ST. LOUIS, Mo. — The tow-truck driver rolls north on Lindbergh Boulevard, a cell phone to each ear, an elbow on the steering wheel, his head on a swivel.
On this night, he's headed for the Hazelwood apartment of a woman who is $964 behind on payments for her 2004 Mitsubishi Galant.
He scans the passing strip malls, parking lots and traffic looking for any of the other 211 vehicles on his list. Just tonight, he was handed names of seven new people who had property that lenders wanted seized.
Bad times are busy times for the repo man.
"I feel sorry for people, but that car on the back feeds my family," he said.
Statistics show the faltering economy is indeed feeding a steady rise in repossessions.
Last year, 1.67 million autos were repossessed nationwide, up 12 percent from 2007. But tighter lending standards, especially in the subprime market, are expected to lead to a drop in the demand for repossessions in coming months.
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Several repo men said the economic downturn is changing the business. Repossessions are cutting across economic lines from the poorest neighborhoods to suburban spreads with multicar garages, and repo men are repossessing more often in some of the priciest ZIP codes.
"I've had people say, 'I'd rather lose the car than the house,' " said Gary Moore, who has operated his University City tow business for five years.
They find more cars now at body shops and garages where owners abandon them because they can't afford repair bills. They find fewer people living at the address listed on their loans. It appears that many have lost their homes in foreclosure or can't afford the rent.
Jason Grisham has been towing for 17 years. Like many in his line of work, he seeks to avoid confrontations when he takes a car. Unfortunately, he finds far more people at home than he used to.
"If they're not there, you have no problem," Grisham said. "Now, they can't afford to go anywhere."
Some people seem less willing to voluntarily give up their car. Instead, they play a cat-and-mouse game where they park a few blocks from home, leave the car with a relative or block it with another vehicle to keep it from being towed.
But the repo man headed toward Hazelwood is patient. He has been chasing some vehicles on his list for more than a year.
"They have to be on their game all the time," he said of those who try to avoid him. "We only have to be right once."
On this night, he's lucky.
He pulls into a dark parking lot, and his expert eye spots the front of the maroon Mitsubishi backed into a parking spot, just visible under inches of snow. Like a wisp of smoke, he slips out of the truck, careful not to let the door slam. He shines his flashlight just long enough to read the vehicle identification number. No one stirs in any of the nearby apartments. Within seconds, he and the car are gone.
He'll pick up six more on this night.
Repossession usually occurs after a borrower is several months in default, and there's little expectation of recouping payment. The repo man in Hazelwood earns $65 for most tows, but can get paid more than $300 depending on the lender's desperation to recover the vehicle.
"It's not personal," he says with his ever-present smile and a short, friendly cackle that ends many sentences. "It's just business."
And business means keeping a low profile, he said. He canvassed several neighborhoods before buying a home to avoid living in an area he frequently works. When his family goes out for dinner and a movie, they travel several miles to avoid running in to people whose cars he might have repossessed.
He has towed the cars of autoworkers laid off from area assembly plants and expects any day to start getting notices for local employees of Home Depot and Circuit City, two other large local employers that recently announced layoffs.
Business may be booming, but that doesn't mean it's easy.
The repo man said he has been shot at once and struck with a bat, but that most people seem embarrassed and don't want confrontation. Those who do complain may be angry at first, but eventually they realize he's just doing his job.
"They just want their car," he said.
He tries to be apologetic. He tries to treat people with dignity. But he has never been talked out of a tow.
Still, he is not immune to the suffering.
After repossessing one woman's car, he drove her to work. And at the end of the day, he picked her up and drove her home. It was the least he could do, he said.
"I know times are hard."
"I've had people say, 'I'd rather lose the car than the house.' "
Gary Moore,
who has operated his University City tow business for five years.