Some industries deserve regulation

By RON BROCHU

The best way to make a buck in Duluth is to launch a company that uses law enforcement to generate business and strong arm customers.

Say what? How can that be?


Here and in many other areas, these perks are enjoyed by those in the towing/impound biz, a largely unregulated trade that allows some operators to rip off the public while cops turn their back.


Several versions of the game are played every day. One of them involves an expensive shakedown of drivers who park in snow removal zones. It happens like this.


For one reason or another, some folks park in zones marked for snow removal, even though the operation is advertised (in publications they never read) and “no parking” signs are posted. They probably could have avoided a tow.


Later, they find their vehicle missing, then call or visit police. That’s when they discover the equivalent of a ransom scheme. To get their car back, they first need to get release documents from police. But after hoofing it to PD, people learn the release tag can only be provided if they present proof of insurance.


Authorities, of course, urge people to keep proof of insurance in their glove box. So, without their car, parking violators must hoof it to a bus or an impound lot, meet with the owner, remove the insurance card from their car, then tread back to Police HQ.


Impound lots, by the way, aren’t located in spiffy areas. Expect to walk down an alley in an unkempt part of town.


The second trip to impound is the most depressing. It’s when you learn the high cost of lodging an automobile. A few hours behind a chain link fence can cost more than a weekend at the Radisson. If you leave your car there for a day or two, better dig into your Christmas Club account or be prepared to forfeit your title.


Don’t expect to see a rate card conspicuously posted. A sympathetic lot owner might give you a break, but a grump might burn your butt just for the sport of it. Best bet: avoid an argument and don’t flaunt your Rolex.


The game can also go like this. You’re in a collision, and the car is disabled. If it’s blocking traffic, emergency dispatchers will call the first tow truck available, despite the operator’s reputation. If you have a preference or auto club membership, forget it.


I played this game nearly two years ago. My auto was towed to a locked outdoor facility, where an adjuster declared it a total loss. When retrieving personal belongings, several things were missing, including a $200 sleeping bag, FM transmitter and an antique religious pendant. In a subsequent phone call, the tow operator denied anything was missing and loudly slammed the received into his phone cradle.


Then came the lesson about the relationship between police and the tow business. After reporting the missing items to authorities, I was told that anybody could have climbed the impound lot’s fence, and I’d need an eyewitness to identify who burglarized my vehicle. It’s “a civil matter” and authorities wouldn’t do anything, they said, washing their hands of the situation. My only recourse was a small claims suit. Although the impound yard was in Duluth, the operator resided in another state. Any lawsuit would have required me to take time off from work to plead my case before the defendant’s home town judge for a fee of about $80. The odds stunk.


Having an acquaintance in the tow business proved informative. I learned some companies immediately inventory vehicle contents and place them under lock and key.


That’s not required, however. Only top operators go the distance for their customers.


I also learned that nearby communities did very little business with the driver who towed my vehicle. After receiving numerous complaints about missing possessions, they moved his name to the bottom of their call list, a local police chief told me.
But not in Duluth, which (incorrectly) views itself as progressive. It seemed logical, therefore, to address the situation. So I contacted city councilors about the need for regulation. All of them responded to my letter, some even expressing sympathy, but my plea fell from their memory quicker than Gary Doty’s lame administration.


Police Chief Gordon Ramsey referred the matter to an assistant chief, who was to contact me within a few days. It never happened.


The situation is even worse in rural areas, a distressed motorist told me several months later. His pick-up broke down and was towed in rural northwestern Wisconsin, even though he left a note on the windshield saying he’d return within minutes. He claimed it was driven off the state road, yet it was towed and he was forced to pay several hundred bucks to get it back.


This individual alleged the tow operator was paying a kickback to his county sheriff, but it was impossible to prove. Similar arrangements, however, are common in the car repair business. While investigating a franchise opportunity a few years back, the franchisor’s representative taught me the value of working with tow truck drivers. When picking up a dead car, they “highly recommend” your shop, and convince the distraught motorist it’s the best place to fix their vehicle. In turn, the shop pays the truck driver an instant stipend. A nice cash deal.


There are many honest operators in the tow business, but high ethics aren’t universal. Until city councilors tackle the problem (don’t hold your breath), motorists would be wise to ask where their vehicle will be stored, at what cost and whether their possessions will be kept under lock and key. If not, make a big fuss and demand responders contact another tow. State your concerns and hold your ground.


It worked for me recently when the same tow that “lost” my possessions was sent to an accident involving a relative. I voiced my concerns and the traffic officer sent him packing when my AAA truck arrived.


Author Ron Brochu archives his articles at www.ronbrochublog.com, which is linked to several local and regional political blogs.


Published in the Feb. 13, 2009 Northland Reader