On São Paulo’s Mean Streets, the Rich Roll in Armored Splendor

Everywhere 19-year-old Kareen Passos drives in her pink VW New Beetle, men approach her and onlookers shout “Barbie!”

They can look, but they dare not touch: Ms. Passos’s car is bulletproof.

This metropolis of 10 million is the auto-armoring capital of the world, by some estimates. Last year alone, more than 3,000 automobiles were taken apart, and then put back together complete with steel door plates, windows five layers thick, and tires that keep rolling even after taking a bullet.

Over the last three years, the number of armored cars in Brazil has doubled as an explosion of wealth has sent the newly rich in search of ways to live safely in a class-driven society where the murder rate is nearly five times that of the U.S.

“I wouldn’t drive it unless it was armored,” says Ms. Passos. Her bedroom has a pink computer and pink snowboard in it. “Everything that is mine I personalize in pink. I think it’s a very pretty and expressive color.”

Unlike Ms. Passos and her attention-grabbing car, most Brazilians seek safety by trying not to call attention to themselves, or to their wealth. Publicly traded companies here don’t report executives’ salaries, fearing disclosure could turn them into targets. And the high-heeled feet of São Paulo’s wealthiest women rarely touch the city’s pavement. Many descend from their armored vehicles only in guarded garages.

Brazil’s armoring industry, including some 120 companies that convert vehicles, got its first big break in 1999, when bandits tried to kidnap the children of Jorge Paulo Lemann, the most famous banker in Brazil. A magazine story headlined “The Hero Car” told the gripping tale of how the bandits’ bullets bounced off the car’s windows.

Although the market is still small — less than one percent of all cars sold in Brazil get armored — sales are jumping again, but this time on a quickening of Brazil’s economy that’s expanded the ranks of status seekers. “They want to wear a suit, have a nice watch and buy a nice car, so then it needs to be armored,” says David Silva Ferreira, a salesman employed at a Mercedes showroom.

The country’s armored-car fleet now numbers some 86,300 vehicles according to the Brazilian Association of Armoring, a São Paulo-based trade group. Another 6,000 are added annually.

Even the car-rental company Maxiauto has about 30 armored cars on offer. “You don’t want to be the only one without,” says rental manager Maria Tereza Soubihe, whose customers are often looking to impress clients or friends. On weekends, the company offers a “Bulletproof Bride” special. For $875, a driver in a steel-plated Chevy Omega whisks wedding clients to the hairdresser and then to church.

Armoring is a question that divides some Brazilian families on philosophical grounds. Ms. Passos’s aunt, who runs a business taking Brazilians on Harley-Davidson tours in the U.S., says she thinks armored cars can exaggerate social divisions. “There’s an aspect of keeping up with the Joneses to it,” she says.

Bulletproof vehicles are already standard equipment for some big companies in Brazil. Steel giant Gerdau SA, for instance, offers the vehicles to all executives at the director level and above.

For car enthusiasts, the extensive alterations made to cars during armoring are a downer. Usually priced around $25,000, the process can double the price of a vehicle, and the 400 or so pounds of extra weight can cut a car’s useful life in half. Auto dealers here advise clients not to drive armored vehicles more than 30,000 miles.

“When I wanted to get the BMW, my wife put down her foot. ‘No sports car unless it’s bulletproof,” says Marcelo Morais, an entrepreneur whose advertising company has made him wealthy. But because the groaning weight of auto armor renders some electronic features useless, “I lose a lot of technology,” says Mr. Morais. “The windows don’t open and I can’t use the remotes.”

Some companies now are looking at what could be a growing consumer market. This year, for instance, DuPont launched a new technology in Brazil using Kevlar, the same material used in bulletproof vests. The process costs $10,000 but protects drivers only from .38 caliber handguns, not more powerful 9mm weapons. A DuPont promotional flier, targeting middle-class buyers, promises “peace of mind at accessible prices.”

BSS Blindagens, another São Paulo company, recently began displaying an armored Smart minicar in its showroom. Given its 1,700 pounds and 85 horsepower, it may be the world’s smallest passenger vehicle capable of resisting a .44 Magnum. The firm says it has two orders already from parents buying first cars for teen children.

Brazil’s army keeps tabs on rolling fortresses. The army forbids automobiles with so-called Level III or IV armoring, the kind strong enough to resist military weapons. Having such super-cars on Brazil’s roads “would not be convenient for internal security” an army spokesman said, since they could be used “in a rebellion.”

Many armored-car owners declined to publicly discuss their security measures. “I am the opposite of the pink Beetle,” said one finance executive who paid to armor an ordinary taxi cab and whose driver he pays. Edging unnoticed through São Paulo’s thick traffic one evening, he explained that “the principle of an armored car is disguise and defense. Like the insect. Something very strong and very unseen.”

In Ms. Passos’s case, the student returned from a tour of New Zealand in 2007 with her heart set on a rose-colored car she’d seen during her trip. “I tried to offer her an Audi A3 but she only wanted the Beetle and everything of hers is pink,” says her father, Valdir Passos.

He assured his daughter that her dream was impossible in Brazil, where nearly all cars are black or silver. But then he secretly purchased a new Beetle, which he had re-painted and then bulletproofed.

Mr. Passos, who also drives an armored car, says safety wasn’t his only concern. “My greatest fear is to see disappointment on my daughter’s face,” he says.