It was always going to be a bit odd: Travelling all the way to the farthest reaches of West Wales to meet a lady by the name of Scania Price. For someone who has worked around trucks for the thick end of 20 years, having a conversation about the price of a Scania occurs often enough, but to have a chat over lunch with someone whose name just happens to be Scania Price…? Well, they say there’s nothing stranger than the truth and this was looking like the story that was going to prove the rule.

“I’ll be outside the station when you arrive,” Scania had said. “Just look for the green Beetle.” And sure enough, bang on cue, there it was. Although not so much green, more a kind of fluorescent lime colour, looking like a highlighter pen on wheels, complete with personalised number plate. “She’s my pride and joy,” laughs Scania. “I do like things that are a little bit different – maybe it’s something to do with my name, you know!”

And so we were off, the odd interview was beginning. “So tell me about it,” I say, acutely aware of asking the obvious. “How did you come by...?” “The name Scania?” interjects Scania. “Well, there is a bit of story to it, I have to confess.

“I’m a child of the sixties and at that time my mother, Christine, was dedicated to living the hedonistic lifestyle of the day. She spent several years in Spain with her friends, working as a grape picker and it was during that time I was conceived. My mother was never one to conform, so I guess I was always destined to have an unusual name. In fact, she has told me that if I’d been born a boy I would have been called Rachmaninov – so things could have been far worse!

“Behind my mum’s reasoning was the fact that she had been bought up in a class at school with five or six other Christines. This was always a recipe for confusion and she didn’t want her children to suffer the same fate – and, boy, did she make sure of that!

“To this day, my mother is adamant that she named me after an area of Sweden and up until the age of 15 I never had any cause to doubt her. But one day that all changed…

“I was on a work-experience placement from school at the time and just happened to bump into a friend of my Auntie Suzanne, both who had been with my mother in Spain. We got talking and my name came up in the conversation.  ‘You do know why you’re called Scania, don’t you?’ she said. I replied that I thought I did, but she shook her head. She told me that when my mother found out she was pregnant, she decided to come back home. And because he wanted to see the new baby, my Uncle John, (Suzanne’s late husband and another friend from the grape picking group), thought he’d come back too.

“John hitch-hiked home and at one point, while travelling through France, was picked up by a truck. And, yes – you’ve guessed it – it was a Scania truck. On hearing the story of his journey home, my mother decided Scania would make a great name for a baby girl, (remember, this was the sixties –the time when people like Frank Zappa were calling their babies names such as ‘Moon Unit’!). So that’s how it came about. Mum would never admit it, but I’m convinced my Auntie Suzanne’s friend really knew the true story!”

Mixed blessing
For Scania Price, growing up in the ’70s and ’80s while sharing a name with an increasingly prevalent make of commercial vehicle was a mixed blessing. “I always liked my name, but have to confess I did get the mickey taken a bit,” she says. “‘Here comes the two-ton truck’ they would say at school or, ‘Saw you on the motorway today!’ It got even worse when fire engines started appearing with my name on – but I didn’t really mind. My middle name is Rhiannon and my mother used to say I could change them round if I wanted, but I never did.

“I did go through a period of trying to make it appear a bit different, though, just so it wouldn’t look so much like the truck. I’d spell it ‘Scannia’, or ‘Scaniia’ but it never stuck!

“At the time, we were living in Cardiff and I’d often go past the Scania dealer on Penarth Road (Silurian Scania). After what Auntie Suzanne had told me, I started really wanting to go in and say, ‘Hi, my name’s Scania’. But I never plucked up the courage. I thought they might just say, ‘Yes – so what?’ You see, for all I knew, there could have been lots of other people called ‘Scania’ around.”