Then came "Speedy" Pete, the local pizza delivery kid whose tires had less grip than a pat of butter. He stared at the sign, then at his empty wallet. "I can only afford one, Mr. Vane. Does the deal still work?"

Silas looked at the kid's frayed tires—accidents waiting to happen. He grabbed two fresh Michelins off the rack. "Today, Pete, the math is different. You buy one, the second one is on the house. Consider it a 'keep-our-roads-safe' tax."

That changed the day Silas found himself in a bidding war for the old Miller estate. He needed cash fast to buy the lot next door before a generic mega-corp turned it into a car wash. Desperate, Silas dragged a chalkboard out to the curb and wrote three words that made the town stop in its tracks: By noon, the line of cars stretched past the town square.

The first customer was Mrs. Higgins, who drove a sedan that shook like a wet dog. "Silas, is it true? Two tires for the price of one?"