Yesterday I was driving in downtown Columbus, in line behind one of those generic, ubiquitous, slow-moving SUVs. I looked at the colossal rear end of the vehicle and saw that it was called the Buick Enclave.
The Enclave? Now there’s a car name.
The Enclave is both evocative and designed to appeal to a very specific segment of the population. Evocative, because the enormous car actually looked like a big, boxy, rolling chunk of metal capable of sheltering a healthy segment of the population from the ravages of the outside world. Of limited and specific appeal, because no one who buys an Enclave is looking for anything sporty or daring. Nope, they want safety, and comfortable seats, and lots of cupholders where they can store the drinks they’re sipping in happy security as ugly, dangerous reality slides by outside their windows.
Car manufacturers do a pretty good job with names that define the vehicle itself, like the Mustang, or the Challenger, or the Nissan Cube. The Buick Enclave, I think, has to have a place in the Pantheon of great car names. But should it concern us that there apparently is a healthy market of American car buyers who are looking for a rolling enclave?