For this Member’s Motor, we look at Andrew Snowden’s ’71 Early Bay and his quest to give her a name.

What’s in a name?

As I write this, our van has been in our ownership for exactly ten years.

She is ‘the van’. We have never found another name that suits her – and she definitely is a ‘her’ – despite trying a number of names over the years.

We initially tried ‘Sydney’/’Cyd’ and then ‘Adelaide’ in recognition of the van’s roots. She is a ‘71 Australian Early Bay. But neither name stuck. ‘Sheila’ certainly didn’t fit. ‘Bluey’ didn’t work despite her colour.

We tried ‘Roxy’ for a while, as a homage to Rocinante, the horse ridden by Don Quixote as he roamed across Spain in the Middle Ages, madly trying to hold on to a chivalric world that was being overtaken by modernity. A bit like me, or any classic VW driver, I thought! But the name ‘Roxy’ didn’t catch on.

More recently, we tried ‘Scooby’ to reflect the new heart in our van – a two litre Subaru engine. That didn’t stick. An unkind friend now refers to her as the ‘Sub-dub’, a lesser being in his view. But, understandably, not our name for her.

In the end, says Jane, my patient wife, if the van had a name, she’d have let us know by now. So the van remains ‘the van’. And over the last ten years ‘the van’ has taken us across Spain, to France on numerous occasions, and to many festivals and campsites across the UK.

In the early years of ownership, she wasn’t a reliable traveller, to say the least, and we became adept at keeping calm when she broke down badly, enjoying a glass of wine once she was on a low-loader and talking about how we were saving on petrol costs and getting to our destination far quicker!

The scariest moment was in Spain, coming down the long descent from Puerto de Somosierra, when the brakes started making a terrible noise that even turning up the stereo didn’t hide! We nursed the van to the nearest campsite and decided to take advantage of our breakdown insurance. The next day a mechanic checked out the braking system, used my WD40 and mallet, and suggested that we just take it easy for the rest of our trip and use the brakes more sparingly on steep descents. At least I hoped that’s what he said! He couldn’t speak any English and couldn’t understand our basic Spanish. He probably said, ‘it’s a death trap and I’ll report you to the police if you try to leave the campsite’! But we had no further problems.

These days, after much fettling and a great new engine, she’s an absolute joy which can be relied on to get us to our destination and, more importantly, get us home again. The last pre-lockdown French trip covered 2000 miles, taking in Classic Le Mans and the Cahors Jazz and Blues Festival without a hiccup. This year, we have toured North Yorkshire and Cornwall without a hitch. Not bad for a 50 year old vehicle.

I’m not sure why she is a ‘she’. The colour? Her mannerisms? It’s a strange thing given that our previous Bay Westie was, within minutes of ownership, a ‘he’ and within hours named ‘Greg’. In a recent fit of nostalgia, I googled Greg’s registration number – PPH 138L – to see what had become of him. I came across an old request on Volkszone from more recent owners of ‘Bertha’ (Bertha??) who had just had her restored and were searching for her previous history! If there are any magazine readers who know of Bertha (aka Greg), we had her/him from 1999 until 2005. Given the registration number, I can’t understand why we and subsequent owners didn’t name the campervan ‘Phil’ or, if she really is a female, ‘Phyllis’. Strange things, campervan names.

I guess a name gives a van greater personality or individuality or even humanity. But there are limits. In the late 90s, we were looking for a late bay in our price range and one seller invited us to view ‘Poppy’ which was parked in his back garden. ‘Please call out to her as you go past the garage’, he said. ‘Poppy doesn’t like people sneaking up on her’! Giving a van a name is one thing. It may even have a personality. Giving it psychological issues is a step too far. In my view.

OK, our van may not have a name. But at least she has no hang-ups! And she’s given us 10 years of great enjoyment.