Target Audience:
Men in the midst of their midlife crisis
Neat Freaks
The Parents of Hurricane Bryson
The designated neighborhood Soccer Mom
People who buy their dog coffee for some Godforsaken reason
People whose name their children anything with unnecessary Y-s (lookin at you, Ashylynn’s mom).
Insight:
The very thing that your car needs to be protected from is you. Between coffee spills, melted crayons, and Goldfish left in the chasm between your seats. You and your children are as unforgiving forces of nature as hurricanes, tsunamis, or earthquakes.
We will protect your car from you.
WeatherTech
Int. Car - Night
Rain comes down in sheets, buffeting the windshield. A deep, rumbling voice like thunder begins to speak.
DEEP VO: The voice told me, “you are not strong enough to weather the storm.
WeatherTech products are revealed all over the car: seat protectors, rubber floor mats, the lot of them.
DEEP VO: I told him:
In the back sits a three year old, BRYSON. He has his hands in a bag of cheesy snacks, the dust of which coats his fingers.
Bryson opens his mouth, but instead of his voice, the booming VO spills from his mouth.
BRYSON/DEEP VO: “I AM THE STORM.”
Bryson erupts, roaring a mighty roar, throwing his snacks everywhere, rubbing his cheesy fingers on the seats: chaos incarnate, a force of nature.
All of his attacks on the sanctity and cleanliness of the car are countered by the weathertech products. Cheesy snacks that would be ground into a fine powder are caught by the mats. The seat protectors are unmarked by his fingers. He breaths a sign of exhaustion and tuckers out.
SUPER: Weathertech: You are the Storm.
