Issue 17
Big Rig! Part Two: Souped-Up Trucks
By Avraham KarshmerPhotos By Roger Snider
Truckers live everywhere—on every freeway, in nearly every corner of the continent, each of them hauling with them, in addition to their load, their livelihood, a small version of home. Typically, this is just a small sleeper. Many bring along items that make it feel more like home—nice bedding, framed pictures and TVs. But, for some truckers, driving a big rig is more than just a job and a comfortable cot away from home—it is an artistic expression of independence and heritage.
When truckers unions began uniting drivers to stand up for their rights in the early 20th century, they started a tradition that would redefine the role of working-class men in America. The grunts, the drivers, the workers of a burgeoning nation, took pride in their work and demanded respect for their efforts.
That pride still persists today. And for a select but growing few, the big rig itself has become a canvas for drivers to express that pride. These truckers have become artists, as they transform their big rigs into majestic beasts that redefine what it means to take pride in trucking. ’59 Cadillacs, with their big fenders and toothy grills, come to mind when gazing at the plush interiors of these trucks, adorned with stainless steel and chrome. The insides are formatted with glossy wood paneling and flat-screen TVs.
Photographer Roger Snider has been following these rigs for two years. To him, the high-end, souped-up culture is a pure expression of freedom and fantasy, pride and independence. “It’s such an American thing,” Snider explains. “It is bling. It is showy. But it’s a part of these guys’ work. It’s not just bling for bling’s sake. It’s about pride in your occupation as a driver, a lifestyle. It’s moving American folk art.”
So far, this moving art has been localized to those working within the trucking industry. The people who take the time and effort to customize their trucks have typically been driving “loads” for years. Their friends are truckers and, for many of them, their fathers were truckers. But these truckers are artists too. They spend a lot of time and effort, as well as large amounts of money, to outfit their trucks with the most elaborate designs, accessories and customizations.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” says James Davis, a trucker from Medford, Oregon, who drives a tricked-out black-and-orange Peterbilt. Davis has taken a conventional frame and turned it into a smooth, modern luxury automobile—the Rolls Royce of Peterbilts. He had the smoke stacks plated with gorgeous, shimmering chrome and the truck fitted with an extra-low bumper. He also removed the handles and latches, adding to its slick, futuristic look.
Davis has spent more than three times the original purchase price on souping up his truck. In the process, he has become a shrewd designer. “You’ve gotta have the eye,” he says. “Some guys got it. Some guys don’t.” He spends hours looking at pictures of trucks, cars and bikes in various magazines to make sure his look stays unique.
The truck is dedicated to his father, who was a trucker for much of Davis’ childhood. At a hard time in Davis’ life, his father helped him purchase his first truck. Fathers have played an important role in the lives of many of these drivers. Dave White, a trucker from Minnesota, followed in his father’s footsteps when he became a driver. His orange cab-over—a traditional flat-front truck popular in the 1970s—is the same type of truck his dad drove when White was a child. When he talks about his father and his passion for trucking, he speaks in a friendly, humble tone. “I don’t ever remember not riding with my dad,” White says. “Guys look at it as a job. Then they have their hobbies, like hot rod builders. I happen to work with my hobby every day.” He indulges in his passion and adds extras to his truck, regardless of the price.
But the high price isn’t the point, says Snider, the die-hard photographer who’s seen every type of tricked-out rig there is. “It’s about being the best, artistically.” At the highly competitive truck shows, thousands of dollars in custom fittings and hours spent working, buffing and shining come down to a small trophy or a meager check. The spectacle of the second-place winner smashing his trophy in anger is an all-too-common sight, one trucker said. But, for the most part, people’s reactions to these trucks are ones of awe and appreciation.
No outsider voices his appreciation for these fantastic machines louder than Snider. “They’re like heroic, scientific machines,” he says enthusiastically. As a photographer from the world of fashion, he leads a life far different from that of a trucker. Living in a world of art and design, Snider has found what he describes as an intersection between folk art and high design. These souped-up big rigs are his passion now, and he is compiling a book about them. “They’re eye-catching,” Snider says. “But they’re about so much more than bling. They’re about what America could be—honest, hard-working bling.”
And when it comes to bling, no truck says extravagance like Brian Jones’ Bruce Springsteen touring rig. This blue-and-silver machine is decked out with stainless steel on the outside and suede leather and ostrich fur on the inside. This rig is such a rock star among trucks, it’s so perfectly flashy and monstrously eye-catching, that in 2007, Bruce Springsteen hired Jones to haul equipment for his music tour, using the artistic American folk flair to help brand the concerts.
Jones estimates that he’s put about $500,000 into this custom-built stretched-frame truck. From the state-of-the-art sound system to the classic 1930 Ford headlights, 90 percent of this truck had to be custom made. “I’ve always liked having nice things,” Jones says. “I’ve got a matching cycle to go with the truck, too.” And this won’t be the last truck he’ll soup up. “This truck is the best so far,” he says, “but now I own five trucks.”
And while this unique combination of pride and showmanship is perfectly American, Snider is beginning to see that souped-up big rigs are an international phenomenon. “I’m making connections. This thing is a global movement,” he says. Snider recently discovered a very active culture of custom trucks in Japan. Like the American movement, the Japanese big rigs reflect pieces of Japanese culture and identity. This can be seen in the detailed murals on the broad side of these working trucks, which depict traditionally dressed men and women in classic Japanese form. Some Japanese conceptions take on a more futuristic look, with drivers modeling their trucks after popular 1970s and ‘80s cartoons. “They’re futuristic,” Snider affirms. “They look like robots, like the Transformers.” And they do look like Transformers, with warrior-like metallic protrusions that resemble shields and lights embedded in the metal that look like computer components.
For the most part, these American and Japanese trucking cultures have existed simultaneously, almost completely unaware of one another. But people like Snider are helping to bring them together. Europe is his next destination, where he says he expects to find the next piece of the souped-up big rig phenomenon.