Detroit — Everyone knows that Detroit is the Motor City. But what happens to the cars abandoned in blighted neighborhoods, ones near homes that have burned down or maybe flooded in high water?
They might end up here at the Detroit Police Department’s Grand River Impound Lot. And eventually, they may end up on the department’s auction list.
It’s a strange business watching men gather around a cop to buy junk cars from the city.
The day I visited, there were 47 vehicles on the list, in every condition imaginable. Some seemed like they could be drivable again with a key and a few thousand dollars of work. Others look more like modern art pieces.
Thousands of automobiles, boats, buses sit on the lot. Some are burned. Many are discolored. Almost all are rusting.
Other vehicles—not for sale—were impounded there. Some were brand new EVs. Others had the airbags deployed.
The auction was supposed to start at 10 a.m. The streets were lined with litter and parked cars, and some of the regulars had their windows down to socialize.
Around 11 a.m., before the gates had opened, two cops came out to welcome in bidders.
When the gates finally opened, a crowd of about 35 men and one woman gathered around the auction cop, who explained these cars were not going to drive off the lot.
A few people left, dismayed.
The officer explained the protocol: You must say “open” to take the starting bid. Then, after that, the price increases by $100. You must say the hundred part of the bid or you will not get it. Any deviation from the protocol and you will not get the bid.
Wander too far away to snoop on the cars and you’re kicked out of the auction. You can come back next time, though.
I met Felix, a handyman who invested his earnings from Ford’s River Rouge plant to rehab houses in Detroit. He has a number of rentals around the city, he told me.
Now he was scoping out the auctions because a buddy said he was making $10,000 a month buying, fixing, and selling cars. He was here to learn more and didn’t buy anything.
There’s a trick to learning what’s going to be hot and what’s not.
A 2018 Ford Escape went for $2,700. The outside was in decent shape, but there’s no telling whether it would start—keys don’t come with the car, and there’s no access allowed until after you buy it.
Less desirable specimens hovered around $700, snatched up by scrapyards that part them out. The opening bid was usually $600.
Kareem has been coming to the auctions for five years. He told me that along with the scrapyards, the dealerships also have a hold on the operation. He said their salvage licenses allow them to buy a newer car at the auction, rebuild it, and flip it.
An indispensable fountain of wisdom, he knows what cars not to buy (anything with a Chevy 2.4 liter engine, he says, and Ford Flexes, because the water pump is in the middle of the engine—a $2,000 fix).
Before the auction started, Kareem told me to stop touching the cars after I tried to see if a Cadillac’s door would open.
“They’ll kick you out of here if they catch you.”
The rules are strict. A few minutes later, after Kareem’s warning, the auctioneer officer said taking pictures of the cars was not allowed.
A minute later, a young man was caught taking pictures.
“Get out of here,” the top cop said. “You need to leave.”
The pistol on his hip was a good reason to obey. Thankfully, I never got caught.
It’s a bizarre experience to be so close to so many men for about an hour and a half. Some of them have a ritual where they slap their hands on the windows of the car and peer inside as soon as the auction on the vehicle starts.
There are jokes made about the shambolic frames for sale, the mock congratulations toward the winner of a bid for getting a piece of crap. Free advice and a jovial spirit are in abundance.
Tony, an older man with a youthful spirit, bought five cars. I saw him cutting a check to the city after that indicated he got them all close to the starting price of $600.
Tony is lauded in the group. He’s been doing this for over 30 years, and he’s been working on cars his whole life. Tony makes jokes about the vehicles, laughs with the other regulars, and gives them a hard time.
He’s having fun.
But he works hard. He goes to auctions every day, in Detroit or other places, where he can find salvage cars his company can part out for profit. To him, it’s a good thing.
“We help keep people’s cars running,” Tony tells me.
The truth is that there are cars here for cheap, but most of them aren’t drivable. Some of them can be repaired by those willing and able to do the work.
Guys like Kareem and Felix are here to try to make money. Both have invested in Detroit’s recovery, rehabbing land bank homes to make something valuable out of the worthless.
It’s the same story here at the impound lot: Those willing to work hard can find opportunity among the scraps.
Brendan Clarey is deputy editor of Michigan Enjoyer.
