Compared to these wrecks, the Volkswagen GoCar we climbed into was a luxury vehicle. I sighed in relief as the doors sealed and the air conditioning kicked in, and removed my breather. Rafael did the same—although the taxi was too small to have the head room his massive frame demanded. He slouched down, one muscular arm lying across the back seat, and fluffed out his sweat-stained shirt to catch the cool breeze from the cab’s blowers.