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Hittin' the Strip
David
Madrid
Photos by Josh Schmidt
As we crossed the intersection of Alum Rock and Jackson, the sound
of Brenton Wood and the sight of chrome spokes spinning let us know
we were approaching the strip.
Whether
it be a holler from a street corner, getting a number, or showing
off your ride, cruising is at the heart of San Jose culture. Even
if some styles along with some attitudes have changed, the tradition
of cruising and lowriding remain the same despite SJPD and city
policies trying to stop the scene.
In a lot of ways, the lowrider movement was born in San Jose. International
publications like Lowrider Magazine, and cruising music like the
Eastside Story volumes both originate from SJ.
On
an average summer night in San Jo', you can find lifted lowriders,
blinged out SUV's and primer spotted buckets hittin' the strip.
The rides come like waves. Sometimes you'll be ahead of the mob
of cars, and you have to wait for it. Other times you'll pass in
the wrong direction. Sometimes it's so thick you can't get out of
it. Sometimes you just got to slow down and create it.
 Cruising
is all about socializing -- pulling over and kickin' it, or slowing
down to rap to the car next to you. The strip is full of questions
-- "Where's the party?" or "Wa's up?" or just
requests, "Show me your ..." And you have to have skills
in traffic, knowing how to plan ahead of the lights, keeping a steady
pace with the car next to you and looking out for cops.
These
days, it's not just a Chicano thing anymore; the scene is as diverse
as the city. Take Cinco De Mayo for instance, traditionally a Mexican
holiday, yet Blacks, Asians and Whites can be found dippin' up and
down Santa Clara and King. And it's not just the drivers, the rides
have changed too.
From
Tru Spokes to Dubs, the game is high tech now. Back in the day,
all you needed was some shiny hubcaps on your Buick Regal and you
were cool. Now fools got spree wells, booming audio TV's and advanced
hydraulic set-ups that make the cars pop-lock to a new beat.
When
I talk to uncles and older cousins about the cruising scene back
in the day, I hear stories of the El Camino, La Raza Park, and the
Studio West. Some spots still remain even after decades, like First
and Santa Clara St. and King Road. Back then, SJPD would be around
just to keep the peace.
Don't get me wrong, homies still got hassled back in those days,
but finding a parking lot along the strip and kickin' it all night
was cool. Now, with San Jose trying to maintain its image as an
orderly city, it's just a matter of time for cops to come flashing
their lights, making threats and herding cars into the street like
cattle.
Cops have turned the cruising scene into a game of cat and mouse.
Take the checkpoint on First and Santa Clara for instance, which
is essentially a bunch of cops standing in the middle of the street,
profiling the cars stopped at the red light. If you're a carload
of homeboys or flossin' too hard, you're most likely going to get
pulled.
Even with the increased police activity, homies have found ways
to keep cruisin' alive. We take cutty streets to avoid detours and
police road blocks -- intended to lead people off of the strip and
on to the freeway -- turning a simple trip from the east side to
downtown into a mission.
Despite
police threats and the city's policies, cruising is not just senseless
traffic. When it comes down to it, SJ cruising is all about community
building. ItŐs when the people of San Jo' come out and claim the
streets. These are our neighborhoods.
Cruising
even has brought families together. Fathers and sons working together
on their rides have deep roots in the lowrider culture. When I get
together with my family I trip off the photo albums of old cars
and the stories they tell.
As a kid, I can remember going to the Taco Bell on King and Story
on a Friday night with my dad. As we drove up Virginia to make a
left onto King, the Pink elephant parking lot would be filled with
people and mini trucks with beds that danced. All I heard was the
sound of high energy and oldies in the air. As we passed under the
280 freeway, I begged my dad to let me honk the horn.
Now as I watch my younger cousins coming of age, anticipating their
time of hitting the strip, it reminds me of how I was when I was
a youngster. Giving up the Schwinn to get a license is like a rite
of passage for young homies in San Jo.
Seeing them lets me know that despite the city's efforts, the tradition
of cruising and lowriding in San Jo will live on. 
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