TROKAS AND CORRIDOS

by Carlos Reyes

Clouds of smoke and the smell of burning rubber filled the air as a huge crowd formed around a cherry-red 1994 Chevrolet Silverado that skidded its way out of a truckfilled parking lot on a sunny Sunday morning. This would go on for several more hours, as hundreds of vibrant-colored trucks from all over California piled into Lake Cunningham for one of San José’s many weekend car meets.

Color and noise consumed the area. Neighboring car clubs and solo riders filled parking spots with their “Old Body Style” trucks, chrome rims glistening in the sunlight and corridos, a genre of Méxican regional music that relies on storytelling, blasting through their sound systems. Local street vendors filled the stomachs of attendants with a variety of Méxican antojitos drinks throughout the event.

At the center of it all sat Jalisco native Adan Lopez, die-hard truck enthusiast, founder of OBS NorCal and the organizer of one of the biggest OBS (Old Body Style) truck meets in the Bay Area.

“Since I was a kid, my dad used to own a body shop, so I grew up with cars,” Lopez said. “I was always around cars and that’s how I got into it. I love this community, the people are so friendly and it’s a passion of mine.”

The trucking scene in San José is a Méxican Americanled movement that has been growing a steady following within the past decade and is often seen as an offspring of the lowrider movement. Just like lowrider culture has grown synonymous with oldies songs by artists like Ritchie Valens and Paul Anka, truckers have also developed their own curated playlists consisting of corridos from vintage artists like Chalino Sánchez, to modern grupos, or music groups, like Fuerza Regida.

Adding on to the similarities with lowrider car clubs, slammed trucks can also be seen cruising across the 408’s busy streets with tinted windows rolled down and the occasional Méxican flag adorning the vehicle’s hood.

Just like the lowrider scene, truckers also show an affinity towards embellishing their cars with Méxican American imagery, religious iconography and traditional Indigenous symbols.

“It’s huge man. A lot of people are into trucks, they just love to build them. Everything from putting on new wheels, swapping engines, adding new paint and installing a new sound system, there’s an endless list of what you can do in order to build a truck,” Lopez said.

Music has catapulted the hobby to new heights in cities like San José, who witnessed a dramatic increase in popularity thanks to local Méxican-American music groups like Marca MP who don’t shy away from mentioning trucks in their lyrics.

Méxican youth is at the forefront of the movement, with young fans drawing inspiration from their taste in music and love for trucks in order to produce ridiculous builds that not only catch the eye, but also hurt the pocket. With most builds ranging anywhere between $15,000 to $70,000, it comes as no surprise how passionate people are about their trucks.

“I’ve been at it for like five years bro. It’s not even about the price, it’s just the process it takes bro. I’ve had this shit for a while, building slowly and slowly. To see it where it is now, it’s pretty dope. I really fuck with the truck,” Eduardo said, a participant at February’s meet.

While flashy trucks and corridos may take up the spotlight at most meets, street vendors help add another layer to the Méxican influence felt at these events. The presence of tacos de birria, stewed tacos, aguas frescas, fruit drinks, and raspados, shaved ice, help create a feeling of being back at home in your pueblito, or small village, that can very easily be lost amidst the buzzing nature of city life in the Bay Area. The trucking community pays this forward with an increase in sales for small business owners who are still recovering from the effects of the pandemic and San José’s high cost of living.

“After the effects of the worldwide pandemic, these events have really helped families and small businesses keep moving forward. The rule of Méxicans not wanting to help other Méxicans has finally been broken, and is not at all as it seems. Every time I see people I know on the streets, I do my best to help,” Sandra Oliveros, a local aguas frescas seller who had set up shop at the meet, said.

San José’s “no cruising law” had tormented Méxican American communities ever since its creation in 1986. The law, which was intended to reduce traffic congestion and gang activity, prohibited the act of cruising, which was a popular pastime for many young Chicanos. The law gained a notoriety for its harsh enforcement, which often resulted in racial profiling and discrimination.

Although it didn’t always seem possible, trucking culture is growing in San José and shows no signs of slowing down. Nearly a year after San José’s final “No Cruising Zone” sign was removed from East Santa Clara Street, Méxican Americans have taken to the streets to parade their culture on four wheels and a new paint job.

Just like the city itself, the trucking scene in San José provides its people the opportunity to embrace their culture with a modern twist.

“Our roots and traditions are very beautiful, and it’s important that this new generation continues to show that. But now, it has to be done through a bi-cultural form. Two cultures. A Méxican one and an American one. This is a very beautiful fusion of the two,” Oliveros said.