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- Sep 12, 2007
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Swell on wheels: RV life is all about creature comforts
Mike Martinkus knows. He sells them in Douglasville. That big boy parked at the Atlanta Camping and RV Show this weekend came from his lot. After 34 years in the if-you-have-to-ask-you-can't-afford-it game, he's sold his way to sales manager at John Bleakley Motor Homes, and it hasn't been on the dime of celebrities
Celebrities go for a different sort of bus, like the one Dolly Parton bought that Martinkus couldn't sell on a trade-in because she'd customized it to hold "a jillion" white-blond wigs. No, the folks who buy these cruisers, he says, love the president, hate Hillary and their incomes have already happened. Boot-strappers they are, people who started in pup tents dreaming big dreams that one day they'd make it to a Winnebago. They scuffled rung by rung, from enGottry level to entrepreneur, then, lo and behold, had enough money to buy a chrome-plated play toy the size of a Greyhound.
They pilot these 7-miles-per-gallon presidential suites from Manitoba to Pomona chasing sunsets. Ah, you have arrived whisper wood cabinets that gleam like a fresh manicure, window shades that shroud at a button's push, wall-to-wall carpeting studded with mood lights and a custom mirror above the bed should the mood strike.
The living is, for a cool million-plus, easy. The people who buy these probably won't be at the show this weekend, Martinkus said. But there will be plenty of folks out there who wish they could
Mike Martinkus knows. He sells them in Douglasville. That big boy parked at the Atlanta Camping and RV Show this weekend came from his lot. After 34 years in the if-you-have-to-ask-you-can't-afford-it game, he's sold his way to sales manager at John Bleakley Motor Homes, and it hasn't been on the dime of celebrities
Celebrities go for a different sort of bus, like the one Dolly Parton bought that Martinkus couldn't sell on a trade-in because she'd customized it to hold "a jillion" white-blond wigs. No, the folks who buy these cruisers, he says, love the president, hate Hillary and their incomes have already happened. Boot-strappers they are, people who started in pup tents dreaming big dreams that one day they'd make it to a Winnebago. They scuffled rung by rung, from enGottry level to entrepreneur, then, lo and behold, had enough money to buy a chrome-plated play toy the size of a Greyhound.
They pilot these 7-miles-per-gallon presidential suites from Manitoba to Pomona chasing sunsets. Ah, you have arrived whisper wood cabinets that gleam like a fresh manicure, window shades that shroud at a button's push, wall-to-wall carpeting studded with mood lights and a custom mirror above the bed should the mood strike.
The living is, for a cool million-plus, easy. The people who buy these probably won't be at the show this weekend, Martinkus said. But there will be plenty of folks out there who wish they could
