And she keeps on calling: 'Your car warranty is about to expire'

I heard her voice for the first time last summer. She called my cell phone with bad news.

"Your car warranty is about to expire," the woman said. "This is your final warning."

Sister, I thought, you have no idea. At the time, we were a one-car family: A '93 Volvo rattling along with 190,000 miles. That warranty rusted up long ago.

Five things to know about your commute ...

Car warranty calls on YouTube

I could have had more fun with the car-warranty companies stalking me by phone. Just type "car warranty call" into YouTube. Several people have recorded crank conversations with these telemarketers. Among the best is a man who put on a hillbilly accent and tried to get extended coverage on a 1979 Dodge truck that he said had caught fire and was recently used as a generator to heat a chicken coop.

"Spoofing"

This is what consumer advocates call it when a fraudulent car-warranty company masks information to hide outgoing call numbers. It's a violation of the Telemarketing and Consumer Fraud and Abuse Prevention Act. My caller I.D. showed robocalls coming from a number that once belonged to a woman in Lawrenceville, Ga. It's now a disconnected line.

Legitimate extended warranties

Auto dealerships in the Portland area say they have heard from several customers, wondering about the validity of extended-warranty calls. Let's be clear: Automakers do offer the real deal. Legitimate warranties are hundreds of dollars cheaper, have working call-back numbers, and will show you something in writing before asking for payment. To be safe, check your manufacturer's warranty and contact your dealer before buying.

Northeast 33rd Avenue at Dekum Street

It will be detour city on this busy section of street in Northeast Portland for the next two weeks. Starting today, crews are repairing a damaged traffic railing on the "flyover" bridge ramp that carries northbound traffic to both Columbia Boulevard and 33rd Drive. Division Street (thumbs up) No, not the east-west thoroughfare running through Portland.


"Division Street"

A documentary film coming to an indie movie house near you very soon. It reveals what life is like at the farthest point from any road in the Lower 48 states (Hint: It's in Yellowstone National Park). The trailer popped up on the Web last week. For anyone craving to get off the grid after a long commute, it's worth a look.

Scam. I hung up. But robocall wouldn't take "click" for an answer. She kept calling.

She promised the calls would end if I simply pushed "2." It didn't work. She even started ringing my work number.

Two weeks ago, feeling scrappy, I pushed "1" to see what was beyond the recording. I wondered how far I could go before they realized I was just keeping them from moving on to some unsuspecting commuter.

A woman's voice with a heavy accent took the call. She got right down to business: "Make, model and year?"

"Are you from India?" I asked.

"No, sir," she said. "Southern California. Make, model and year of the car, sir."

"Don't you have all of that information?" I asked. "I mean, you called me to tell me my warranty's almost up."

My wife jogged into the room, frantically whispering, "Don't give them any personal information!"

Anyone could see through the deception, right?

Actually, hard times are good times for auto-warranty scams. When the economy is dragging, people tend to hold off on upgrading their automobiles. So, promises of a piece of paper covering everything under the hood, guaranteed to be honored by dealers and mechanics, can seem pretty sweet.

Cornell Ullman of Oregon City almost bit two years ago. His 2002 Ford Explorer's warranty was about to expire. "I thought they were legit, affiliated with Ford," he said of the company calling itself National Auto Warranty Services.

But when he told the salesman he wanted time to think about the $2,200 offer, the pressure intensified. "They said I needed to make a decision right then," Ullman said. "I asked, 'What's going on here?' "

Attorneys general in 40 states, including Oregon, are asking the same thing. They have opened investigations into at least five companies using multiple names.

The worst offender, authorities say, is USfidelis of Wentzville, Mo., also known as Dealer Services and National Auto Warranty Services. Consumers have complained that they bought the company's extended warranties and still paid thousands for repairs.

The Better Business Bureau doesn't know of anyone in Oregon or southwest Washington who actually bought the warranties. But someone is.

According to an NBC News investigation last week, USfidelis president Darain Atkinson is a convicted felon who is building a $17 million mansion with an 11-car garage in Missouri.

USfidelis officials told me they sell only legitimate warranties through TV ads. The company, which is also a Nascar sponsor, no longer makes unsolicited phone calls, they said.

"We have 270,000 customers," a spokeswoman told me. "We've only had 1,100 complaints. And all but 12 have been settled."

Consumer advocates say my wife was right: If it doesn't feel right, don't relinquish any personal information, especially credit card and Social Security numbers, over the phone.

During my 10-minute conversation with "Car Warranty Services," I was told that my 1993 Volvo wagon didn't qualify. I mentioned that I recently bought a newer model: a 2001 with 125,000 miles.

The saleswoman wanted the vehicle identification number. "Nope," I said.

So, she transferred me to a supervisor named Craig. "So you have a Volkswagen," he said. No. Volvo, I replied.

I was in luck, qualifying for a five-year, 100,000-mile extended warranty, covering all parts and labor. The cost: $3,520. "If you pay in full," Craig said, "we'll knock off $200. What credit card will you be using?"

Time to come clean. I told him I was a nosey newspaper columnist. He hung up.

Curious, I contacted Jim Fischer Volvo in Portland to ask if they would have recognized the extended warranty. "You can't put a warranty on something with that many miles," said Mike O'Connor, a sales manager, chuckling. "We couldn't honor it."

I have to believe there's a special traffic jam in Hell waiting for these pests.

-- Joseph Rose: 503-221-8029; josephrose@news.oregonian.com

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