I guess I’m pretty unimaginative. I either ride the Fargo or the Vaya. Guess it’s a good thing I don’t own a boat. I’d probably just name it “The Boat”.

Same name as my previous bike. What's worse when talking rides, I use the pronoun We. I do have a second bike a Dahon folder, named the Folding Flyer.

After reading your profile information, I applaud the continuing nod to your childhood.

I only started naming my bikes when I bought "The Princess" from my brother.  It's a Look frame with a mishmash of components hung on it.  (Once when he had it in the shop for something he wasn't prepared to do on his own, the mechanic gave it a quick glance and diagnosed its heritage: 'Bought a frame, huh?')

The name was applied by my sister-in-law, in response to a story my brother had read and related to her.  It seems that back in the early days of cycle sport a socially prominent gentleman of the French minor aristocracy had been seeing a less-than-genteel female companion on a regular and extended basis.  She, jealous of the time and attention he lavished on his bike, dubbed it "the princess."

At a pivotal point in their relationship, she presented the gent with an ultimatum: either the bike had to go, or she would.  Without a moment's hesitation the fellow made his decision: he scooped her up, dropped her into the Seine, and rode happily off on The Princess.

On hearing this story my sister-in-law immediately christened the bike "The Princess"... and of course the name stuck.  Happily, she's not been dumped unceremoniously into the Seine or any other waterway.

Bruce.   None of my other bikes have names (other than "the recumbent," "the fast bike," "the mountain bike"), mainly because they have no real significance. My first "touring" bike (a racing bike because I didn't know any better) had meaning, but never accepted a name - nothing ever fit.

 Bruce, who is 25 years old now, remained unnamed until a few years ago when the designer died. I named it Bruce in honor of him, and it fit.

Keith,

I've named two touring bikes that I've ridden in the past decade.  The first was my Thorn Raven, bought in the winter of 2013/14.  This was my first dedicated touring bike, so in acknowledgement of that, I called it "Osibisa"--"Osi", for short.  This was my homage to the splendid UK/Ghanaian band of the same name, especially their Woyaya song, anthemic for friends and colleagues in West Africa in the '70s and '80s. Here's a very good version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?...  Of course one can load all sorts of literal and figurative meanings onto songs about journeys, but Osi carried me and my gear comfortably, reliably and joyfully for several years on three continents.

Then, earlier this year, I decided to treat myself to a new bike for my 75th birthday:  also a Thorn, but this time a light-medium touring bike, where Osi is designed for medium-heavy touring.  I felt a little disloyal, I have to say -- but Osi's new owner, a friend of our daughter's in Hamilton, Ont., is over the moon about her new ride.  Osi fits her perfectly, and she's delighted with the Rohloff. "Wow!" she said. "All I have to do to change gears is to twist the grip!" 

My new bike is a Thorn Mercury Mk 3, so--obviously, I thought--it should be named Freddie.  I checked with a a couple of friends, and they said, "But of course!" So "the Mercury" became "Freddie". Queen's music doesn't have quite the same memories for me as does Osibisa, but I do have a soft spot for Zanzibar and the few Zanzibaris I've been privileged to know.  Here's a photo of Freddie in our back yard, taken in May of this year:

I also sold a light touring bike to part-finance Freddie, a ti-framed Eclipse which I bought in 2002.  I called that "the Eclipse", and that seemed to pre-empt any special name.  Truth be told, it was a very nice ride, but I had repeated and exasperating skirmishes with rear derailleurs for the better part of two decades. Only about 2018 did I finally get everything sorted. 

(Those clouds did have a silver lining:  in 2013, after being unable to shift to my lowest gear on a steep hillside in the Ottawa Valley, and pushing a loaded bike further than I wanted to, I said, "Sod it. There has to be a better way." And-lo!--shortly thereafter I was inducted into the Church of Rohloff.)

Cheers,  John

Great stories, John.

As others have mentioned, brand and colour are the limits of my imagination in naming my bikes. So when I truthfully declare that I’ve cycled long distances sitting on a Thorn, people either look at me with a mix of sympathy and pity, or slowly walk away without making eye contact.

people either look at me with a mix of sympathy and pity, or slowly walk away without making eye contact

Dunno, Graham, strikes me there's a serious lack of cognoscenti in your neighbourhood, or too many ravin' literalists... 😉

Never worry about being too subtle or metaphorical, eh. 😉

I don't usually name them, but to try and answer the inevitable question, I do have 'Muskelkraft' (muscle power) in big letters on the side of my velomobile. Too many questions about "You got a motor in there?"

But now the some of the locals have decided it's okay to use as a name to refer to the bike or to me... Just smile and wave... just smile and wave.