I've always admired your skill at choosing apt, memorable names, Greg, and The Reckless Mr. Bing Bong definitely heads the list.  Son of Bing Bong must feel slighted though, going without so much as a mention of his existence.  (I know the original post predates your acquisition of Son of Bing Bong but you didn't mention him here, either...)

"Jim the Tent" isn't the only portable shelter with a moniker.  My first REI tent was quickly dubbed "The Rainmaker": on our very first night out together, it produced a thunderstorm and monsoon-like rains of epic, even Biblical proportion.  And the tent... leaked.

Its smaller, lighter successor, which accompanied me on this summer's tour, has yet to be really tested in the area of waterproofness, nor has it revealed either its superhero identity or mild-mannered alter ego persona.  All things in time, I guess.

Keith, sometimes I'll name a bike. 

Years ago I had a Roberts I always called Bob. It was a very informal bike.

These days the Ogre is just "the Ogre," but I think that's a pretty good name on its own.

Once upon a time on a prairie far, far away, my girlfriend du jour complained "Your bike always goes faster when you coast than mine goes when I'm pedaling." So I named it Coaster.

I have a couple that are pretty special to me and at least one that I intend to always keep even when I can no longer ride.  I can't walk past it without giving it a pat.  I still never named any of them though.

"You’ve got the Phinney Ridge model though, so you might play with that."

I've toyed with "Davis", in honor of Davis Phinney.  We have a couple friends with Parkinson's Disease, as he has.  One of those friends was an avid cyclist and joined me for a short tandem tour in the mid-1990s.

But in the end I've not really followed either his racing career nor his life afterward, and of course Future Bike is a beast of burden not a racing thoroughbred.

Still...

Hi,

I have always referred to my bikes by their manufacturer’s name: the Orbea, the Crème, the Bianchi, etc. That is until my wife named my Schwinn as « Golden Boy », because it was painted metallic yellow and she likes Robert Redford who played a ball player with a bat named Golden Boy in The Natural. At times I’ve referred to a bike by its color, such as the Black Bianchi and the Green Bianchi, or it’s initials like the Vélo Orange campeur AKA V.O. But so far only one bike had a name. Sue always refers to them by color, though.

Cheers,

Keith

I really think Davis is too obscure.  No one will get it unless you explain it to them, and then folks that don’t follow the racers will just roll their eyes or glaze over.  Now Huck, that’s a different story.  Everyone would get that.

Davis has been on the Possible Names list ever since I learned that I would be customizing a Phinney Ridge, but you're right.  Nobody unfamiliar with pro racing in the early 1980s would understand.  Not that it's important for the name to mean anything to anyone other than me...

I keep coming back to Trooper, but haven't eliminated Huck, Voyager, or Endurance.  There's just something about Trooper that strikes a chord in my psyche.  However, the final name won't be chosen until the bike is in hand and has been ridden a bit.

This reminds me of the debate in the genome research community.  One school of thought holds that names should systematically describe the location of the gene in question.  The other school names them according to their function, sometimes quite whimsically.

There's one gene in particular that has been named by the functional school.  In fruit flies, a mutation of the gene causes the flies to either act drunk, or to actually get drunk on a very small amount of alcohol.  ("Small amount", by fruit fly standards, must be miniscule indeed.)

The name of that gene?  "Cheap Date".  Who says scientists don't have a sense of humor?

Well, if it's a Phinney Ridge you could call it The Phridge. Apologies to the Chicago football player of years ago.

As for me I have had 5 bikes in my adult life. My Raleigh Grand Prix never had a name that stuck. My Specialized Sequoia is, as you know, named The Mule. I originally was going to name it Scout, Kemosabe, but you took it. So I named it Molnir because you have to be pure of heart to lift the bloody beast. That morphed into The Mule which seemed appropriate for its use carrying my stuff on commutes and tours.

My Tour Easy recumbent was originally named Nellie, because I uttered the old Keith Jackson line "Whoa, Nellie" when I rode it down Big Savage Mountain in western Maryland and hit 48 mph. 

Then I bought my Bike Friday New World Tourist. I happened to be watching all the James Bond movies with my son around that time. In You Only Live Twice he says, "Tell Q, send Little Nellie" which turned out to be code for an ultralight air craft that came in a crate. (The ensuing dog fight manages to make Bond look like an idiot but that's another story.) The bike arrived in a suitcase and as I was assembling it for the first time the resemblance sold me on the name. This required me to re-name Nellie as Big Nellie.

I have a black Surly Cross Check that I have been trying to name for a long time. I first tried The Hell Bitch after Woodrow Call's huge horse in Lonesome Dove. Except that horse was more white than black. So then I tried Deets, the trust scout in Lonesome Dove played by Danny Glover. He was said to be "faithful in all weathers." Somehow the name never stuck. I'm still searching.

Well, if it's a Phinney Ridge you could call it The Phridge. Apologies to the Chicago football player of years ago.

As for me I have had 5 bikes in my adult life. My Raleigh Grand Prix never had a name that stuck. My Specialized Sequoia is, as you know, named The Mule. I originally was going to name it Scout, Kemosabe, but you took it. So I named it Molnir because you have to be pure of heart to lift the bloody beast. That morphed into The Mule which seemed appropriate for its use carrying my stuff on commutes and tours.

My Tour Easy recumbent was originally named Nellie, because I uttered the old Keith Jackson line "Whoa, Nellie" when I rode it down Big Savage Mountain in western Maryland and hit 48 mph. 

Then I bought my Bike Friday New World Tourist. I happened to be watching all the James Bond movies with my son around that time. In You Only Live Twice he says, "Tell Q, send Little Nellie" which turned out to be code for an ultralight air craft that came in a crate. (The ensuing dog fight manages to make Bond look like an idiot but that's another story.) The bike arrived in a suitcase and as I was assembling it for the first time the resemblance sold me on the name. This required me to re-name Nellie as Big Nellie.

I have a black Surly Cross Check that I have been trying to name for a long time. I first tried The Hell Bitch after Woodrow Call's huge horse in Lonesome Dove. Except that horse was more white than black. So then I tried Deets, the trust scout in Lonesome Dove played by Danny Glover. He was said to be "faithful in all weathers." Somehow the name never stuck. I'm still searching.