Lost in Translation

Japanese is a unique yet dynamic language. Apart from the fact that it has three alphabets and three levels of respect language, it imports foreign words more than any other language on the planet. Words like 'pan' from French meaning bread, 'arubaito' from the German word meaning part-time job, and cos-play (or costume-play) which refers to people who like dressing up in the costumes of their favourite cartoon characters.

But the strange thing is that many of the words the country imports are somehow compromised and molded into Japanese in ways whereby they lose their original meaning. And nowhere is this practice more prevalent than in Japan's car industry. Many of the car names here are simply outrageous.

Take the Daihatsu Naked for example. For some unknown reason, the powers that be at Daihatsu decided to name their chunky, spartan looking 660cc minicar after a state of dress. When I asked one staffer where the name came from, the basic explanation ran along the lines of, "a small car that shows off lots of bare metal inside and out." O-kay, gotcha. But it kind of lost something in the translation we think.

Or what about the Honda Legend? Japan's third biggest car company has some of the better sounding car names like Civic, Accord and Jazz. But when they thought about a name for their flagship model they went for a name that is really quite pretentious and would never be used by an English-based company. What's next? Honda Super Hero?

For years, Toyota has had a fetish with names beginning with the letter 'C.' Who hasn't heard of Corolla, Camry, Corona, Celica, Carina, Crown, Century, Cressida and Celsior. A company executive once told me that names beginning with 'C' have a cleaner, classier feel to them. Can't argue there. Hang on, 'cleaner' and 'classier' start with 'C' too.  Hmmm.

But my favourite names, for weirdness that is, reside in the lineups of Nissan and Mitsubishi. I mean who would name their medium sized sedans 'Gloria' and 'Cedric'? These car names sound more like characters you might find in an Oscar Wilde novel from the late 19th Century.  I think my grandfather once had a mate called Cedric, back before the war. First surfacing in 1959, the Gloria range was merged with the Cedric in the early 1970s and went through several updates. Then in 2004, they were both replaced by, and get this, the Fuga. This name sounds like a rare fungus or mushroom that you might pour over your steak.

Ah, Mitsubishi. The best name by far for a car has to be Legnum station wagon of the mid-90s. It's obvious that there were no English speakers in Mitsubishi's car naming department that day. Crikey, who would name a car with the inference that it makes your leg numb when you drive it? Mitsubishi's naming goes from zany to weird when they named a mini MPV after an Australian wild dog! That's right, Dingo. No, Lindy Chamberlain would not have been happy. When I asked a Mitsubishi PR type why they named a car after a wild dog, I was told that that they did not know a Dingo was an Aussie mutt. So the question begs. Where did they get the name? It's a mystery.

One look at such names and you feel like you are watching a badly dubbed Chinese Kung Fu movie. Remember those early Bruce Lee flicks like The Big Boss, in which the actors' mouths seemed to move at random as the English voiceover struggled to keep up.

Well that's the way the vast majority of Japanese car names make you feel. A little bit weird. It's like you're in a parallel universe where all the rules of language are thrown out the window and just about anything goes. So why do the Japanese use English or Latin sounding words? Simple. They sound more exotic and culturally deeper than Japanese names, even if the locals don't understand the actual meaning of the adopted word. That's right, only one percent of the Japanese population can speak English at a level that allows them to communicate freely with native speakers. The problem is however, many of the names they use just don't make sense.

The new Subaru Levorg, which was launched in Japan this year, sounds more like a rapper's name than a 4WD turbo. I can see it now. "Lady Gaga featuring Levorg." At least it's better than Legacy, which is known as the Liberty in Australia, for obvious reasons.

Japanese also like words ending in the letter 'o,' because many male and female names end in 'o' and to finish a car name with 'o' makes it sound more friendly, cute and fun. So it is no coincidence that many 660cc minicars are given Italian or Latin-sounding names such as Solio, Pino, Moco, Toppo, Cervo or Mira Gino.

There we go again. Now I feel as though I need some English subtitles to help me understand what those names mean. The trouble is that the Japanese don't even know...