Do you name your bikes? I do, and I’m not the least embarrassed about it (even if I should be).

My first bike was a 150cc Zongshen I called Blinkin, after the blind servant in “Men in Tights.” Why? Maybe because neither of us could see where we were going on this whole motorcycle adventure thing, or maybe because I’d watched that Robin Hood parody one too many times while trying to figure out how to change the oil.

Then came Lucy. Or rather, Lucifer—because when you’re positively terrified of your first Big Bike, especially off-road, especially as you’re about to embark on the TAT expedition, you might as well lean into that fear and name the bike after the Prince of Darkness himself.

Later, as we developed a somewhat dysfunctional but loving relationship, Lucifer mellowed into Lucy. Yeah, we’re buds now. The kind of buds that have survived everything from an airlift on the Trans Labrador Highway to a tornado in Albania, from clutch-burning exercises in Cuba to getting chewed on by my Spanish Mastiff.

Even my rental bikes don’t escape the naming ceremony. Dirt bikes automatically become Diego (like the sabretooth tiger in Ice Age, because it takes me a while to trust them), while adventure bikes get christened as Mo. Essentially, it’s like some weird motorcycling version of witness protection.

The Name Game: From Sensible to Slightly Unhinged

And I’m not alone in this beautiful madness. Some riders go the sensible route with names like Buddy, Moxie, or Spitfire – perfectly respectable choices that wouldn’t raise eyebrows at a motorcycle meetup.

But then there are the brave souls who throw caution (and sometimes sanity) to the wind. Venture down the Reddit rabbit hole, and you’ll find everything from Hayabrosa (I see what you did there) to Esmeralda, from Starlight to Amun-Ra. Because apparently, if you’re going to anthropomorphize your machine, might as well go full Egyptian deity. I’ve also heard of a guy duct-taping a green 250cc together and naming it Kwikasfaki; I’m not sure whether that’s an urban legend or not, but I’m fully on board with it.

The Psychology Behind the Weirdness

There’s actually some science behind our need to name our motorcycles. Psychologists call it anthropomorphization: the tendency to attribute human characteristics to non-human things. I call it “having a relationship status that’s complicated with a machine.”

But here’s the thing: these names become more than just nicknames. They become characters in our stories. “My DR650 broke down” sounds like a maintenance issue. “Lucy decided to take a tactical nap in the middle of the Bolivian altiplano”—now that’s a story. One that usually involves some bargaining with higher powers and promises of premium oil changes that we both know might not happen.

When Names Become Adventure Characters

The longer you ride with your named bike, the more personality it seems to develop. Lucy, for instance, has a particular talent for choosing the most spectacular places to throw tantrums. Like that time in Bosnia when he decided that yes, we absolutely needed to take an unplanned swim in what turned out to be a swamp. Or that memorable moment in Cuba when he decided that clutches are overrated anyway.

And the weird thing is, these names start affecting how we ride. You treat a bike named Lucifer differently than one named Buttercup. Though I’ve met a Buttercup that was absolutely savage on the trails, so maybe that’s not the best example.

The Name Evolution: From Fear to Friendship

Sometimes, these names evolve with our relationships with the bikes. Lucifer becoming Lucy wasn’t just a nickname change – it marked a transition from “What have I gotten myself into” to “Yeah, we got this.” Well, mostly got this. Sometimes. When the stars align and the tire pressure is just right.

It’s like that moment when you stop seeing your bike as just a machine and start seeing it as your partner in crime. Sure, it might be a partner that occasionally leaves you stranded in questionable places, but hey – the best friendships have their quirks, right?

The Rental Dilemma

And then there’s the whole rental bike situation. Some might say naming a bike you’ll only have for a week is excessive. Those people have clearly never had to sweet-talk a rental Tuareg with road tires up a gravel mountain trail in Spain. Every Diego and Mo I’ve temporarily adopted has needed their fair share of encouragement and/or threats of violence that their regular riders probably never follow through on.

So What’s In a Name?

Maybe it’s not about the names at all. Maybe it’s about acknowledging that these machines become more than just transportation. They become our companions on journeys that change us, our partners in adventures that we’ll tell stories about for years to come, and sometimes, our therapists on long, lonely roads.

Or maybe we’re all just a little weird. But hey, at least we’re  weird together.

What about you? Got any named bikes with stories to tell?