Repos Up Amid Downturn in KS

Here's the story from the Lawrence Journal-World:

The rumble of the diesel engine is constant.

That steady growl from Bryan Sorenson’s Ford dually pickup is probably what raised the red flags at this home near the eastern edge of Lawrence.

Something did.

When Sorenson started to ease his specially equipped pickup truck into the short driveway, the light of a television shone through the home’s picture window. By the time Sorenson got the truck in park, it was off.

Evidently, this fellow knows the repo man cometh. Evidently, though, he doesn’t know the repo man can see through the picture window.

“The guy is laying right there on the floor,” Sorenson, an owner of Lawrence-based Lighthouse Investigations and Recovery, said as he came back to the truck after failing to get anyone to answer the door. “I mean, he’s awake and everything. He’s just laying there on the floor, hiding.”

“Well, that’s about childish,” said Debbie Sorenson, Bryan’s wife and business partner.

Ah, children and delinquent debtors — you never know what you’re going to get.

•••

Sometimes it is easier than this.

Debbie remembers a recent “run” that she made to “hook” a minivan. When it became obvious that the van wasn’t in a spot where it could easily be hooked up to the company’s special tow truck, she went to the home’s front door to see if she could talk the owners into voluntarily surrendering the car.

“A woman answered the door and she said it was her ex-husband’s,” Debbie said. “She said, ‘You can have it.’”

But the majority of the nearly 800 vehicles Lighthouse repossesses each year — the company generally does repossession work throughout eastern Kansas and into Missouri — fall somewhere in between the just-take-it category and the let-me-lie-on-the-floor-and-become-invisible category.

“About 50 percent of the time we just get it and go,” Bryan said.

And when he says go, he means go quickly.

“We have a guy who can have a car hooked up and rolling in 20 seconds,” Bryan said.

The average time is about 45 seconds. A specialized towing system allows the speed. The company’s large Ford extended-cab pickup trucks have a system called “Sneeker” lifts that are hidden underneath the trucks’ chassis. The system uses a night-vision camera attached to the bumper. That allows the driver of the truck to operate from inside the cab two arms that slide out from underneath the truck and hook around the front or rear wheels of the vehicle.

Other times, Bryan simply cuts a key for the vehicle, using a code provided by the finance company. He can even cut the keys that require a special computer chip.

But sometimes, even quick isn’t quick enough.

About 50 percent of the time, Lighthouse crews end up having to make contact with the owner of the vehicle. Bryan said what ensues usually isn’t the high drama that is portrayed on some popular cable television programs that detail the repo business. But sometimes it is dicey.

“There will be some who want to come out and fight you,” Bryan said.

Unfortunately, he said, his drivers have had both knives and guns pulled on them, although the number of such incidents could be counted on one hand. Once, a driver had to mace an aggressive pit bull that an owner of a vehicle wouldn’t control.

Almost always, there’s an uneasiness that hangs in the air.

“You have to watch your surroundings,” Debbie said. “If somebody is hooking, you had better be watching his back. You can’t trust anyone. You have to assume everybody is there to deceive you.”

•••

Back at the eastern edge of Lawrence, a white KU ball cap pops over the picture window ledge. It promptly ducks back down after the head inside the cap sees the repo truck parked on the street.

This little scene — white hat here, white hat gone — goes on for several minutes.

In the meantime, Bryan has called the Lawrence Police Department for a “citizen assist.” The police have no legal ability to make the person inside the home open the door. A repossession case is not a criminal matter. Rather, it is a civil matter between the vehicle owner and the finance company.

Most repossession matters never show up in a court file anywhere. Instead, the process gets started with a delinquent notice to the owner, and then usually a fax from the finance company to Bryan telling him to pick up a specific vehicle. It is that fax that gives Bryan the legal ability to pick up the car — as long as he doesn’t break other laws in the process. No special license is needed to be a repo man. But the faxed repossession order is important. Without it, Bryan is just a car thief with a fancy truck.

Bryan has called the police officer in hopes that if an officer knocks on the door, the person inside will answer. As the officer arrives, it becomes obvious that Mr. White Hat has grown restless.

Or, maybe, just bored.

The light of a television now shines through an upstairs window. (Hey, it’s Sunday night. There might still be a game on.) The officer directs his flashlight beam to the upper window. The television goes off.

All this over a 2003 Kia, which Bryan assumes is behind the closed garage door.

“This is pretty crazy,” Debbie says. “A grown man hiding in his own house.”

Some may say pretty sad.

•••

Photo by Nick Krug

Repo man Bryan Sorenson prepares to unchain a vehicle repossessed from a Topeka owner Monday. During the recession, business has been up as it becomes harder for people to pay.

There’s a lot of sadness to be seen these days in the repo business.

Since the beginning of bank notes, there always have been people who have had the size of their car outpace the size of their wallet.

“In the six years I’ve done this, I’ve never been without a car to find,” Bryan said.

But there’s been a definite difference since this economic downturn began. Reliable national estimates on the number of repossessions can be difficult to find, but some reports for the National Automotive Finance Association have estimated that repossessions since 2005 have been rising by about 15 percent per year. Other indicators suggest even more.

Bryan said his business is way up. In the early years of his business, Bryan said his company would do 200 to 300 repossessions per year. Now, it does between 600 and 800, he said. Part of the increase is due to his business becoming more established. But part of it is just because more and more people can’t pay. And that has created more and more desperation.

“I probably have more people who will try to do whatever they can do to keep their car rather than just do the right thing and give their car up,” said Bryan, who said some have even begun switching cars with friends in hopes that will throw the repo man off.

And it is not just cars that people are falling behind on. It is not unusual for Bryan’s company to do repossessions of motorcycles, boats, RVs and, occasionally, even lawn tractors.

“They make loans for those too,” Bryan said.

But cars and trucks are by far the most common. And there’s one vehicle that may be the toughest emotionally — the kind with a car seat in it.

“We’ll get ones that are for single moms with two or three kids at home, and she’s trying to work to keep her head above water, but I still get a repossession order to pick up her car,” said Bryan, who worked at Lawrence’s Hallmark plant before getting into this business. “It sometimes is emotional to pick that car up not knowing how she is going to get to work or how the kids are going to get to school.

“But then there are others who are so aggressive and obviously have a job and could pay for the car, but just won’t. So they kind of offset each other.”

And at the end of the day, this isn’t a job that allows for much sappy sentimentality. Not if you want to get the car, anyway.

Bryan tells one story about a recent repossession in Junction City. It was a single mom with three kids who was constantly late on the bill. Sitting outside her apartment, he saw the upstairs light go on as she went to put her children to bed.

Bryan’s repo mind thought one thing: “It’s a perfect time to get this car. There was a lady across the aisle that was watching it, and as soon as she figured out what was going on, she ran to get the lady.

“Too late. We were gone.”

•••

Back at the eastern edge of Lawrence, there’s a new development — a car pulls up to the house.

No, not the 2003 Kia. It won’t be that type of night.

“Oh my gosh, a delivery driver,” Debbie says like an engrossed fan of a soap opera.

Maybe pizza to go with the show?

Not quite. No delivery driver. Just a girlfriend or a wife. Still, maybe it could be a break. Maybe she could get Mr. White Hat to come out. Instead, she says she’s not sure anyone is even home. Bryan and the police officer tell her that they are confident someone is. They convince her to go into the house and come back out with a report.

There’s some waiting.

“He’s got his house for sale,” Bryan says matter of fact. “It doesn’t sound like he’s working right now.”

The woman comes back. Nope. He’s not here. Nobody’s home.

Perhaps the repo man’s eyes played a trick on him. Perhaps not. More likely, the trick in this story is yet to come. There’s a saying Bryan has.

“Sooner or later, we will ultimately get our car — whether it is willing or not.”