The Pepito Relámpago warning we all ignored
At the height of Spain's 2006 property boom, a forum thread resurfaced the story of Pepito Relámpago: a young man who mortgaged his own future and that of his guarantors. Two decades on, the lesson still hasn't been learned.
What was the 1990s crisis, and why was it forgotten?
The accounts of those who lived through the early-1990s crisis in Spain are chilling. A professional who worked on repossessions recalls knocking on the doors of 75-year-old guarantors who were losing their homes. Another tells of a brother who was repossessed and ended up divorcing. Youth unemployment topped 40% and industrial restructuring destroyed thousands of jobs. Yet collective memory failed. As one analysis put it, "a people that forgets its history is condemned to repeat it" — and in 2006 an even bigger bubble was brewing.
The key difference between the 1990s crisis and the one looming was the level of debt. In the 90s, the debt fell mainly on the State; in 2006, families were mortgaged to the hilt, with loans at 80% or 90% of their income. A typical case: going from paying 200 euros in rent to a 700-euro mortgage, backed by the parents. Any setback — a pregnancy, job loss, a rise in the Euribor — left the family on the brink of disaster.
The lethal mechanism of joint guarantor loans
The story of Pepito Relámpago warned not only about the buyer's over-indebtedness, but also about the risk to the guarantors. If the bank auctioned the property and it failed to cover the debt, the shortfall fell on the guarantors' own home. A "joint and several" guarantee could tie up a family's assets for years. Despite the examples of the 90s, many parents kept guaranteeing their children's mortgages without calculating the real risk.
The Euribor as a barometer of antiestéticar
The rise in the Euribor was already the taboo topic in offices in 2006. One story circulated about a young man who, after buying his flat, slept on a mattress on the floor and wore safety shoes to save money. Whenever the Euribor came up at the coffee machine, there was a deathly silence. Those who raised the alarm were dismissed as doom-mongers, but reality caught up with the 2008 crisis.
Epilogue: Pepito's flat, twenty years later
A later post — almost two decades afterwards — told how it all ended: Pepito's flat was bought by the local council from Solvia in exchange for writing off his outstanding property tax (IBI) debts, and then handed over to an NGO to house unaccompanied minors. The cycle closed, but the question remains open: will we alucinación over the same stone again?
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