The cars are cool. Not all of them of course. But there are a hell of a lot of old 50s American cars, hefty fin-shaped Fords and Cadillacs, lurking on the streets. And old buses and trucks, gaily painted, parked up in an empty space. I never found out why.
I liked the garages, too. In a city choked by traffic, a place to put your vehicle is not an easy thing to find. I was startled on many occasions by a loud beeping noise which, it turns out, serves to warn passersby that from a hidden door or wall a car is emerging. Beep beep beep and the garage door slowly slides open. Argentina well organised once again. While most of these garages were under apartment blocks, some were in empty buildings – burnt out offices and grand abandoned palaces with cars lined up in them. It’s obviously a lucrative business, car parks – there were hundreds and hundreds and in them, there’s a whole life. Men sit all night guarding precious metal, with radios on and little kitchens and a place to lie for a few hours. Another obsession, I’m afraid – I kept peering into their underworlds to check for dead bodies or private parties.
There are also lots of filling stations and car washes, right in the middle of a busy city, side by side with cafes and banks and shops. Close to my hotel was a large car wash I particularly loved – it was pale pink and had, in a far corner, a little upstairs space with porthole windows which were lit up every night. I imagined the car washers all squashed into the space, watching telly – I could hear the noise of violent film deaths and shrieking soap operas as I walked by in the evenings.
I liked the garages, too. In a city choked by traffic, a place to put your vehicle is not an easy thing to find. I was startled on many occasions by a loud beeping noise which, it turns out, serves to warn passersby that from a hidden door or wall a car is emerging. Beep beep beep and the garage door slowly slides open. Argentina well organised once again. While most of these garages were under apartment blocks, some were in empty buildings – burnt out offices and grand abandoned palaces with cars lined up in them. It’s obviously a lucrative business, car parks – there were hundreds and hundreds and in them, there’s a whole life. Men sit all night guarding precious metal, with radios on and little kitchens and a place to lie for a few hours. Another obsession, I’m afraid – I kept peering into their underworlds to check for dead bodies or private parties.
There are also lots of filling stations and car washes, right in the middle of a busy city, side by side with cafes and banks and shops. Close to my hotel was a large car wash I particularly loved – it was pale pink and had, in a far corner, a little upstairs space with porthole windows which were lit up every night. I imagined the car washers all squashed into the space, watching telly – I could hear the noise of violent film deaths and shrieking soap operas as I walked by in the evenings.
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