Travel story about using driveaway's to save money and travel.
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Damned if I was going 65! It was 3am and San Antonio was 200 miles further. I punched the accelerator until the Mercedes approached 100mph. Would the engine blow? To tell the truth, I didn’t care. I wasn’t my $50,000 car. It was a “driveaway”.
Driveaways are cars travelers deliver to different destinations around North America. For example, let’s say a Boston executive transfers to LA. A busy executive couldn’t sacrifice the week to drive coast-to-coast. He would pay to have the car delivered.
Auto Driveaway does just that – transport family cars, company autos, repossessed vehicles to different destinations for their owners. The 80 Auto Driveaway offices hire professional drivers but also encourage travelers to deliver the vehicles. By doing so, the company and the traveler save money.
For the traveler, the costs are minimal. Auto Driveaway provides the first tank of gas and insurance. The traveler pays for all additional fuel, washes the car before delivering it, and, at some offices, pays a $10 processing fee. In all cases, the traveler must supply a $300 refundable deposit in cash or traveler’s checks – no credit cards. All together, expenses usually come to half the price of a plane ticket to the same destination.
Auto Driveaway explains these details at their website. While they claim to provide easy travel and no hidden costs, the first time I used the service I discovered Auto Driveaway missed some important details.
I was in Atlanta, bound for New Jersey. I called the driveaway office. While the manager said Auto Driveaway didn’t reserve cars, she assured me that a Ford Explorer was waiting to be delivered to Patterson, New Jersey. I was the only person who had called about it. Therefore, I arrived to the office ready for a relaxing day meandering up the Eastern seaboard.
“We need your fingerprints,” the manager said.
“Why?” I asked. Did I look like a car thief?
“Everybody does it,” the manager said.
Next, she handed me a six-page contract – one page having an illustration of a car.
“Fill these out. Inspect the car. List every scratch and dent on this sheet. The owner will inspect the car upon delivery. If you wreck the car, the first $300 of damage will come from your deposit. Any other damage not listed on the sheet will come out of your deposit.”
“How do I get the deposit back?” I asked.
“After the owner signs the release, go to the closest Auto Driveaway office to pick up a check.”
“Where’s the closest office?”
“New York City.”
“So I’m going to have to spend half a day in New York City finding the office, then a bank, and paying for transportation in and out of the city?”
She gave me an unsympathetic yes.
Then came another wrinkle. Auto Driveaway expects you to drive 450 miles each day along an assigned route, usually interstate highways. The agent assigned me dull, lifeless Interstate 90 route. To deter joyriding, the manager imposed the standard mileage limit – 110% of the distance to the destination.
“No more than ten hours driving a day, no hitchhikers, no drinking,” she said. She dangled the keys. “And no smoking in the driveaway!”
“No problem,” I said. I found the Explorer in the parking lot, turned the key and, as soon as I could, I lit a Marlboro.
While many gorgeous views lie between New Jersey and Atlanta, none are near Interstate 90. The most exciting site is a round water tower painted like a giant peach just outside of Gafney, S.C. I drove as far as the peach, then turned off the highway toward the Blue Ridge Parkway. The parkway is a rambling route along aqua-colored mountains. The traffic moves slowly and bluegrass radio is always within range – a perfect atmosphere for a road trip.
About midnight, I pulled into Charlottesville, Virginia. Graduation at the University of Virginia was the following morning. Rows of chairs decorated with blue and orange ribbon sat in front of The Rotunda, the dome Thomas Jefferson designed. The streets were full of students. I drank beers with the graduates then sped toward Chesapeake Bay.
I was drinking bad coffee in a truck stop two days later. While looking over the contract for the address where I was to deliver the Explorer, I spotted some fine print: “The driver will be charged 25 cents a mile for every mile over the mileage limit.” The manager never mentioned it, I never read it, but I was already 400 miles over that limit. By the time I drove up to the destination, an LSI Logic office building, I was resigned to the outcome. I would deliver the Explorer, be scolded for joyriding, and be fined $100.
A manager, a woman with short heels and cat-eyed glasses, met me at the front door.
“I’m a bit rushed. Do you have the keys? The papers?” She signed the release. “Thanks,” she said and whisked back into the building. She neither checked the condition of the car nor the odometer. My deposit was safe.
In the three years since that first trip, I’ve taken 14 other driveaways. I’ve never lost a deposit, but should have. Once, I dozed off while driving a repossessed Plymouth. I woke up in the median of Interstate 80 somewhere west of Laramie. A thigh-long scratch stretched from the wheel well of the left read fender to the bumper. Sure, there had been a scratch there before, about four inches long, but nothing like this wound. The loan officer at the bank in Biloxi noticed the scratched fender. He didn’t know what the car originally looked like, but only that the contract vaguely described a scratch on the same fender. He believed the huge scratch had been there all along.
On another occasion, this time in a Ford pickup, I toured New England – every single state. I overshot the mileage limit by 600 miles.
“Don’t worry about it,” the plant manager said. He was generous and grandfatherly, fed me croissants, signed all the papers and offered to buy me dinner.
Not every owner was so casual. I drove a Mazda Miata from Atlanta to Palm Springs. While the owner had no idea that I had sped 110mph across the Texas desert in her Miata, she wouldn’t sign the release until I delivered a shiny car. I had to spend $15 at the car wash to have it washed and waxed.
Soldiers frequently use Auto Driveaway. They are as picky about their cars as they are about their boots. When delivering a serviceman’s car, I allot an extra 30 minutes to clean it. While I still deviate from the assigned routes when driving private individuals’ cars, I generally take extra care.
Not every driveaway car is a gem. I drove a Buick that smelled like old popcorn, a Taurus with windshield wipers that stalled in rain, and the pickup I drove to Boston got less than 15 miles to a gallon of gas.
Nonetheless, I have had some great road trips in borrowed cars just by being flexible. Being flexible was the soul reason I was able to take a road trip in someone else’s Mercedes.
I was in Baltimore but moving to New Orleans. I called Auto Driveaway.
“Nothing going to New Orleans,” the manager said. “If you can drive a bit farther, I’ve got a Mercedes going to San Antonio.” That worked. I could drop my suitcases in New Orleans, drive to San Antonio, and return on bus. I only had one condition – I had several suitcases and needed an empty trunk. The manager assured me it was. An hour later, he and I were driving to pick up the car.
The white Mercedes 300D sat in the driveway of the owner’s best friend. It was a luxurious sedan with leather seat, overdrive, and an Alpine stereo….and a trunk packed full with luggage.
“Can’t do it,” I said.
“What do you mean ‘can’t do it,'” the best friend asked. “It has been here a week.”
I explained my dilemma. “What if I give you some extra money? You can send your bags UPS? Would a hundred dollars do?” Before I could say anything, she popped up again. “How about $150?”
“I could probably send them.” She went to the house to get her checkbook.
By the time I pulled into San Antonio, I was feeling good. I had saved money by squeezing all my suitcases into the backseat and by staying overnight with friends. The Mercedes had gotten surprisingly good gas mileage. Therefore, I splurged with a steak dinner and a hotel room.
Just before turning in, I tallied up my bills: food, diesel and one night’s stay in Holiday Inn. Added up I had spent $127. I was $23 ahead. I only wish that I could make money on all my road trips.
Here’s what Auto Driveaway had to say about this article:
“Nice article Stephan, …It has now been sent to all 65 Auto Driveaway offices, thanks to our Denver office finding your article. Your lack of integrity is what turns some people away from having their car transported by a traveler. Thankfully there are many more travelers who have a little sense of responsibility and we can all benefit from Auto Driveaway service. Next time take the bus.”
Questions?
If you want more information about this area you can email the author or check out our North America Insiders page.