THE R.E.P.O. ELF

In the local repossession industry, I have a well-earned reputation for recovering financed property based on an agreed upon, uncomplicated fee schedule plus expenses. I advertise myself as The Repo Elf and my motto is “Day or night, I make it right.” Sort of catchy I thought, and, after all, it's printed right there on my business card which makes it official. Some may laugh, but I have five strategically located billboards around New Hanover, Pender, Onslow and Brunswick counties on major highways showing me, dressed in all black, leaning against a 1972 Chevrolet Chevelle SS 454 with the cowl induction hood and I am in the yellow pages for all to see under Property-Repossessions, Legal-Repossessions and Help – Repossessions. Maybe more than some laugh, but I am quite busy and happy in my business. I find it interesting and always an adventure for each case. As I rested on the cold, wet, hard ground in Wrightsville Beach, it came to me that I needed to learn how to make better decisions. I mean – “Really! Here I am flat on my back with my nose bleeding, blood pouring from a deep cut on my head, absent my right shoe, my shirt ruffled and torn with three buttons missing and my belt buckle twisted and boogered up. Nothing like having a car roll over me to bring complete, singular clarity to my seemingly demented thought processes.” Now, in March of 1979, I was in the midst of plying my trade for Wachovia Bank when a sequence of events were set in motion by the untimely light which appeared on the second floor of the Best Chance motel, followed by the loud bang of a door being thrown open. It was 2:00 a.m. and I was down in the parking lot about to enter a 1978 Ford Mustang Mach 1, King Cobra with a 302 cubic inch V-8 engine and standard rear spoiler that had been refitted with a suspension lift kit in the rear that raised the car an extra four inches to allow for custom fitted glass pack mufflers with straight line dual exhaust. The lift kit bothered me as I pondered if the car could be towed from the rear by a tow truck, but I figured I could drive the car over to my office and park it on the opposite side from the motel. I had a makeshift shed on that side and my plan was to pull a tarp over the car to hide it. I thought, “Quick, simple and easy stuff this time.” My luck was holding out lately. I mean, after all, I had a repossession right here in my own back yard. “What are the chances?” I thought, “I am going to have to get to Las Vegas soon.” Anyway, the car owner, George Harvey Monroe, was married, and he and his wife worked opposite shifts at their jobs. He was delinquent six months on his monthly payments, and I was there to repossess the car for return to the bank. I had been after this guy for two months, but he was slick, and this was the first time I had a clean opportunity to take the car. My plan was to wait for him and his date (who I had learned was the formerly luscious Miss Hyde County of 1971) to get all warm and cuddly and then, with a duplicate key from the dealership in my pocket, I would swoop in and drive off in his car. I figured I would need only 5-10 minutes to wait for the two lovebirds to consummate their desire for each other, so I had plenty of time. That plus their moans and groans should help mask my activities with the car. “A fool-proof plan” I thought. Right up until the door flew open and there, they both came down the motel steps yelling and screaming at each other about who was responsible for the “intimacy protection” as she put it and the” rubber” as he blurted out. Thank goodness they were both still dressing as they approached his car. Being stunned by the whole turn of events and her partially nude body, I was somewhat slow to react. The thought ran through my head, “Could this be the former beauty pageant winner. My goodness, they grew them oversized a few counties over.” My hesitation caused me to dally just enough to seek a hiding place by dropping to the ground and sliding under the car on the driver’s side while they approached from the other side. Fortunately for me they were both so loud they did not hear my grunt as I positioned myself under the car. I read some time ago that the human mind processes thoughts in brief parts of seconds called nano seconds. Must be true because I was processing hundreds of thoughts as I lay under the car. My thoughts came to me in a random rapid-fire order. “How long are they going to sit here? How much do they both weigh? Is it possible for a person to shrink when lying on their back? How far will I be dragged if they drive off? Will they stop and help me? Can I suck in my stomach enough? What will people think? Will I be able to walk again?” Then the engine fired up and not only could I hear the gear shift move into first gear, but I could also see the linkage move above my face. Strangely, my thoughts became more rapid and even more random. Then, horror of horrors, the guy dropped the clutch (which I could also see from my vantage point) and gunned the car away. Of course, the car skewed sideways over me and disappeared.