The van needed cosmetic work. Tip Reiger couldn’t have cared less, except he was selling ComfortLove blankets out of it.
He got the idea for the blankets from a dermatology PHD who was working as a masseuse out of her house in Downey.
Tip offered to cut her in, but she just wished him luck, told him he was fab but she was going back to her ex who roasted coffee beans grown by sightless adults on a farm in Baja.
He whatevered, then found an old high school pal with a small textile manufacturing company.
The blankets sold, Tip was great at selling things other than himself, but he was starting to feel the strain of pulling up in random truck stops and hawking his “life changing” blankets.
The blankets came in Cosmic Cobalt and Blossom Burgundy, and Tip was down to four Burgundy.
He pulled into Gateway (Gateway to what?) Truck Stop and heard more than saw a tour bus shear off the front bumper of the van.
He wasn’t mad.
Now the van fix was an insurance job.
The bus driver approached him as though he was probably going to be furious.
Tip couldn’t be dishonest. It was a fault.
He thought about a little play acting thing, but it was pretty straight forward–insurance would cover it and he’d add a few bells.
He hoped none of the old people on the tour bus…
Tip blinked. It wasn’t an old people tourist tour bus.
It was a music tour bus.
And the entire side of the bus was wrapped like the new Pleasant Vorhyme album art.
Two giant men got out and flanked the driver.
Another giant man walked up behind them, with a petite blonde, hair pulled back.
A woman came from nowhere and started telling the petite blonde to get back in the bus.
“Carbon copy Christ on a crutch, Emily, I just want to make sure no one is hurt. My face is on the damn bus.”
Tip walked backwards, staring at the pop star.
He popped open the back door and pulled out a Blossom Burgundy ComfortLove blanket.
Walking back to the entourage, ignoring the bus driver, he said “Miss Vorhyme, late night traffic accidents can be traumatic, I’d like you to have one of my ComfortLove blankets.”
The giant man next to her grumbled.
He reached and took the blanket.
“Aww, that’s sweet,” Pleasant said.
“Maybe we could take a selfie with it?”
Pleasant turned to the woman. They spoke quietly.
Forty five minutes later Tip was leaning against his van, waiting for Pleasant’s people to finish her hair and makeup.
Tip laughed.
The Gateway Truck Stop was about to be the gateway to some extremely symbiotic public relations.
Making sure no one was looking, he pulled the crumpled chunk of bumper from inside his van, and kissed it.
The cold, twisted composite fiber was, at this moment, more comforting than the blanket.
“Tip was great at selling anything except himself” hit home. Love this one.
Lemonade out of lemons, being in the right place at the right time, all roads lead to Roma! A mix of all good things to the road to success. Bravo to you Jimmy, love your creative themes...