Niel Flamm 9/24/26 Niel Flamm 9/24/26

Another “Bank Repossessed” TikTok Car Deal — And the Phone Numbers Don’t Even Match

TikTok apparently still thinks I need a ridiculously inexpensive performance car.

The latest account to appear in my feed calls itself “Bank Repossessed Cars” and uses the handle @bankrepocarsforsale1.

At the time of my screenshot, the account had:

54,300 followers.
116,300 likes.

That's substantially larger than several of the questionable car accounts I've written about before.

The profile says:

🚗 Direct from Auctions
🔎 Verified Vehicles + Clean Titles
💰 In-House Financing Available

And then there's a telephone number for direct messages:

+1 (347) 218-1605

Sounds impressive.

Then I started watching the videos.

And once again, I have questions.

🚗 Today's Deal: A 2022 Dodge Charger for $5,850

The video that caught my attention shows what is described as a 2022 Dodge Charger with the following offer:

Asking Price: $5,850
Down Payment: $700
Monthly Payments: $399

The caption describes it as a “2022 Dodge Charger spark”, although the vehicle shown appears to carry a 392 badge.

If this is actually a 2022 Charger Scat Pack/392, that $5,850 advertised price deserves a very close look.

Why?

Because the market numbers aren't even in the same neighborhood.

💰 Kelley Blue Book Says About $37,000 — Not $5,850

Kelley Blue Book currently puts the national Fair Purchase Price of a 2022 Dodge Charger Scat Pack around $37,600. KBB lists roughly $31,900 trade-in, $34,800 private-party, and $37,600 Fair Purchase Price for a good-condition example, while a Scat Pack Widebody is higher still at about $44,100 Fair Purchase Price. Exact values vary with mileage, condition, options, and location. Kbb.com

Edmunds tells a similar story: its current dealer-retail estimate for a regular 2022 Scat Pack ranges from roughly $32,300 in rough condition to $39,500 in outstanding condition. Edmunds

CARFAX's current listings put 2022 Charger Scat Packs at an average listing price of about $44,347, with its displayed range running roughly $36,747–$52,950. Carfax

TikTok?

$5,850.

That's roughly 84% below KBB's $37,600 Fair Purchase Price.

Maybe there's an explanation.

Fantastic.

I'd like to hear it.

🔨 But What About MMR and “Auction Prices”?

This account specifically promotes the vehicles as coming “Direct from Auctions.”

That's where the Manheim Market Report—or MMR—comes in.

MMR isn't the same thing as KBB retail value. Manheim describes MMR as a wholesale-market valuation based on actual vehicles sold through Manheim, with values that can be adjusted for factors such as odometer reading, selling region, condition grade and even color. Manheim

That's why I'm not going to invent an exact MMR for the Charger in this video.

I don't have its VIN.

I don't have verified mileage.

I don't have its condition report.

I don't have its auction location.

I don't have a current vehicle-specific Manheim report.

Without those things, saying, “The MMR is exactly $XX,XXX,” would be pretending to know something I don't.

But here's what we can compare.

KBB puts the Scat Pack's trade-in value around $31,900. JD Power estimates a trade-in base of around $31,250–$33,250, depending on condition. Those aren't MMR, but they're useful wholesale-side reference points. Kbb.com

So if this really is a clean-title 2022 Scat Pack being sold for $5,850, the question isn't simply:

“Is it cheaper because it came from an auction?”

The question is:

How did someone acquire a vehicle worth tens of thousands of dollars cheaply enough to retail it for $5,850?

“Auction” isn't a magic word that makes vehicle economics disappear.

📞 Then I Noticed the Phone Numbers

Here's where things became even more interesting.

The TikTok profile lists:

+1 (347) 218-1605

The 347 area code is associated with New York City, including the boroughs of Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx and Staten Island. It's commonly encountered around the broader NYC/Long Island market, although an area code obviously doesn't establish where somebody currently lives or operates a business.

But I watched several of the account's videos.

The gentleman appearing in those videos provides a different telephone number—with a 717 area code.

The 717 area code serves south-central Pennsylvania, including Harrisburg, Lancaster, and York.

Again, people keep phone numbers after moving. Businesses can have multiple telephone numbers. VOIP numbers exist. None of this, by itself, proves anything improper.

But when I'm supposedly dealing with a business selling cars online, it's another question I'd want answered:

Why does the profile give me one phone number while the person in the videos gives me another?

And, more importantly:

What's the actual dealership?

Where is it physically located?

Which number belongs to that dealership?

Those should be remarkably easy questions for a legitimate automobile dealer to answer.

👀 And Look at the Rest of the Inventory

The Charger isn't alone.

The profile shows a Mustang advertised for:

$8,500 — $900 down — $399/month

A GMC pickup:

$8,000 — $735 down — $399/month

A Mercedes-AMG GLE 53 appears to be advertised around:

$19,500 — $1,500 down

Another vehicle:

$5,500 — $500 down

Another:

$7,800 — $750 down

There's even a vehicle shown around $25,000 with $1,300 down.

The scenery changes.

The dealerships and lots visible in the videos appear to change.

The vehicles range from ordinary transportation to expensive luxury and performance models.

Yet the formula remains remarkably familiar.

🚩 “Verified Vehicles + Clean Titles”

Great.

Verified by whom?

That's not sarcasm. That's an actual question I'd ask before buying.

If I'm buying one of these cars, give me the VIN.

Then I can verify the vehicle myself.

If it has a clean title, provide the documentation I need to confirm it independently.

If it came from an auction, tell me which auction.

If you're a licensed dealer, give me the legal business name, physical address, and dealer-license information.

If you're offering in-house financing, give me the written financing terms.

I don't need a green checkmark emoji.

I need documentation.

💳 $700 Down and $399 a Month — What's the Loan?

There's another mathematical problem worth examining.

The Charger is advertised at:

$5,850 purchase price

minus

$700 down

which leaves:

$5,150

If the payments really are $399 per month, $5,150 divided by $399 is only about 12.9 payments, before interest, taxes, fees, or anything else.

So what's the actual term?

What's the APR?

What's the amount financed?

What's the total of payments?

Who's extending the credit?

Are there additional fees?

If the actual vehicle costs $5,850, those should be straightforward questions.

If $5,850 isn't actually the total cash price, then I'd like to know what that number represents.

🚩 54,000 Followers Don't Answer Any of This

This account is bigger than many I've previously documented.

54,300 followers.

That's meaningful social proof.

Someone encountering the account might reasonably think:

They have 54,000 followers. They must be legitimate.

But we've been through this before.

Followers aren't a dealer license.

Likes aren't a title.

Views aren't a VIN.

A green checkmark emoji isn't vehicle verification.

And a real person standing beside a real automobile doesn't establish that the TikTok account displaying the footage owns that automobile or is authorized to sell it under the advertised terms.

🚗 A Real Car Still Doesn't Automatically Make the Offer Real

This has become a recurring theme in this series.

Some of these videos clearly contain actual cars.

Some appear to have been filmed at actual dealerships.

There are real salespeople.

Real parking lots.

Real transporters.

Real dealership signs.

That's persuasive imagery.

But the question isn't:

“Does the car in this video exist?”

It's:

“Does this TikTok account own or have authority to sell this exact vehicle for this exact price under these exact terms?”

Those are very different questions.

I'm not claiming the footage on this account was copied from somewhere else. I haven't established that.

But before sending a $700 deposit, I'd want to establish where the footage came from and whether the seller I'm communicating with is actually connected to that vehicle.

🏡 Be Careful — and Be a Good Neighbor

This is the part that matters most.

Imagine someone who has terrible credit.

Their car just died.

They need transportation Monday morning, or they risk losing their job.

Traditional dealerships have turned them down.

Then TikTok serves them:

2022 Dodge Charger

$5,850

$700 down

$399/month

In-house financing available

That doesn't necessarily look suspicious to someone in that situation.

It looks like hope.

That's why, if somebody you know is considering one of these deals, don't ridicule them.

Help them investigate.

Before sending money, get the VIN. Verify the title. Find the dealership's legal name and physical address independently. Verify the dealer license with the appropriate state regulator. Call a publicly listed number—not simply the number supplied in a TikTok profile. Get the complete financing agreement. Have the vehicle independently inspected. And compare the asking price with retail and realistic wholesale values.

If the seller won't let you do those things before sending a deposit?

Keep your $700.

Different Account. Same Questions.

I'm seeing this pattern often enough that I can practically write the checklist before opening the profile.

Extremely inexpensive desirable car.

Small down payment.

Low monthly payment.

“Direct from auction.”

“Clean title.”

“In-house financing.”

Private messages.

Phone numbers that raise additional questions.

And prices that appear wildly disconnected from ordinary retail values.

Maybe this account has a perfectly reasonable explanation for it all.

I'd be interested in hearing it.

Because based on the screenshot, a $5,850 2022 Charger that appears to be a 392, compared with a KBB Fair Purchase Price around $37,600 for a Scat Pack, is one heck of an explanation. Kbb.com

Until then:

Be careful. Verify everything. And don't let a $700 down payment make a $30,000 question disappear.

Follow the continuing series at NielFlamm.com/blog.

Niel Flamm 9/24/26 Niel Flamm 9/24/26

Coffee Chats with Donna: I Should Have Brought a Notebook

Today’s coffee delivery was a small Dutch Bros Americano with vanilla and cream.

And I have an update: my friend has a name.

Donna Woods.

She’s the woman I’ve been getting to know while visiting my mother at the skilled nursing facility. Our previous conversations have covered burgers, sweet tea, prosthetics, and enough pets to require a separate address book.

Today, the conversation continued. My ability to keep up did not.

I learned that her husband was a trash collector and later built a Toys “R” Us. Before I could get all the details, we had moved on to pecan ice cream, a strawberry shake, coffee and donuts, and Pensacola, Florida.

I believe that was the order. There may have been a connecting flight I missed.

I was still mentally standing in Toys “R” Us while Donna was already ordering dessert.

She had to be talking 200 words a minute. That’s my unofficial estimate. I didn’t have the equipment—or the processing speed—to verify it.

But I was enjoying myself.

I’m learning that I don’t need to capture every detail to enjoy a conversation with Donna. I can listen, follow what I can, and accept that I may leave with questions about how we got from trash collection to a strawberry shake.

Then Donna had things to do.

The 11 a.m. Coffee Chats were coming up, and she was rounding up people. She was meeting new residents, saying hello to nurses, and making sure people knew there was somewhere to go and someone to talk to.

I don’t know whether she has an official role in organizing any of this. From what I saw, she wasn’t waiting for a title.

Donna was working the room.

Watching her, I got to see another side of the friend I’ve been writing about. I’ve talked about the importance of stopping to listen and making time for people. Today, I watched Donna doing her own version of showing up: greeting people, introducing herself, and inviting them into a conversation.

She had a full social schedule, and she appeared ready to help everyone else acquire one.

I came into the facility because my mother is there. Along the way, I’ve found myself looking forward to these conversations, too. Each visit, I learn a little more about Donna—and see a little more of the community around Mom.

Today, that community included an enthusiastic recruiter and an 11 a.m. coffee appointment.

Next time, I may bring a notebook.

Although at Donna’s pace, I should probably learn shorthand first.

Niel Flamm 9/23/26 Niel Flamm 9/23/26

Meditation, a Whopper, and Four Words of Wisdom: Make Good Choices

Tonight, I went to a meditation meeting.

It’s a new meeting, and this was my first time attending. I’d heard awesome things about it; I knew the person guiding the group, and after the last few months—and especially the last week—I figured, why not?

I could probably use a little more conscious contact with the Spirit in the Fourth Dimension to help me be of maximum use to all humanity.

Apparently, immediately afterward, humanity was waiting for me at Burger King.

The meeting ended at 8:00 p.m., which was already way past dinner for me. I hadn’t eaten lunch either.

Correction.

I had half of a King Size Kit Kat bar for lunch.

So, nutritionally speaking, I was thriving.

I was going to make my usual Harris Teeter stop, but then I saw Burger King.

The King was calling.

I safely crossed two lanes of traffic to make the left because, at that particular moment, I wanted to have it my way.

I ordered a Whopper Jr., fries, and—of course—a Coke Zero. I also ordered a Rodeo Burger because I love the onion rings and BBQ sauce combo.

I was sitting there waiting for my food when I heard someone yelling.

I looked ahead, and this dude was waving his hands, obviously trying to get my attention.

I don’t remember everything he said before this, but I definitely heard:

“I just got out of the pen, and I’m hungry.”

I assumed by “the pen,” he meant prison.

Well.

Welcome back to society. Apparently, I was his Burger King ambassador.

The timing was also interesting.

I had recently talked with Sam Taylor (https://www.facebook.com/sam.peralta.18041), someone I previously led on a Learning & Development team, about my dating adventures—including the woman who wanted help paying her rent and then, after one date, her phone bill.

Sam and I talked about something we both tend to do: we don’t typically hand people money, but we’re willing to buy something they need.

That has generally been one of my boundaries.

I’ve also had a roommate who frequently said:

“I’m one paycheck from being homeless.”

I’ve never forgotten that.

I get it.

Part of my recovery is trying to be useful to other people while still maintaining boundaries.

So I told the guy I’d buy him something to eat.

I got my meal and tried to get the attention of the Burger King drive-thru dudes, who, by the way, were really nice.

I asked if I could order another meal.

Nope.

Apparently, once I reached the window, the sacred Burger King ordering process couldn't be disturbed.

I had to drive around again.

That seemed ridiculous.

But okay.

I asked the guy what he wanted to drink.

“Sprite.”

I told him:

“Don’t move. I have to drive around again.”

He started thanking me and told me he had a gift for me.

I immediately said:

“It’s all good, sir. No gift.”

Meanwhile, inside my head, several possibilities were being considered as to exactly what kind of “gift” a guy who had just gotten out of the pen might be planning to give me.

I decided I was good.

No gift necessary.

I drove around Burger King again, ordered him a Whopper meal with a Sprite, paid, got the food, and pulled forward to hand it to him.

He thanked me and told me he would “pay me back on the back end.”

I’m pretty sure I’m never going to see this guy again.

And that’s okay.

I didn’t buy him dinner because I expected him to pay me back.

Before I drove away, I left him with four words:

“Make good choices.”

He looked at me and said:

“Those are some words of wisdom. Make good choices.”

I wished him luck and drove away.

Then I ate my fries.

For me, that was the unexpected lesson at the end of tonight’s meditation.

I didn’t solve someone’s life. I didn’t give away everything I had. I didn’t abandon my boundaries.

I just bought a hungry stranger a Whopper and a Sprite.

I don’t know if he’ll remember the meal or those four words. I don’t know what happens next in his life.

I only know that tonight, he wasn’t hungry.

And tonight, I received another reminder that being of service doesn’t always happen where I expect it.

Sometimes I find the Spirit in the Fourth Dimension through meditation.

And sometimes...

I find it in the Burger King drive-thru.

I had it my way.

And hopefully, both of us will make good choices.

Niel Flamm 9/23/26 Niel Flamm 9/23/26

Day 101: Nextdoor Said It. The Person Behind the Post Is Doing the Work.

I missed yesterday on LinkedIn, although I posted almost everywhere else.

So, welcome to Day 101.

NXDR closed today at $2.38, down 4.8%.

But something Nextdoor posted on LinkedIn caught my attention even more.

The Scam Emails Are Getting Lazy: “Thanks for Your Order”… What Order?

Apparently, my imaginary shopping spree continues.

After Bitcoin purchases, mystery subscriptions, Geek Squad renewals, Facebook event invitations, and even a watch repair I never requested, the scammers have apparently decided they were working too hard.

Why bother creating an elaborate fake invoice when you can simply send:

“Thank You for Your Order.”

What order?

Excellent question.

Two Days, Two Mystery Orders

Yesterday, I received an email from “Manthan Williams” with the subject:

“Re: Thank You for Your Order 1KJBO6SYBRM6TJBQLEDV”

There was an attachment.

And almost nothing else.

Today, “Elizabeth Lewis” joined the party with:

“Thank You for Your Order 0RQKQA6198JOMD57P”

Another random order number.

Another attachment.

Another email with practically no explanation.

Apparently, customer service has embraced minimalism.

At Least Tell Me What I Bought

This is what makes these emails almost funny.

No recognizable retailer.

No product description.

No price prominently displayed.

No useful explanation of what I supposedly ordered.

Just:

Thank you for your order. Here's an attachment.

Oh, sure. Let me immediately open a mystery attachment from a random Gmail account to discover what I supposedly purchased.

What could possibly go wrong?

I'm not opening it.

That's an important point. I don't need to open an unsolicited attachment to investigate a purchase I don't recognize.

If I actually ordered something, I can check the retailer or payment account independently.

The Random Gmail Addresses Aren't Helping

One email claims to be from Elizabeth Lewis but arrives from a seemingly unrelated Gmail address.

The other claims to be from Manthan Williams and also comes from an unrelated Gmail address.

Could legitimate people use Gmail?

Of course.

But when an unexpected “order” email arrives from a random Gmail account, provides virtually no information, and wants me to open an attachment to learn more, my curiosity isn't winning this battle.

Delete beats double-click.

The Attachment Is the Bait

These messages use a slightly different approach than the fake PayPal and Facebook invitation scams I've been documenting.

Those messages tried to scare me with a large dollar amount and get me to call a telephone number.

These appear designed to create curiosity:

What did I order?

How much did they charge me?

Did somebody use my credit card?

What's in that attachment?

And that's exactly why I'm leaving the attachment alone.

Fear can make people click.

But so can curiosity.

My Imaginary Self Has Quite the Lifestyle

According to my inbox, imaginary Niel has been busy.

Bitcoin.

Geek Squad.

Mystery subscriptions.

Watch repairs.

More mystery subscriptions.

And now two mystery orders in two days.

The only thing missing is knowing what I actually bought.

Come on, scammers.

If you're going to invent purchases for me, at least make them interesting.

Tell me I bought a Ferrari.

A beachfront condo.

A private jet.

Maybe a lifetime supply of Coke Zero.

Give me something worth accidentally ordering.

Instead, I get:

ORDER 0RQKQA6198JOMD57P.

I'm underwhelmed.

Have a Scam Email? Send It to Me

I'm still collecting these because the tactics keep changing, even though the objective remains the same: get us to react before we stop and think.

If you've received a suspicious email, fake invoice, mystery order, phishing text, social media scam, or another creative attempt to separate you from your money, send it my way:

niel@nielflamm.com

Tell me what happened and send a screenshot if you have one. Please remove or cover sensitive personal or financial information before sending anything.

Maybe I'll feature it in a future post.

Until then, Elizabeth and Manthan:

Thanks for thanking me for my orders.

Whatever they are.