The Luxury Lie: from High-End Cars to High-Value Living.

In Rivadavia, a quaint wine-town in Mendoza, Argentina, horses and foot traffic filled my childhood, not cars. Despite my birth into one of the province's wealthiest families, economic turmoil and hyperinflation repeatedly upended our lives, stripping my grandparents of their luxury clothing business and imported Range Rover, to leave them riding a bicycle around town.

Pushing my cousin’s cart on Rivadavia’s streets in the 80’s.

*Photo courtesy of Archivo Enrique Pizzuto

At eight, we left my grandparents for a smaller, more remote place—a new development surrounded by vineyards and dirt roads, where neighbors watered the ground to keep the dust at bay and fought cows off their backyards. Despite my surroundings, I dreamt of cool, fast cars like the Lamborghini Countach, or the Ferrari Testarossa. My brother and I collected car stickers, carrying our cherished albums everywhere. Yet, these dreams felt distant when my graduation present turned out to be a bicycle, which I treasured like a newborn child.

Life's currents soon swept me around the globe. By seventeen, I had moved over 10 times, and the feeling of sitting in a car had faded from memory.

Mendoza in the 90’s.

This all changed at nineteen, two years after moving to the U.S. My parents, having saved diligently, passed their '93 Cavalier onto me when they bought a minivan. That Cavalier became more than a car; it was my freedom. I drove it carefree, seeking adventures in the Northeast, exploring mountain bike trails and snowboarding slopes.

My first car, a 90’s Chevy Cavalier.

But at twenty-two, influenced by rap music and its glorification of wealth, my desires shifted. I craved money, better clothes, and most importantly, a new car. The Chevy had given way to a '93 Nissan Maxima, which I drove over 100k miles. Yet, with 160k miles on the clock and 15 years old, it was far from the symbol that success culture pressured me to have.

At twenty-four, against all odds, I leased a showroom crisp BMW Z4 Convertible. My friends and family had scoffed at this dream, but pulling up in the bright-red leather covertible proved them wrong. While the car turned heads and won admiration, I felt like a fraud. Deep down, I knew it was all a facade; I was renting a chunk of metal to taste a fleeting feeling of importance.

Somewhere, sometime in 08’.

Despite this realization, I dove deeper into the pursuit of wealth, devouring classics on success and money (see Brian Tracy, Napoleon Hill, Jack Canfield, Tony Robbins, etc). I even joined the high-adrenaline — and cult-like —  world of the financial industry, all to horde the short-lived certainty of the almighty dollar.

When money finally came, I faced a daunting question: what now?

The Lamborghini of my dreams was now within reach, but I knew that going bigger meant sinking deeper. Contrary to other’s YOLO (You Only Live Once) advice, I swapped the Z4 for a pre-owned 3 series. Working in the car business, I had seen behind the magic curtain and didn’t like it. I realized, through experience, that status could come from going smaller, not bigger. The 3 series offered more space, could be beaten harder, and cost less, delivering a sense of inner freedom far greater than any faux status.

Downgrading my bills = upgrading my quality of life.

Then came my first divorce. I lost everything—sports bikes, cars, apartments. To manage the blow, I sold my belongings and soul-searched for nearly two years. Traveling the world, I discovered a hidden gem of life: true freedom emerges when you've lost it all.

But for me, this didn't mean self-destruction. Instead, I embarked on an inner journey of self-discovery, opened by the loss of everything I had worked for, and the opportunity to plant a tree that won’t fall on my head when fully grown.

Fast forward a decade, I've been through third world countries, another divorce, financial upheaval and back to wealth. But it was in Patagonia that I experienced life off the grid, and learned the true value of any car amidst the frostbite-inducing cold and lack of basic amenities.

Looking over the 7 Lakes in Bariloche, Argentina.

Back home, I re-entered the car business with a different perspective. I bought a high-mileage Volkswagen Passat and replaced it over the years with more than ten cars. I sought the best within an emotional, not financial, range. Though I could afford a luxury lease, I chose the inner peace of a paid-off car over debt and the obligation to work for someone to pay for my mistakes. 

Back to true ownership; of my car and my peace of mind.

Ironically, this led me to drive cars I never imagined—Ferraris, a Pagani, Race Cars, and Rolls Royces. From race tracks to designing special edition cars, I tasted the best and most unique vehicles the automobile industry had to offer. But I found my true sense of status and peace in resisting these overgrown boys' toys, understanding the emotions and fears behind each purchase.

No matter what level I played at, the short-lived arousal of a new car was quickly dwarfed by years of financial commitments.

As I write this, I own no car. I sold my pristine 3 series coupe two years ago to finish my book "No Grail Without Dragons." Now, my fiancé and I share one vehicle, finding freedom in this counterintuitive simplicity. And while we could have one (or a few) other gas-powered wheel-chairs, the lack of the invisible torment of pointless financial burdens is a gift discovered underneath our own feet.

Realizing I’ve always had more than I needed — even when scrapping rock bottom —, I stopped chasing what wasn’t me. I stopped spending, acting and selling my soul to impress others. This approach taught me that true status comes from within—by being your best self and extending love and support to those around you. For me, it's about helping others with their battles while figuring out my own.

If you feel the same way, you are not alone. Throughout my years in the business I came to realize that most people step on this bear trap, and my hope is to shine some light on the issue through this post. The way out of the status trap is to find your worth within, to fight the status quo, and find your path. Gone are the days of admiring others for their facades; everyone is two-clicks away from a loan to a bad decision. True importance is about becoming significant to yourself and those around you by who you are and what you do for them, not what you own.

At the end of the day, people won’t remember you by the car you drive, the brand you wear or the oh-so-incredible parties you’ve been to; they will remember you for how you treated and made them feel, and if you’re lucky, for helping them achieve their dreams.

And if you find yourself stuck in this trap as we speak, there are many ways out. don’t settle for less than you deserve, and don’t stop shedding the “should-haves” that keep you prisoner from who you truly want to be. 

Thank you for reading, and please don’t forget to check out my book, No Grail Without Dragons, available now.

Until next time,

Victor.

No Grail Without Dragons

A Man’s Unconventional Path to Love, Purpose, and Peace.