Repo(Darrell Case) Logan James Yocum hated his job as the repo man for Tucson Motors. He felt bad taking people’s only form of transportation. He hated repos, the sneaking around at night, he felt like a car thief. Yet for every vehicle he retrieved he earned a good income plus bonuses and Logan needed the money.

It was love at first sight. As soon as he saw the wrecker on Tucson’s lot, he knew he had to have it. Fire engine red with white trim. Only ten years old. The inside almost made him swoon. Real leather with a CB radio, a police scanner, and the coolest of all a switch that turned the truck into a Christmas tree. Well not a real tree but all the lights blazing reminded him of a Christmas celebration. Harry could just envision the name of his business painted in gold letters on the doors.

Yocum Towing

Our business to make you happy

Logan detailed vehicles for Tucson and had more ambition than money. He prided himself on the speed he turned out a vehicle. But with the wrecker he took his time. After detailing the wrecker, he took a short break. Setting at the table drinking his soda he dreamed of driving down the interstate on his way to help a stranded motorist. It was night and all his lights were blazing. He would be the hero coming to their rescue. Finishing his coke, he came out of the shop and stopped dead still. Gary Hass, one of salesman, was showing off the truck. His truck. Logan almost cried when the guy drove off the lot with Hess bouncing along in the passenger seat.

When they returned Logan was half heartily detailing a black Toyota. As they climbed out of the truck Logan edged closer. “You’re asking too much.” He heard the man say.

“You gotta admit it’s a fine truck.” Gary said. “Well worth the price.”

“For a couple thousand more I can buy one a year newer.” The man said.

They moved away in the direction of the showroom their voices fading. An hour later the dealership closed. Logan didn’t sleep much that night. Each time he closed his eyes he saw the truck. Around 3 AM he drifted off and his dream turned quickly into a nightmare. He was driving the wreaker westbound on I75 passing awe-stricken drivers all the lights on the truck blazing. Out of nowhere a man appeared running alongside the truck. Suddenly Logan was standing beside the interstate watching the man drive off with his truck.

Later that morning he waited outside Scott Tucson’s office. “Why aren’t you out back detailing?” Scott asks frowning.

Logan swallowed. “I… I wanted to talk to you about the wrecker.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Scott demanded.

“No… nothing I want to buy it.”

“You. It’d take more than you got to buy that truck.” Scott said, turning, he unlocked the door to his office.

“I have the money for a down payment.” Logan said pulling a wad of bills out of his pocket.

Now Scott had many loves in his life. His wife, his daughter, his dealership, but his greatest love was money. In selling the truck to Logan he saw an opportunity to make more and solve a problem at the same time.

His repo man had quit because of Scott’s deceptive practice. No other towing service would work for him. He cut their invoices short paying what he pleased. As often as he thought he could get away with it Scott sold the same vehicle several times. If you missed or even delayed a payment by as much as two weeks Scott repossessed your car. He then assigned it to Logan to cleanup and sold it again keeping your down payment and any payment you made up to that point. Some cars had been sold as much as five times.

“Tell you what.” Scott said, scamming in his mind. “You keep up you’re detailing while you build your business and I throw some repo work for you.”

“Really, you mean it.” Logan said grinning foolishly.

“Sure, we’ll help each other out.” Scott said smiling. “Come on in and we’ll fill out the paperwork.”

Logan reasoned if people paid their bills, he wouldn’t have to take their cars. Sometimes he heard they couldn’t keep up because of medical expenses. And one time he heard of an old guy that died because he couldn’t get to the emergency room. The man lived alone, and Harry had repoed his car the week before. That time he almost quit. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the old guy pleading with him not to take his car. From then on, Logan did his repoing at night.

Repoing wasn’t Logan’s only source of income. He hauled wracks to the junkyard. Cars parked in loading zones and those broke down on the highway. People were always happy to see him when they had mechanical failures. He carried cold drinks with him in the summer and gave them to his customers for free. A tender-hearted man, Logan tried to make a bad experience better.

One afternoon in June, Scott Tucson called. Logan just finished hauling a 2005 Jeep into Petersons body shop. The owner had tried to ford a swollen creek with it. Halfway across the rushing stream picked up the jeep and slammed it into a tree. The man’s wife and kids screamed so loud the poor guy would have trouble hearing for a week. Relaxing in his truck with an ice-cold soda and the local rock station on high, Logan barely heard his cellphone ring.

As soon as he heard Scott’s voice, he cringed.

“Logan old pal, I got a job for you. You up to repoing a car?” Scott said in his smoother than oil voice. When Scott spoke like that it was going to be a bad one. Logan swallowed his pride. He needed the money and Scott for all his bad equities would pay some.

“Sure- yeah, I guess so. What ye got in mind?

“Lady came in a few weeks ago. Frisky old gal. Paid cash for the down payment. She’s late on her monthly payment.” What Scott didn’t say was the payment was only two days late. Also, he had a buyer for the car that would pay him five hundred more than what he received from Maude Knight. With this and Maude’s down payment, it would a good payday. Scott had been hauled into court two times for this behavior and venerated both times. Of course, it helped the judge was his brother-in-law. One of his salesmen told Scott there were rumors Maude protected her property with a 12.ga. He didn’t feel it necessary to inform Logan of this fact. “You just slip in there tonight after she’s asleep and hook her up. Just drop the car in the usual place on the south edge of the lot.“

After receiving the required information, Logan finished his coke. He set back thinking about the old woman. He had done this before. If he was quiet, he could locate the car, backup, do a quick hook up and with any luck have it down the road before she knew what was happening. With his pen light, the only light and the only sound the clinking of the chains. Once he was out of sight, he could stop and hook it up properly.

Logan went to bed nervous. He set the alarm for 2AM and forgot to hit the button. He couldn’t get comfortable. He tossed and turned trying one position then another. Finally, he fell into a troubled sleep. Something woke him. He turned his head and stared at the clock. 4AM. Jumping out of bed, he threw on his clothes. Even if he hurried, it would be five before he reached the Knight place. Good thing he lived alone. No wife, no kids to wake up and start complaining.

He found the farm on the first try. Located way back almost to the river on a network of gravel roads. A ramshackle house and falling down barn. He recognized the car from Scott’s description. Setting on the north of the barn, between it and the house. In the half light of dawn, he could see the windows of the house were open. He had worked on the motor of the wrecker to make it quieter. There were of course limitations. The engine hummed as he backed up to the car. So far, so good. No movement in the house, no lights. He stored the chains in cloth bags to minimize the clinking. He crawled under the front bumper and hooked the chains. he would stop down the road and fasten it properly. Pulling himself out, he stood to his feet and breathed a sigh of relief. 200 feet and he was home free.

The explosion almost gave him a heart attack. Buckshot buzzed by, his ear bouncing off the boom of the wrecker. Logan almost peed his pants. Dropping to the ground, he peeked under his truck. Maude stood just outside her back door, her legs spread, wearing her nightgown. In her hands was a highly polished shotgun. Her gray hair array, she pumped in another shell. Logan scurried to the front of the wrecker. The next shot took out the back glass. Logan had a pistol in the glove compartment. It wasn’t loaded and Logan had never shot it.

“Steal my car will you, you burglar. Try it and I’ll fill your britches full of lead.” She let loose with another round, the pellets ricocheting off the top of the cab, taking out the driver’s side mirror. Logan was not a praying man. When he was ten, he attended the local Baptist church’s vacation Bible school. Their teaching didn’t stick, and he never went back. Logan prayed now. “Oh Lord, help me.” He wasn’t sure if God heard him, but Maude did.

“You better pray you sucker. I’m gonna put so many holes in ye you’ll look like swiss cheese.” She screamed. She let loose with a laugh Logan was sure came from the depths of hell.

“That aint no woman that’s a demon.” Logan murmured to himself. Maude fired again knocking off more paint. One pellet found its way into the lobe of Logan’s ear. He screamed and grabbed the side of his head.

“Got ye. Now you stay right there. I’m out of bullets, but I got some more right here in the kitchen.”

Logan had no intention of waiting. This woman meant to kill him. Charging around the truck, he jerked open the driver’s side door. Jumping up behind the wheel, he jammed the idling truck in gear. Maude came out the back door, shoving fresh loads in her shotgun. “Oh, Lord, here she comes again.” Logan said, tearing up. Blood streamed down his face, dripping on his shoulder. He slammed the pedal to the floor. The truck whined. Logan hit the gravel road, doing 20 and climbing. He stood on the gas pedal. Behind him, the car whipped around like a drunken man. It took out her mailbox. The box flew like a missile almost hitting a sleeping cow. That started the stampede. Stopped by the fence, the cattle stared at the retreating wrecker. With the impact to the mailbox, one of the chains came loose. Maude ran into the road. She leveled the shotgun. Pellets bounced off the car.

With only one chain holding it, the car followed the wrecker catty cornered. If he had met another car, Logan was sure he would have wiped them out. Five miles down the road, he pulled to a stop.

He climbed down from the cab breathing heavy as if he had run all the way from Maude’s place. His hands shook like he had the palsy. It took him several minutes to calm down setting in the grass at the side of the road.

Finally, when his breathing had returned to normal, and he bandaged his ear the best he could, he checked the rest of his body for holes. Finding none other than the one in his ear, he crawled under the car and reattached the dragging chain. While under there, he heard something coming. Blinded by the rising sun, he didn’t recognize the person on the tractor. Squinting, he shuttled. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Steering her tractor with one hand and waving the shotgun in the air with the other, Maude topped the small rise a quarter of a mile down the road. The John Deere was in high gear and coming fast. Logan scrambled out from under the car. Seeing her quarry, Maude leveled the 12.Ga. Pellets kicked up dust five feet back of the car. They bounced off the ground and hit Logan in the rear end. This time he did pee his pants. Not that Logan noticed. He screamed, he danced, but most of all he dashed to the door of the wrecker. Standing to her feet, Maude fired a second time. The recoil of the shotgun almost knocked her backward off the tractor. The buckshot sailed by the left side of the truck, causing no harm. Logan, his heart pumping 90 miles an hour. His breathing shallow, jumped into the driver’s seat and jammed the gearshift into low. The truck creeped forward. He shifted in the seat to ease the pain.

“Come on, come on.” Logan muttered, tears streaming down his cheeks. His rear end hurt. his ear hurt. He was convinced this she devil mean to kill him. The truck gathered speed. Not fast enough. the front tires of the tractor hit the rear bumper of the car, almost flipping the John Deere. The front tires of the tractor rode up on to the trunk, crushing it. Maude screamed out in laughter. To Logan, it sounded like the screech of a banshee.

Somehow, Maude was able even with the bouncing of the John Deere to get off a shot. The pellets tore a hole in the dash on the passenger side of the truck. Logan screamed like a frightened little girl. He jammed the gearshift into second then third pulling away from his tormentor.

He glanced in the rearview mirror: the tractor had come to a stop at the side of the road. Maude stood waving the shotgun in one hand, shaking the fist of her other hand at the departing wrecker.

“I’ll get you Logan Yocum if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get you.” She shouted, her voice floating over the roar of the motor. Rivulets of sweat ran down Logan’s back. He knew this old demon woman meant every word.

Dragging the battered car through the streets, Logan dropped in the far corner of the back lot. He knew Scott would go looking for it first thing. The man would have a fit. He didn’t care. At home, he parked the wrecker in the driveway. Walking around it, he inspected the damage. Maude sure did a number on the truck. His ear would heal, his rear end still stung, but the truck was another matter. If he turned it in to his insurance, his rates would go through the roof.

He thought of covering the back window. he looked at the sky. It didn’t look like rain. In the house he threw the keys on the dresser and fell into bed fully clothed. He woke to a roar out in the street. He had visions of Maude ramming the John Deere into his truck. And when she finished with it, then she would start on the house. He could just see himself running down the street with that old woman on her tractor in hot pursuit. Dread almost stopping his heart, he pushed up on his elbows and listened. With trepidation, he stepped to the window. Not finding his weekly contribution, the garbage truck moved on down the block. So caught up, he forgot this was garbage day. By this time, they came next week, the bags would be filled with worms. He thought of running after them but didn’t have the energy. He dropped back in bed.

He woke an hour later to the ringing of his cell phone. He cringed when he saw the caller ID. He hit the button. Holding it to his ear with two fingers as if it had a disease, he said. “Hello.”

This was the last word he spoke for a full two minutes. During which Scott cursed using every word Logan heard before and some he didn’t know the meaning of. He finished with, “And so what do you expect me to do with this piece of junk?”

Logan had a thought of telling Scott to place it on his front lawn and plant flowers in it. He didn’t. if he had Scott would have come through the phone at him.

“She shot at me.” Was all he could think to say.

“Oh, grow up, she shoots at everybody.” Scott said.

“You didn’t tell me that. She shot up my truck. It's gonna cost over three thousand to fix it.” Logan said, thinking of how nice the wrecker looked yesterday after its bath. He felt like crying.

“Well, don’t expect me to fix it. I got my own problems repairing this car. You’re lucky I don’t bill you for the damage.”

"What about my fee?” Logan whined, sounding like a kid who just dropped his ice cream cone on the ground.

“We’ll use that to help pay for the damages on the car.” The phone clicked to silence. Logan had a fleeing thought of suing Scott. The case would of course be heard before his brother-in-law. His body aching, Harry lumbered through the kitchen and out the back door. He walked around the wrecker, surveying the damage. Paint was clipped in a dozen places. The boom had taken a full blast. The back glass shattered, hanging by a few dangling pieces, the rearview mirror on the driver’s side blown apart, a large hole in the dash. The wrecker still functioned, but its beauty mired. He drove it down to Petersons. Tom Peterson inspected the truck with a clipboard in his hand.

He whistled. “Let me guess, you had a run in with Maude Knight.” Logan stared at Tom.

Tom laughed. “You’re not the first. Years ago, fellow down at the bank tried to foreclose on her. They sent letter after letter with no response. He went out there one night. She came out the back while he was knocking on the front. Had that pump-action shotgun, blew out every window in his car. Mercedes, I think it was. Anyway, when she finished with the car, she came looking for him. By that time, he was a half mile down the road and moving fast.”

“What about the guy’s car?” Logan wanted to know.

“Found it in the parking lot of the bank the next day.” Tom said laughing. “Guy checked it over. Got in, drove off, and hasn’t been seen since. And wouldn’t you know it, a check for the full amount she owed showed up at the bank same day.”

“Why don’t the law do anything about her?“ Logan asks, sipping a cold coke from his cooler. Tom leaned close. “Could be because of his brother-in-law. Scott doesn’t want the law looking too close at his business”

“Oh yeah. So he sends me out to Maud, knowing the law won’t do anything?”

“That’s the reason Scott got you to go out there. Maud is a terror.”

“Well, from now on he can pick up his own cars.” Logan said. “Let me know when it’s ready.”

“Yup will do.” Tom said.

A few days later, Logan picked up the wrecker. In his driveway he walked around looking at it. For the life of him, he couldn’t see where Maud’s buckshot hit. Tom and his crew did a wonderful job of repairing the truck.

Logan only had one call to pick up a disabled car carrying it to a repair shop. He checked the engine for damage, something he should have done before, and found none.

He charged his cellphone and waited for it to ring.

That night after watching TV Logan became bored with the mind-numbing programming. He went to bed.

The call came at 12:28 AM. Shaking off a sound sleep; he answered groggily. "Yocum Towing.”

“Mr. Yocum, this is Chief Barnhart with the Fairview fire department. We have a situation on highway 67. A car is hanging over the cliff. we have it anchored with the fire truck but we can’t pull it up and I’m afraid it may not hold.”

“I’ll be right there.” Logan said, throwing on his clothes. “Where is it located?”

Three mil…” he went away “See if you can put another chain on the other side.” The chief came back on the line. “Three miles out of Fairview. Please hurry Mr. Yocum, we may not be able to hold her much longer.”

Running out to the truck, Logan fired up the engine. Jammed it in gear and backed out of the driveway. A state police car whipped around in front of him. Sticking his arm out the window, the officer gestured Logan to follow. They passed the city limits sign doing 80; the troop cranked it up to 85. Together they flew through the night.

Within minutes, they came upon the scene. Another police car and ambulance and two fire trucks bathed the area with flashing red and blue lights.

A blue and gray Cadillac hung treacherously over the edge of a precipice. A man in a white helmet motioned to Logan as he backed up beside the fire truck.

“Glad you’re here. We have got it stabilized, but we were afraid to pull it up in case the hill gives way.“

“We need to anchor the cable to the frame.” Logan shouted over the roar of the engines.

“We can do that. Mike, see if you can attach Mr. Yocum’s cable.” Chief Barnhart said.

The man named Mike grabbed the hook in his gloved hand. Then attaching a rope to a harness he wore he scrambled down the cliff. Logan lowered the footers to keep the truck from slipping.

“Thought we were going to lose them.” Barnhart said.

“Them?” Logan said, straightening up.

“Yeah, man wife and two kids. Been there for hours. Hadn’t been for the trooper over there, we might not a found them till daylight.”

Mike climbed back up the hill. “Ok, I think we’re ready.” He said. Logan pushed the lever to bring the car back from the point of death. The car caught on a rock then jarred loose. he slowed the winch down to a crawl. Logan heard a woman scream and kids crying. It wasn’t until the Cadillac set in the middle of the highway Logan recognized Scott’s car. On solid ground, the family exited the Cadillac and walked to the ambulance.

At the hospital Scott and his family checked out ok. All they suffered was a little bruising from the seatbelts. Logan towed the car to Scott’s lot. The body shop buffed out the scratches. Logan received a check from Scott’s insurance company and a card thanking him from Mrs. Scott for saving their lives.

Logan still does towing, no repos. His reputation is growing as an honest man who knows his business. One afternoon he met Maud Knight at the local Kroger. She said she was sorry for shooting at him. He accepted her apology, and they became friends. Not close friends, but friends nevertheless.

They said his falling asleep at the wheel and almost dying changed Scott. Maybe. But I’m not buying a used car from that man. Would you?

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