
Let me tell you something weird about my job: I make $40–50k a month renting out other people’s fantasy lives. Exotic cars. Yachts. Watches. Mansions. If it glitters or gets likes, chances are I’ve put it in someone’s hands—for a price.
I didn’t get into this business to become a middleman for influencers and wannabe moguls. I’m a car guy. Always have been. I started small. A TRX and a Porsche on Turo. A couple of beachside Airbnbs with golf carts and baseball season tickets included in the bundle. It was a scrappy hustle, but it worked. Year one was decent. Year two was great. By year three I was building an empire. Now? A few million in cars. A few more in real estate. And a Rolodex filled with the fakest people you’ll ever meet.
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