THE LOAN RANGER

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It’s not every day someone sends you a check for $5,000 out of the blue. Or, then again, maybe it is for some of you. Some divorce courts are tougher than others.

But it’s not an every day occurence for me. So you can imagine my surprise when I opened up my mailbox and found -- you guessed it -- the head of actor Robert Downey, Jr.

No, kidding. Just checking to see if you were still paying attention. I received a very official looking document from a company called HFC, along with a check for $5,000.

Acting on my Sherlockesque instincts, I immediately got ready to go to the bank to cash that puppy. Before I left, however, hints of concern began to creep in to my head. "Why would someone send me this check, no strings attached," I thought. "Perhaps there is more to this than I originally noticed," I thought. "What if HFC stands for Heading For Castration?" I thought.

I decided I had better read the fine print a little closer and perhaps do some research on my own.

The first place I turned for my research was the bastion of reliable information known as the internet. From my first search, I found that HFC is a great big lending company in Illinois. I also found out that they are looking for an account executive (excellent communication and interpersonal skills required).

Not finding the kind of dirt I was hoping for, I decided to do a little background check on this company’s home town, Schaumburg, IL. Here are some of the facts I churned up on innocent little Schaumburg:

As you can see, outside of snow, not much happens in Schaumburg. Not finding the skeletons I thought might be hiding, I turned to my next option -- the actual information that came with the check.

That is when I began to notice some of the strings attached. Actually, they were more along the size of ropes. The first thing that tipped me off was a small statement on the "check" that read, "This is a solicitation for a loan. Read the enclosed disclosure blah blah blah Warren G. Harding blah blah blah Madonna with six dozen sheep blah blah blah."

I began looking over the paperwork. I found that this loan came with not only a substantial interest rate, but also some of that wacky accounting that made people like me not major in business in college. Apparently, for the $5,000 loan, the interest rate is 29.9 percent, but it can be paid out over 60 months, at $161.46 per month, with finance charges of $4,687.60, and a minimum $5.20, maximum $13 payment if you don’t pay the installment, with one finger chopped off for every missed payment and each odd numbered child indentured to HFC servitude for life. (I started to drift towards the end, so I may have been slightly off on some details.)

I read further down and found phrases such as "Rule of 78ths method," "Promissory Notes and Disclosures" and -- the one that really caught my attention -- "we may sue you for the total amount you owe." Now, I won’t kid you -- I have no idea what those first two mean, and quite frankly, I can probably live this and several other lifetimes without knowing. But I am quite sure I know what that last one means. It means I may be stripped of all of my worldly possessions by HFC and made to live in the HFC president’s backyard as his Mandog Zippy for the next 20 years.

So needless to say, I opted not to cash in on the loan. For one thing, it seemed like it would be easier to make money selling mink kabobs at a PETA meeting than to jump through all of the potential legal hoops outlined in the form. Second, from what my limited economic experience tells me, a loan that costs you nearly double the original amount in the long run makes about as much sense as drilling through your own forearm. And, finally, just between you and me, I don’t particularly want to live in a doghouse again.