Going, Going, SOLD to the Highest Bidder

Community Service Officers Harvey Moos (left) and Steve Kemper shepherd the semiannual auction of vehicles impounded or seized by the Moorhead Police and Clay County Sheriff. The auction starts at 10 a.m. Saturday at the city impound lot, 2205 15th Ave. N., with previews from 1 to 3 Friday and beginning at 8 a.m. Saturday. Along with more than 80 vehicles, the sale includes about 50 bicycles, dozens of lots of tools and other items found in the cars, and excess city property — from old City Hall furniture to a garbage truck. (Photo/Russ Hanson)

Nancy Edmonds Hanson
hansonnanc@gmail.com

Are you looking for a garbage truck?
How about a first car for your teen or a beater to drive to work? A bicycle? A scooter? A toolkit, a skateboard, a desk that did its duty at City Hall?
And if a bargain price is at the top of your wish list, here’s your chance: the Moorhead Police Auction on Saturday.
It’s been a tradition for 40 years, this fast-moving bargain hunt at the department’s impound lot at 2206 15th Ave. N. Beginning at 10 a.m., McLaughlin Auction Company of Dilworth will sell more than 80 motor vehicles, some 50 bicycles and a long list of miscellanies to the highest bidder.
Moorhead’s two community service officers, Harvey Moos and Steve Kemper, handle the most unusual sale in town, along with a cadre of police volunteers. Starting at 8 a.m., when the gate opens, several hundred private citizens will roam the rows of four-wheeled merchandise. Bidding begins at 10 a.m. – in person and online at the McLaughlin site, www.proxibid.com.
By early afternoon, the lot will be nearly bare. But latecomers needn’t despair. The spectacle will be back the last Saturday in April for another, even bigger round – part of the never-ending process of disposing of impounded and seized vehicles, as well as rolling stock from the city and county fleets that’s reached retirement age.
For two days a year, the police operate one of the community’s busiest used car lots. “They come with no guarantees,” Deputy Chief Tory Jacobson points out, “but the prices are rock bottom.”
Most of the cars and pickups to be sold Saturday were languishing on the curbs of Moorhead streets until the police towed them away. Impounds are triggered by five or more outstanding parking tickets.
“Their owners can come and get them by paying those tickets,” Tory notes. But the price for redemption rises as the clock ticks on. Impounded cars rack up substantial fees, starting with the charge for towing. They incur a storage fee for every day they spend on the city lot in north Moorhead, too.
The total compounds quickly – sometimes exceeding the vehicle’s value. “It’s not uncommon for owners to walk away when they see what it would cost to retrieve it,” the deputy chief says. “Sometimes they indicate they’ll come to the auction and bid on them there. They can buy them back and get clear title for less than what it would take to claim them.”
Others, he adds, are unable to redeem vehicles from the impound lot because they can’t prove ownership — when cars have changed hands privately, perhaps, without the proper paperwork. And some are simply mysteries. As their pedigree suggests, they’re sold “as is” to those who bid– their histories unknown and their drivability untested. Few, if any, come with keys. A locksmith will be on hand to enable buyers to start up what they’ve purchased.
“No warranties, of course,” Tory says — for that matter, no guarantees that the vehicle will start. These are liquidation sales. Many go for a few hundred dollars or even less. Depending on the going rate for scrap iron, the least worthy are likely to end up as salvage or in the warm embrace of car crushers. A crushing machine, in fact, is brought on-site on auction days. Minimum bids are based on what the salvage companies are willing to pay. Starting bids are typically $100.
A smaller portion of Saturday’s inventory reaches the auction block via a different route. Newer and more promising vehicles tend to have been entangled in drunk driving or drug seizures. If the court orders them forfeited as part of the sentence, they’re retitled to the city and sold, along with the other property found inside.
That miscellaneous trove of forfeited personal property can hold surprises, Tory notes. Think of whatever you’d find in a back seat, car trunk or truck bed. It’s long on tools — both hand and power versions – as well as stereos, tool chests, coolers, booster cables, skateboards, sports equipment, gas cans, fishing gear, and even clothing.
Fall and spring auctions are also where both the city and county dispose of cast-offs from their own motor pools. Squad cars, utility vans, government vehicles and, of course, that garbage truck fall into this category. Unlike impounds and seizures, these come with a clear maintenance record … and keys.
Bicycles are hot, too. However they escaped their young owners, unclaimed two-wheelers eventually end up in police storage. All but the occasional high-end ride are auctioned in batches. The high bidder gets his or her choice of the best of the lot; then bidding resumes for the remainder.
Tory predicts this auction’s most unusual lots – old office furniture from City Hall – will also go for rock-bottom prices.
Net revenue from the auction goes in one of two directions. Impounded vehicles and property sales go back into the city’s general fund. Proceeds from the auction of court-ordered seizures is split between the county prosecutor’s office and the law enforcement agencies involved in the arrest.
Auctions usually draw several hundred people, according to the deputy chief. Many of them are regulars, from smaller car dealers looking for stock and shade-tree mechanics to individuals interested in cheap transportation. As they purchase vehicles, they pay the auctioneer, get their titles, and then drive – or tow – their purchases out of the lot. But even if they start on the first try, the new owners can’t take them for a spin. Instead, those who get behind the wheel of their new vehicle are expected to park them along the curb outside. Only after they’ve gotten licenses at the Department of Motor Vehicles and arranged for insurance can they breeze down the street aboard their new rides.
That sequence is important. Until buyers have that license plate and insurance card in hand, they can’t legally drive those new chariots. “You’ve got to remember that this is a police auction,” Tory says. “Sometimes you see vehicles being towed back in by the police just as fast as they’re driven off the lot.”

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