Austin lowrider Steve Guzman bought his first rig, a candy-apple red Chevy pickup, when he was 22. He’d just come home from serving in Vietnam. Back then, Guzman said, Austin’s lowriders fought bitterly. 

His friend, Manuel Medina, lived in Montopolis, across the river from Guzman’s East Austin neighborhood. Neither would drive across the bridge.

“We had different parts of town,” said Austin rider James Sanchez, and the attitude was, “Don’t come to my side.”

But as Guzman, Medina and Sanchez grew older, Austin’s lowriding scene began to change. The bridge’s boundary grew porous. Families married across the river. As pride in their cars had once kept the neighborhoods apart, the art of lowriding brought them together. 

“Time has healed,” Guzman said. 

The gray in his beard reflected colors from lowriders parked nearby. Today, Guzman, Medina and Sanchez are members of the old guard. Their pride lies as much in their cars as in the next generation of lowriders who, they hope, will inherit them. 

Lowrider clubs proliferated in Texas in the 1960s

On a recent Sunday, lowriders from across Austin and throughout Texas cruised through the capital to celebrate the uniquely Latino tradition. Their rally point was a new exhibit at the Bullock Texas State History Museum.

More: Five reasons to visit the Bullock Museum’s lowriding ‘Carros y Cultura’ exhibit

The exhibit, called “Carros y Cultura,” celebrates Texas lowriders: the art, culture and people.

Lowriding’s origins lie in 1940s California, where the elaborately decorated cars arose as an expression of Latino pride. The culture came to Texas about 20 years later. 

That’s when Austinites, like Steve Guzman’s grandfather, first started putting bags of cement in the trunks of their cars to get closer to the pavement. 

Now, there are close to 100 lowrider clubs in Austin alone, Guzman estimated. 

‘Never did we dream that we would be at the Bob Bullock museum’

About 70 riders from as many as 30 clubs came to show their cars on Sunday, cruising past the Bullock museum, around the Capitol, down South Congress Avenue and across the bridge. Then they posted at Fiesta Gardens’ Chicano Park, in Austin’s Holly neighborhood, to party.  

Lowriders of every shape and size cruised the streets: some richly ornamented, some glowing. Others rolled down South Congress with one wheel cocked high in the air: a maneuver known as “three wheel motion.”

The celebration grew as a way to take “Carros y Cultura” back to the streets, said an adviser for the show, Monica Maldonado. 

Maldonado is the founder of MAS Cultura, a nonprofit dedicated to uplifting Austin’s Latino community through art. Lowriding, she said, was one of her first inspirations.  

“But never did we dream that we would be at the Bob Bullock museum,” she said just before the cruise. A bubble-gum pink lowrider slipped past. Maybe it was the bright sun, reflecting off its paint, but tears began to well in Maldonado’s eyes. 

“I’m here. I’m an Austin native, and to see our culture celebrated and bringing everyone together — there’s really no words for it,” she said, blotting her eyes.

Portraits of families rendered in paint and chrome

Each lowrider tells a story with their car. Many are passed down through generations as family heirlooms: symbols of dedication and reminders of the beauty in perseverance. 

“West Texas” Eddie Velarde, a member of the Majestix Car Club’s San Antonio chapter, has been restoring his 1987 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme for 18 years. 

When he bought the car, his daughter, Selena, was just 6 months old. This year, she graduated from high school. Velarde hopes she’ll inherit the lowrider when he dies, he said, as a memory of his hard work. 

“I look at this car, and it’s a symbol of times when bills went unpaid, when money was short. Life was hard, but we made it.” Velarde said, running his hand over a portrait of his daughter painted on the Oldsmobile’s trunk. 

Paintings of Velarde’s mother, father and wife adorn other panels. He’s dedicated the car to his family, he said: “It’s an extension of who we are.”

Like Velarde, longtime Austin rider Trampia Guzman grew up “in the life,” he said: “I was born to it.”

When Trampia Guzman’s father followed work to fields in the Northeast, he’d call home, asking his young son to rotate the tires on his car. Lowriding was a way of life for them. 

‘This is an art, and it’s miraculous’

The art gave rise to other creations. 

Trampia Guzman’s grandmother taught him to sew when he was 5. He started making zoot suits, a uniquely baggy and square cut style that began among Chicanos from El Paso in the ‘40s. 

Now two of Trampia Guzman’s suits are on display in the Bullock museum’s lowrider exhibit. One of them, cut from shining gold cloth, he made as a memorial to his grandmother. The material came from a set of drapes that had hung in her home all of his life. 

He admired the cloth as a boy, he said: His memory of his grandmother had always been sitting in a chair in front of the golden drapes. Now, he wears the suit each year on the anniversary of her death. 

Stories of love and dedication spring from the lowriders. 

Trampia Guzman’s wife bought him one to restore on their 20th wedding anniversary. He said he cried when he saw the car taken apart for painting; he was so overwhelmed. His friend, who goes simply by “Gizmo,” helped him paint the car.

“This is an art, and it’s miraculous,” Gizmo said, turning his head with a grin. “You see that red car over there?”

He pointed to a pearlescent cherry cruiser, sitting low to the ground. 

“That one got struck by lightning. It almost burnt all the way down, but we saved it.”

Carros y Cultura

When: On display through Sept. 2

Where: The Bullock Texas State History Museum at 1800 Congress Ave.

Info: An exhibit showcasing Texas’ unique lowriding culture, featuring ornately decorated cars, motorcycles and artworks from the Latino community