Also, the cab was spacious. The driver’s seat was large enough for Bronx to sit there comfortably, and he and Nevis weren’t squashed together either. Maybe that dated back to the days when drivers needed to be both fit and muscular to handle the trucks. Now, power steering and automation had meant enormous physical strength was no longer essential. But comfortable seats still were good.
Once they’d discussed the route they were taking and how the truck handled on the road, they were all a lot more relaxed.
“We’re making good time even up the hills, because it’s almost empty. We’ll be slower once we’ve gotten all your gear inside,” said Bronx.
York looked back over his shoulder through the window into the body of the truck. The minivan, which Bronx had insisted on bringing with them instead of the green car, only took up maybe a quarter of the available space. It was chained down at the back of the rig, so they could drive it off and use it if they wanted to. Although, that would mean having to carry all their possessions farther, to stack them up front of the rig.
“He needs a name,” said Nevis.
“What? Who needs a name? Why?” York didn’t have the faintest idea what she was talking about.
“The minivan. We can’t keep calling it ‘the minivan’ all the time.”
“Why not? We all know what we’re talking about,” said Bronx.
“You’ll hurt his feelings. Kermit has a name so he needs one, too,” she explained.
“His feelings?” York laughed.
“You won’t laugh the first time he won’t start one day because you’ve upset him,” she warned in a spooky voice.
“It’ll be garaged in the warehouse, not left out in the snow, come winter,” scoffed Bronx.
“If she wants to name it, she can. Women are a foreign country after all. Besides, I quite like the idea of the Dodge being called Kermit. It is very, very green,” said York.
“You’re crazy. Anyway, the van is white,” argued Bronx.
“Walter.”
“What?” York turned and stared at Nevis.
“Walter is his name. He’s white and serviceable. A good hard worker. Walter suits him.”
“I suppose you’re going to want to name this rig as well,” said Bronx.
“Don’t give her ideas.” York was shaking his head, but one glance at the thoughtful look on Nevis’s face told him it was too late.
“Animal.”
“What?” He seemed to be saying that an awful lot lately, but he had no hope at all of following her conversational leaps. Her brain just didn’t seem to move in a logical progression. It was all over the place and a mere man had no hope in hell of figuring out what she meant.
“Animal from The Muppets. He’s reddish orange and there’s a lot of orange paint on the rig. Also, he’s wild and loud, yet very talented, just like this truck.” Nevis leaned forward and patted the dashboard. “Hi, Animal.”
York leaned back in his seat and laughed. “I guess that’s a done deal now.”
Bronx pretended to shudder. “You’re both mad. Stark, raving insane.”
“That’s because I’m hungry. Let me see how far it is to the next town so we can eat.”
“You aren’t going to be able to park Animal anywhere but at a truck stop. He’s way too big. And it’s too much trouble to offload Walter just to go buy food.”
“There’ll be a truck stop sooner or later. Besides, the food at those places is usually very good and I’m hungry,” said Bronx.
Now it was Nevis shaking her head at them.
“Aren’t you hungry? What kind of foods do you like? What’s your favorite?” Suddenly he wanted to know more about her.
“Back up a minute. I’m not finished with names yet.”
York groaned. Now what was she going to name? The trailer? The warehouse?
“What’s your last name, York? You know my surname is Greenway, and I saw Bronx sign the papers for Mike as Montaine, but I’ve never been told your last name.”
“Ah yes, that’s because I don’t have one. We wolves of the Hot Springs pack have never had family names. It wasn’t needed. We stayed on the mountain. When we had to have one, people chose a name like Springs. Or Mountain. Or, like Bronx, a version of the word mountain. I guess you’d better name me as well.”
“But what about paperwork? Birth certificates and so on?”
“It’s perfectly legal to call yourself any name you want, as long as it’s not used for criminal purposes. But also, there’s special arrangements made for people who don’t have family names as such, like some of the Native American groups, and people who come from other countries. Did you know, that in Iceland the last name is made by using your father’s name with either son or daughter after it? My father’s name was Paul so I’d be York Paulson. If I was a girl I’d be Paulsdaughter.”