Why I need a name for my mum's car.

So, a couple of weeks ago, at age 25 (yes i know that’s a quarter of century...grr) I finally got my driving license. The first thing I did was go to my grandmother’s house and get my mum’s car...which may very well become mine if my stay here is prolonged (very likely). I started driving around and it was only when I got over the fear of destroying it, me or random pedestrians that I realised the car was in serious need of a makeover. This morning I decided to clean it and change the seat covers*. Of course, after a week of beautiful sunshine and bright blue skies, the fog descended on Asti...the sort of fog that if you look down you can barely see what shoes you’re wearing...But I couldn’t let a bit of blurry vision stop me. Armed with a vacuum cleaner I started to clean. An hour later I was still cleaning and an hour after that i was... i was still cleaning. It became an obsession; for every speck of dust i cleaned i was convinced that there were a thousand more. I stripped it of the old seat covers ( i think they’ve been around since my granddad bought the car for my mum in ’94...you do the maths) and vacuum cleaned every nook and cranny. It was after the first half of the second hour had passed that I started to talking to it. I’ve been talking to it in my head ever since I started driving it but this morning I actually spoke out loud and waited patiently for it to respond. Conclusion? The car needs a name...It needs a name because I can’t say “I was talking to my car the other day and...” without getting strange looks BUT if i name it I can say “I was talking to Bob the other day and...” No one needs to know who “Bob”** is and I can continue talking to the car without feeling silly ...Only problem now is that the car doesn’t look or behave like a Bob...suggestions are welcomed


*i think i’m going to buy material and make them myself...leopard skin all the way (ewww...)
** sorry S, it was the first name that popped into my head!