I’m not your (Subaru) Brat (Ford) Escort you (Chevy) Cavalier (Studebaker) Dictator.”

    I got nuttin.

  • avatar

    The Scamp got another speeding ticket, an Encore Citation.

    Not going Rogue, it was paid as a Civic duty to no great Acclaim.

  • avatar

    We approached the Caravan with caution, not sure if it was truly a Grand Caravan or not. Finally, point of no return was upon us-do we Dodge, Ram, or Charg(er) it? In the end, we just let the Voyager(s) be.

  • avatar

    South of the border, El Presidente signed the peace Accord as a Prelude to lasting peace and a testament to Civic virtue. But alas, it was a Nova.

  • avatar

    Despite growing up the son of a Ranger in Montana, I never undertook Rodeo as a serious professional Pursuit, but my Lariat skills (using Accord to Wrangle(r) a Pony with the Swift-ness of an Olympic Sprinter) are nonetheless Legend-ary. Sadly, living in a Metro area on the Pacifica coast, none of my Hombres are terribly Imprezzed.

  • avatar

    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!

  • avatar

    I was on Patrol with my Sidekick, an Aztec Mountineer, when the Discovery of a Bronco
    startled us. Jimmy, I said , we need to Escape and and let a Wrangler handle this. With that,
    my Scout and I left.

  • avatar

    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.

  • avatar

    After staring at her TITANs all day and gazing upon her luscious RIDGELINE every time she walked past, I couldn’t help myself but to LACROSSE all evening, ENCORE after ENCORE. I knew there was a SPARK so I set upon my QUEST. The next day I finally had time alone with her and I expressed that I would like to EXPLORER intimately if we could only ESCAPE for an afternoon RONDEZVOUS. She agreed to my INSIGHT. Her SILHOUETTE was enough to INTRIGUE, finally I was HOLDEN those TITANs. The sight of my JAVELIN was IMPREZA and sent her into an ESCALADE of lust. When we finally began the ODYSSEY, the FUSION of my MAGNUM with her VOLVO was a true LEGEND. I continued to LANCER all afternoon and the HELLCAT took me on a JOURNEY I would not soon forget. She was like a BRONCO, a wild MUSTANG the entire afternoon and I did my best to CHALLENGER with every RAM, even OUTBACK before it was over. Finally, we were both sent to the STRATOS. It was the GENESIS of a beautiful relationship.

    (I haven’t actually verified, but the Lacrosse context helps. Was under impression that the name has a different meaning in French/Canadian which is why it couldn’t be sold in Canada under that name) So imagine this takes place in Montreal I guess)

  • avatar

    Great work, B&B. Bravada to all of you. This is a true Triumph and a victory of the Spirit of what TTAC stands for.

    It is a refreshing change of Pacer from the the personal attacks that had a viciousness worthy of a Barracuda. Perhaps we can Ford ahead from this point.

  • avatar
    GS 455

    Abraham Lincoln would be appalled with a Commander in chief of Celebrity apprentice fame, a corporate Marauder not a Diplomat, who’s administration is filled with Intrigue. A self-styled Maverick and Patriot who promises Eldorado gold for the American Suburban populace. This will probably cause a Tempest and I’ll be branded a Special snowflake and be caught in the Crossfire of Venom.

  • avatar

    I tried to connect the 3-series to the S-klasse, and all I got was the DTS.

  • avatar

    “You are such a New Yorker, being a Diplomat and living in the city.” she said. “You don’t know the half of it. I used to live in Monte Carlo where I was an Ambassador.” “Really?” she said in awe. “Oh yeah, we would go into the casinos late at night and hang out with dignitaries from around the globe. Some were from Riviera, Colorado.. Everywhere. We even had one from Tacoma, and two from the Dakotas. Eclectic bunch they were!” He explained. “Oh my.. who was the most interesting one you met?” she asked. “That would be Monsieur Fuego from France. He was responsible for the most beautiful coup seen in modern French history.” He said “That is so exciting! Tell me more!” she gushed. “Yes.. it was a Coupe D’Elegance.” “I love coups!” She exclaimed. “Indeed, the Monsieur was a Legend. A Trooper of sorts.”

  • avatar

    GZA (from Wu Tang) did this back in ’08 – look up the lyrics to “0% Finance”. Better yet, listen to track. Even if you don’t like hiphop, you gotta appreciate all the car references.

  • avatar

    On a very Impulse-ive day, I got a Spark in my mind to Golf. I drove my Jetta Sportwagen out to the course where I found a Fleetwood Brougham parked. The old, Civic minded man driving it said “son, I’ll give you Five Hundred if you can get a hole in one”. I blushed and said “sorry, I need to Escape and go see my Brat”

    There, I tried!

  • avatar

    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.

  • avatar

    Premier idea! I think I will Excel at this task, and Vanquish all Challengers. I have studied from the Master Aces of language, and they have accepted me as their Protege. Now, I can compose a bona fide Sonata of car names.

  • avatar

    320i + 330i + 340i = 2.0T + 2.0T +3.0T
    990i = 7.0T
    M2 = 3.0T
    M3 = 3.0T

    530i + 540i = 2.0T + 3.0T
    1070i = 5.0T

    640i = 3.0T
    650i = 4.4T
    1290i = 7.4T
    M6 = 4.4TT

    740i + 750i = 3.0T + 4.4T
    1490i = 7.4T
    M760ix = 6.6TT

    Z4 + 28i = 2.0T
    Z4 + 35i = 2.0T
    Z4 + 25is = 3.0T
    28i = 2.0T
    35i = 3.0T
    i3 = 0.0T
    i8 = 1.5T

    Please solve for i, s, M, T, and Z.

  • avatar

    The underwear wasn’t exactly jeep, so i went.


  • avatar

    It’s been close to Ninety-Eight years since that faithful Trek to Bonneville in our Pinnacle of Reliant transportation; the Allure of which was not lost on those whom could afford such a Regal journey. Diplomats say the golden age of automotive travel was lost due to the Cavalier attitude of a wasteful generation of Olds. Olds, for those not in the K, is the term used to describe our dying generation. I was a Sprite 18 year old with nothing but the clothes on my back and a Spark of passion to see the USA in my Chevrolet. The Metro remains the last Aspire to the bygone era, an Aztek ruin in a city now controlled by pneumo tubes and walkways that travel in a Grand Prix fashion. The piece D’Elegance replaced with a Caravan of walkers in the Shadow of the glass Yukon City.

    Perhaps one day I will Trans Sport back to that Canyon and with my last breath finally be at peace. Regency. My life was well spent in Spirit.

  • avatar

    No one has Eclipsed my Swift time on the Skyline route through its various Evolutions. No Challenger could take my Crown. But I became suspicious when I Corolla’d into the empty Suburban car park. Down at the Jetta, the Grand Nash had been Talon everyone about Cedric and his Hellcats bringing 440s tonight.

    But the Americans weren’t there. All I could hear were the chirping Beetles. “No Trueno,” I muttered to myself. I plugged my Cobra into its Charger and prepared to Levin the scene.

    Then I saw a Fairlady in the corner, sipping a Cappuccino. It was Giulietta from the last race, a Type-R just like me. I felt high like a C6–at least something tonight was worth it for this Alfa male! But before I could Focus, two cars Rammed me from the darkness.

    Bright flashing lights revealed the worst enemy of all, the 5-0. The Ladas dragged me out of my Ka and Beat me onto the ground, Seven to one. Once a proud 4Runner, I had no more HiAces up my sleeve.

    I looked for Giulietta, but she was Lagonda. I realised that I had truly been 86’d.

  • avatar

    A game worth creating an account for.

    I asked my NAVIGATOR for an ATLAS from The DIPLOMAT. It was almost her CIVIC duty.
    “You won’t survive out there. You’re not ready for the OUTBACK.” She might have had a point. I’d done my share of exploring- in my 20’s I EXCELled at finding FIESTAs in AZTEK lands, and farther South along the AMAZON- but for this journey I’d only spent a few days prepping between TUSCON and SEDONA.
    “Have you at least hired a guide?”
    “I’m about to- I’m still looking over resumes” I handed her the 2CVs- the only 2 that had been real CHALLENGERS.
    “These are garbage- OUTLANDERS. None of my COUNTRYMAN; at least, not a PATRIOT, would even lend a COMPASS to a COMMANDER with so little experience. Your ODYSSEY Is over before it even starts.”
    I stayed silent and stared out the window across the expansive plains, waiting for the words. I FOCUSed my VISION into the sky where circling FALCON’s briefly ECLIPSED the waning sun.
    “I’m going to go out there. Whether you help me or not- I’m going to do it. I know you’ve had bad experiences with IMPERIAL NEW YORKERs raping the landscape, but I promise I’m not here to do that.”
    I turned, and for the first time our eyes truly met. Her eyes seemed to burn past mine like a LASER; but the contempt was replaced with INTRIGUE.
    “You really think the sources of our sicknesses can come from a METEOR irradiating the aquifer?”
    “Of course- why do you think I’ve been so serious? What could make an EXPLORER flip like this, save a firestone?”
    She stayed quiet, and I followed suit. Though no words were spoken, I knew a fresh ALLIANCE was at its GENESIS.

  • avatar

    This topic is a real Challenger that many will try to Dodge if they can a Ford to. No doubt, someone will compose a Stanza that will clearly make them the Pacer for the competition, earning them a Citation.

    If Yugo down to the King Ranch, you’re not not likely to see many New Yorkers, but you will no doubt stumble across a Cherokee, and possibly a Cherokee Chief or Comanche on the Horizon having a Fiesta if that’s what you Aspire to.

    The other day, I was shining a Laser at some Cobalt to figure out where the Aztecs had hidden the treasures of El Dorado. Just then, an Eagle appeared and with his Talon, he grabbed ahold of a Brat, flying him to another Galaxie from his hometown of Cheyenne, and making him a real Trailblazer in the process.

    Now as I retire for the evening, after receiving much Acclaim, I realize that the day’s events are just a Prelude to what my Grand Caravan will experience along El Camino as we compete in the Carrera.

  • avatar

    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 gook 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.


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