Over several weeks last year, I rode shotgun with Jhonni, driver and proprietor of an electric blue limousine in Buenos Aires. This 40-year-old Colombian, previously a tennis coach and gym owner, told me that he left it all behind when offered the chance to buy this 1972 Ford Fairlane. To its 8 seats, 4 doors, and cream leather interior, Johnni has added a table, a hefty sound system, and a horn that simulates the sound of a mewling cat. Although the previous owner didn’t offer any proof, word has it that the car originally belonged to the fleet of Juan Domingo Perón. For the last ten years Johnni has offered his services for birthday parties, bachelorette parties, wedding celebrations, and orgies that steam up the tinted windows. He also claims to have once picked up Diego Maradona. More than superstars, the people I shared the limo with were everyday types: romantic boyfriends, middle class office workers pretending to be rock stars for a night, parents from humble backgrounds who had saved for months to be able to give their daughters a fairytale Quinceañera, and 30-something-year-olds horny for simulated sex with a male stripper. The next guest to ride in the limo, free of charge I assume, will be Jhonni’s 21-year-old son Martín, who is about to be released from prison after three years.
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