Growing up in California, car shows were a semi-regular part of my childhood. But when I arrived in prison in 2014, I never thought I’d see one again.
A decade later, my friend William Mace told me he knew a lot of people from the lowrider community.
“I’m going to put on a car show for the yard,” he said.
Mace worked with the administration and his connections in the lowrider community to put together Echo Yard’s Low and Slow Car Show at Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility in San Diego. The first one was held in 2024.
For Mace, car shows weren’t just a summer activity.
“The lowrider thing was every Sunday,” he said. “Unless it was raining, we were in the parking lot.”
This summer, RJ Donovan hosted the third annual car show. The June 3 event was packed with residents, staffers and multiple San Diego-based car clubs. There were Lincolns, Impalas, Chevys and Oldsmobiles from the 1940s up to the 2000s, many with custom paint jobs. There was even a ’72 tan Toyota hatchback with a gigantic spoiler. Just kidding.
Typically, the first Wednesday of the month is a training and meeting day for staff. But the administration allowed the event to be scheduled on this day and oversaw all the paperwork to make it happen.
“I believe that incarcerated persons should see what life is like,” said Capt. Lewis, a staffer at the prison. “Having something to believe in matters — hope can go a long way.”
The day of the show was hot. The cars were set up on the yard in front of the main building, around the pavement and basketball court area. It was structured the same way as an outside car show: You could walk up to the tape barrier surrounding the cars and talk to the owners. In the background, lowrider oldies played from a DJ booth run by Mace.
Guys excitedly bounced around, lining up to take photos with the cars and talking with the owners about how fast their rides could go. Walking around the event, seeing the joy and laughter, reminded me that few in prison were raised in a happy, safe space. Events like these, aside from inspiring childlike joy and fun, help demonstrate for incarcerated people that there is a real world full of life and community outside.
“It’s a cool experience for you guys, and for us to give you this experience,” said Evelyn, of Fleetsiders Car Club. “These cars take you back to when you were young. You get to go back and swim in these memories.”
Mexican American car culture has been stereotyped as being connected to gangs and drugs, but car shows reveal what these communities are really about: Families and friends gathering together in fellowship and camaraderie.
“The parking lot culture changed my life and showed me that community-building is possible through a gathering of multiple types of people,” Mace said.
Big T, president of San Diego’s Knee Deep Car Club, took Mace in at 17 years old and taught him everything about cars.
“Without him, none of this would have been possible,” Mace said.
“My main purpose for doing this event was to bring the outside world to prison,” said Deanna Garcia, of Game Over Car Club, San Diego. “It brings peace, joy, happiness and family — everybody becomes one.”
Most of us want community and a second chance at a real, normal life. We are fortunate to have people in the outside world like Deanna, Evelyn and the communities they represent on our side. We are also lucky to live on a yard where our administration encourages this real-life mentality.
We are more than just prisoners; we are human beings. Other prison administrations across the country should take note: If you want to turn former criminals into community members, start by showing them what community is.
