I’ll start with the other night. This is something that I did out of desperation and necessity. With my Ironman being so expensive for travel, logistics, coaching, food, and all other expenses, I had gotten myself into a pretty tight financial spot. I didn’t foresee that every “adult” expense that I could possibly have would come July 1. That was a big problem. I ended up in the worst possible financial scenario with zero cash, zero savings, and my two credit cards maxed out. If you want to keep a balance sheet, I was $10, 500 in the red without the means to pay my last couple bills before payday. So, I went to the coinstar, I called in old debts, I searched Craigslist high and low. I was $35 away from being able to cover all expenses when I got a call from a repo agency. The guy was looking for “night drivers,” otherwise known as “spotters.” I took the job.
Things started out poorly to say the least. The guy was one of the most unintelligent guys I’ve ever met. He never told me his name over the phone and he was over an hour late to meet me at his “office,” which was a shitty apartment in East PB. When he finally gets home, I find an overweight white guy that was dating the trashiest Mexican chick I had ever talked to. Facial piercings, tattoos, and huge wedge sandals, speaking nothing but Spanglish. The guy spoke fluently and they’d yell at each other in Spanish. After they’d get in an argument, he’d let a string of profanities fly, going back and forth between English and Spanish, and then look to me like I knew everything he just said, saying “can you believe this broad?” It was at this moment that I knew this was a bad idea, but desperation kept me there.
The guy goes over the job again for me. $20 for gas money, $2 per address, 25 addresses, and $20 for each car found. I was guaranteed $70, which I needed. I did all the math and figured that my break even point on the gas money was around 140 miles, so I’d stop there regardless of how many addresses I had done. There was one crucial thing that I had overlooked that would come to my attention in several hours.
So I get going pretty late for the my little repo escapade. Things are going ok for the first couple of addresses. It's pretty exciting actually! I'm searching for these cars, determined to get the $20. It's not until the third or fourth address that I get to a rough neighborhood. I'm definitely in the North Park area on the WRONG side of El Cajon. It's scary. People fixing cars under street lights at 9:30 at night, guys smoking in the dark on front porches, just staring at me. I was intimidated to say the least. Next thing I know, my heart is in my throat. I saw my target car! The only problem is that I'm scared. so much so that I passed down $20 by not confirming the VIN of one of my target cars. It was all the way down a very long driveway in a very ghetto looking place, so I chose safety over paying my bills.
On to the next couple addresses. Things were largely uneventful for the next few hours. At one point I saw a coyote out in El Cajon in horse property. Absolutely beautiful homes! No cars, nothing exciting...
I'm starting to get pretty bored. I give Jackie Quinn a call to pass the time. She's chatting me up, and it's great. We're talking about everything. Things are new with this girl, as I recently broke up with Rebecca, but things are easy. Conversation flows, there are good jokes, great laughs, and we're passing the time. One thing she says is that she hopes I don't end up in Skyline and describes why. Bad gang activity, murders, drugs, the works. The next thing I know, I'm getting lost, so I need to hop off the phone with her. I punch the address into my phone GPS and the next thing I know, the directions tell me to take a left onto Skyline Blvd... Oh shit.
I'm pretty nervous at this point, bordering to downright scared. I'm quick with everything I do and my head is on a swivel. Next I come up to an address that is pretty dark. I'm trying to find details that I need to be writing down without circling the neighborhood like I did earlier in the night. That causes suspicion, something I definitely don't need. It's a one story house, two car garage, front lights either off or burned out, large side yard... I look across the street and see two guys straight out of Training Day. One throws down some gang signs, the other starts to lift up his shirt... and I'm GONE. I drive out of there like a bat out of hell. I just drive. I don't know where I'm going, if I'm wearing the wrong colors, the right colors, if I'm in gang territory, or what direction I'm headed. I just drive. I'm terrified. My heart is racing, I'm feeling angry, exposed, and somewhat out of control. I finally get to a spot that is pretty deserted, looking like there were some vacant lots on the side of a road. I stop and while checking my mirrors every three seconds or so, punch in my address. I'm done! For the first time in my life, I felt that if someone wanted to hurt me, they could have. Not a good feeling.
Once I get back to the freeway and on my way back to safety, I call up white trash Phil (or Fred?) and let him know I wasn't going to finish. He can have the notes or we can call it even and I'll just head home. He says he'll pay for what I got and then proceeds to try and guilt trip me. I think he missed the fact that I didn't give a damn.
This was one of the scariest nights of my life. When I found out that I was in Skyline, I was scared until the moment I made it back to the freeway. I've never experienced that level of fear because of real perceived danger. This whole experience made me glad I live in Mission Beach, work in an office, and did not join the military or police force.
All in all an interesting experience. I will NEVER do that again.
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