As Ben Hamper once wrote for his book, ‘The Rivethead’… “Certain names have been changed in this book to expose the innocent and protect the guilty.” Well I say the guilty deserve every bit of publicity we can give them in this world. Especially when a few longtime criminals have names that can change by the minute and circumstance. Exposing the guilty is a public service and I will let you, the reader, know about these worthless bastards with just an absolute minimal amount of alphabetical alteration. As for the innocent…
Stan was not among them. For the life of me I will never figure out why he went straight to his place of residence. But he certainly made it easy for the police. Soon after he came home, I had three of Georgia’s finest knocking on his door.
“Do you want to press charges?” I was asked as I rolled down the window and pulled near the closest man in blue.
“Not so long as I get all my property back.” The sheriff was accompanied by several deputies and unlike my county’s police force, this one was well-funded and well-staffed.
“Is this all you need?” The officer got me the keys to the car along with the license plate.
“He also has keys to the lot.”
The sheriff approaches Stan, whose fingers I can see shaking from 100 feet away. After a minute, he came back…
“He says he doesn’t have them…”
“Tell him I’m filing charges if I don’t get them back.”
Stan tried to fumble through his pocket and before he could so much as open his pocket I heard in a voice as loud as an air siren…
“Get your hands away from your jacket!”
Wow. That was a big mistake. North Georgia is rapidly becoming a meth hotbed and Stan would eventually have secrets that not even I could imagine. The police helped him uncover the keys with his hands tucked beyond his back. The sheriff looked at me and said, “Are you sure you don’t want to press charges.”
“Not tonight. If I ever see him again I guarantee it will be his last day of freedom.” The sheriff asked if there’s anything else I need help with. We walked away from Stan and the three other police officers
“Can you follow me to the gas station. I need to drive the car away from here so that it gets safely picked up.”
“No problem.”
I parked the near-stolen car a few miles away at a nearby QT gas station. These places are brightly lit and the police will often congregate around them due to their easy access to the highways. I let the store manager know about the vehicle and had it safely picked up later that evening. The sheriff gave me a lift back..
“Hey. Haven’t I seen you up at Red Top?”
Indeed he had… I had bought one of the county’s police cars a year back or so and remember idly talking to a sheriff about the differences between Crown Vics, Imaplas and Intrepids. That was the guy! The vehicle I bought had been a 2004 Intrepid with 90k that went for $700. After I bought it, one of the largest wholesalers in the state had asked me, “What are you gonna do with that thing? Become the next Hannibal Lecter?”
It had the rear window bars and cage that so many police enthusiasts coveted. Save for the removed police bar and computer, it was pretty much a stock police vehicle with four new tires to boot. I ended up financing it… having it repoed… almost sold it to a rabbi (he wanted personal transportation and security for the temple’s members), and then sold it to a high school kid who probably wrapped it around a pole. Net proceeds for all that drama were close to five grand.
“Why didn’t you press charges on that guy?”
“The only thing you can do with someone like that is get them out of your life. If I press charges the judge would at most give him a few months jail and a lifetime’s worth of probation. I’ve found that sometimes it’s better to have the threat of prosecution on a scumbag’s head and just have him go down the road and away from your family.”
I won’t quote the rest of the conversation a verbatim. But in my neck of the woods, the prevailing sentiment is to take ‘habitual violators’, shoot them, and dump them on the side of the road. The court system is absolutely infested with repeat offenders who provide little more than revenue for private prisons at the expense of their victims (who rarely have the offender serve half their time), the taxpayer, and the police officer’s health and well-being.
I got out of the cop car, shook the officer’s hand, and was on the road back to my lot. 9:00 PM. I missed having dinner with the wife and kids.
“Calm down. This isn’t worth your energy or thoughts.” As someone who has spent most of his career at auto auctions and car lots, I have a near reflexive tendency to go against the emotions of the moment. Some call it being aloof. For me it’s thinking strategically.
Three calls in seven years. Not too bad. One almost stolen car this evening. One Bishop of a pentecostal church who was literally busted with the keys in hand. One drug laden lady whose ex-husband helped me track the vehicle down. That was it. For a business that was seemingly getting seemlier, I was doing ok for myself. Seven years. Not a single lost car. No fatalities. Just stress.
I got back to the lot and made the final inventory. One missing car. Wait, did I count the right one? Damn it. Looks like one of the rentals didn’t return on time. (340) area code.
I called the cell phone. No answer. Closed the lot up. Drove back home and Googled the (340) area code. U.S. Virgin Islands. Shit. Name on the renter is Deano Marx. Googled his address. Right next to a car lot I know very well. Hmmm… interesting. After a few bits of research I hit paydirt.
Deano lives in a house that’s owned by Gypsys. How can I tell? Seven transactions over ten years with zero cash transacted for each one. This group is likely bilking insurance companies. When I google the address of the current owner his current residence turns out to be a fortune telling business in Marietta. Bobby Marx apparently also owns at least a half dozen other places in and around the city. That doesn’t make a man guilty… but it’s not doing much for my nerves.
Then the moment of clarity. I googled the elder Marx name with the words ‘gypsy arrested’. Got more than I bargained for. Seven figure cash seizures by the IRS. Threats to their own family members. A manipulative psychic syndicate that bilks the weak and gullible. Wait, he has a dealership too? A used car dealership? In Georgia?… and this guy’s son needs a car?
I peeled out of my house and made way for the home of Deano Marx.
Wow Steven, I’m on the edge of my seat for the next installment!
I will now confess that I once knowingly bought a $700 car from a Gypsy fellow. However the title was clear and it was a great car for years. It had evidence of sitting for a while, my theory was that it was picked up at an estate sale for cash and flipped.
Ahh Gypsies. I remember my second or third-ever trip to Georgia when I put an offer on my first house just before i graduated college. Ate at an Italian restaurant in downtown Augusta that the realtor recommended. We walked in and there was a table of over a dozen folks dressed up in 60s-era Mafia-chic. Girls and women decked out with big hair, big jewelry etc only not your standard Southern debutantes, just more antiquated. Funny thing was it was the same realtor who sent us to that restaurant that had even told us that there were in fact Gypsies living in the area. I always got the impression that they typically traveled away from home base to do their “work,” not wanting to crap where they eat so to speak.
I don’t think the ” Edward Niedermeyer” byline on this article is correct.
Right you are… fixed!
Caught me, too. Went back for a second look and it had already changed to “Steven Lang”.
Ah, we knew what you meant!
Steven your life would make a tight rope walkers seem timid. It would be a hoot to hang with you over the course of a week. Or better still how about a reality tv series. Anyone got suggestions for the title. All I can come up with is “RepoDude”
Nah… The Loan Arranger.
+1 for The Loan Arranger. It’d be worth having a series just for the name.
Aaaah Gypsies, growing up in Ireland they were everywhere, i remember diesel kept on disappearing from the fuel bowsers we used to keep our excavators running out on site, the old man finally lost it, went to the shop and pulled every old battery he could find and emptied the acid into the tank. The following morning not a mile from the job site there was 3 Transit vans sitting on the side of the road, not moving, never had a problem after that..
Now that’s funny!
You financed a $700 car??
$700 wholesale plus auction fee ($90 to $100) plus transport ($30 to $50). With minor repairs after the repo I probably had a little bit over a thousand in it.
This business has plenty of victories and defeats when it comes to buying and selling. For that one I came out ahead.
The sheriff approaches Stan, whose fingers I can see shaking from 100 feet away. After a minute, he came back…
“He says he doesn’t have them…”
Am I the only one who reads that and pictures this guy?
“Mugger: Give me the cash!
[Pulls trigger, but nothing happens]
Korben Dallas: [points gun at mugger] That’s a very dangerous gun. Maybe you better let me hang on to this one for you, huh?
[grabs rifle and places it in rack of other guns]
Korben Dallas: You don’t mind, do you?
Mugger: No!
Korben Dallas: You sure?
Mugger: No. Take it. I don’t need it!
Korben Dallas: [giggles while pointing gun at mugger] That’s a very nice hat.
Mugger: You like it? God!
[dances in front of Korben]”
What a story. I, too, want to hear the end. There’s only certain types of people cut out for this sort of work and I am not one of them! You have my respect!
These Lang Sagas make Georgia appear to be like Beirut!
Well, there are entirely too many bottom-of-the-barrel car lots around and too many of the same type of people who are involved with them. Legitimate independent lots have to deal with people like this, too. That segment has to be pretty sleazy, but even for “established” new-car dealers, if Edmunds.com story of “Confessions of a Car Salesman” is any indication. There is so much money involved and the stakes are high, not only for the seller, but for the buyer as well.
Gypsies? Yeah, the local evening news used to warn viewers whenever they would pass through town and what precautions to take. Sadly, they have a less-than-stellar reputation because of that. Cher was right (mostly).
Do all TTAC columnists work for lots like this? I guess one has to earn a living. Living dangerously, though.
This isn’t par for the course Zackman. When the lot is running smoothly, which is most of the time, I spend my time buying vehicles, operating other businesses, writing at TTAC, and enjoying my life. The car lot is usually a fairly small part of my day.
What I’m writing about in this article is essentially what can happen in any business. Small, large, well-established, new…there is always a bad hire at some point along with a customer who is trying to defraud you.
As for the bottom of the barrel. I have…
100% Positive Ebay Feedback after more than 8 years of selling there.
My repo rate for my finance customers is less than 10%. In an industry where the average is well over 30%.
As for ‘just selling cars’ you may want to look at this…
https://www.thetruthaboutcars.com/2009/12/hammer-time-behind-the-gavel/
this…
https://www.thetruthaboutcars.com/2009/05/hammer-time-wrestling-with-shadows/
and this…
https://www.thetruthaboutcars.com/2009/02/hammer-time-forays-into-finance/
I try to be more like George Bailey and less like Mr. Potter. It’s not an easy road and there are days when I ALMOST wish I had simply focused on auctioneering.
But I help a LOT of people doing this. It’s hard to regret any job where you know you make a genuine difference in people’s lives.
Steve;
Thanks for the reply. I meant you when I wrote “legitimate independent lots”. I know from reading and thoroughly enjoying TTAC that you are “above board”!
There’s no way I’d intentionally slam anyone on this or any other site, if I belonged to one. This place sure is fun to hang out in!
Thanks for the entertaining read, Steven. I look forward to the next.