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Writer
Carmella Padilla explains the lowrider phenomenon as a symbol
of Hispanic pride and individuality, while poet Juan Estevan
Arellano helps readers understand lowrider culture and the
significance of the cruise.
Reprinted from Low
'n Slow: Lowriding in New Mexico, photographs by Jack Parsons,
text by Carmella Padilla, and poetry by Juan Estevan Arellano,
copyright 1999 by the Museum of New Mexico Press. By
permission of the Museum of New Mexico Press. (To be published
in April.)
"When he
first told me he was going to be a lowrider, I cried," Olivama
Rael says, motioning across the table to her son, Fred. "I
went to my prayer-book leader and said, 'I need prayer. My
son's going to be a lowrider.'"
It is just before the
dinner rush at Ol's Diner in Española, the Rael family
business. The Raels are remembering when "lowrider" was a
dirty word in their home. It was 1977, and Olivama and her
children had just moved back to their native New Mexico from
Los Angeles. Mom took a job as a waitress, and
thirteen-year-old Fred began showing an interest in cars.
"When we came to Española, I heard that lowriders were
really bad, and like everybody else, I believed it." Olivama
continues. "But my prayer-book leader asked me if I'd rather
Fred spend his money on liquor and drugs. He said if he spends
his money on his car, it's a blessing in disguise."
As
Fred immersed himself in the how-tos of bodywork, mechanics,
upholstery, and other lowrider luxuries, Olivama slowly
converted to the lowrider faith. By 1983, when she bought Ol's
Diner, a 1950s-style burger joint, she was so enamored with
lowriders that she had Fred install one in the dining
room.
He sawed a
1959 Chevy Bel Air lengthwise in half, painted it cherry red
with a black top, and bolted it to the wall. "A lot of people
think lowriders are immature," Fred says, "but they're an art
form."
Situated on Riverside Drive, Española's main
drag, Ol's is now a popular hangout for lowriders who come
from all over Northern New Mexico to cruise. When Fred's not
navigating his '64 beige Impala convertible - complete with
24-carat gold rims - through city streets, he and Olivama are
at the restaurant enjoying the view.
"When I see
a nice lowrider pass by, it makes my day," Fred says. "But if
it doesn't scrape the pavement, it's not a lowrider. It's just
another car with rims."
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