Editor’s note: When this was published in last month’s issue of Hagerty Drivers Club magazine, we received quite a few letters from people who felt that we were pushing a particular agenda. As the author of this piece, let me assure you that we have no such intentions. Our goal is to show our readers another kind of automotive enthusiasm. Yes, it’s controversial, and yes, it often falls afoul of the law—but haven’t we all looked back at the “outlaw” days of hot rodding and street racing with approval and even pleasure? I’d ask you to give these fellow enthusiasts a fair hearing. And as always, thank you for reading this site and for sharing our love of cars. — Jack Baruth
They call him “D-one Tha Chosen,” and his music today resonates through the streets of Houston and beyond. But back in 1996, he was just a 10-year-old witnessing the raw power of a Houston Slab Car firsthand. Sitting inside a candy-apple-red 1986 Lincoln Town Car, he watched as the window of a fried-chicken restaurant vibrated and shattered from the intense bass of four 18-inch subwoofers. This was his introduction to the world of slab cars.
“Pat Lemon owned that car first,” D-one recalls, years later. “Darryl Williams—the man who was like a father to me—he had just gotten out of jail. So I was riding with him and Pat Lemon. We pulled up to Frenchy’s in the Third Ward. Pat popped the trunk… and I swear, when those 18s hit, they took out the whole front window of Frenchy’s.” D-one, a charismatic figure in flawless street style, recounts the story from his southwest Houston office where he manages artists and music. “That 1986 Town Car,” he explains, “it was one of the first slab cars that really made an impact.”
The Town Car’s striking red paint wasn’t just for show; it was a deliberate statement. The owner’s affiliation with the Crips gang, unusual as it was in Houston where they “rode red” instead of the traditional blue associated with the Crips in Los Angeles, made the car a rolling symbol. Combined with “swanger” wire wheels, it became a double provocation in a city grappling with crack-fueled gang violence.
In that era, owning such a car was fraught with danger. Beyond the ever-present threat of gang violence, carjacking was rampant. Thieves would steal slab cars for their valuable parts, discarding the owners like trash. For a young boy like D-one, being in such an environment was risky, yet it was also captivating. The allure of the streets, the cars, the music – it was a powerful force. “We rode in that car all day,” D-one remembers, “and that was the day I fell in love with it all. The slab cars, the music – it all started with that 1986 Town Car.”
Defining a “slab car” precisely has been a point of discussion since they first emerged on Houston’s streets. Some say “slab” is an acronym for “Slow, Loud, and Bangin’.” However, the origin is more literal: a slab car is a customized vehicle meant to be showcased cruising on the concrete slabs of Houston freeways. While sharing stylistic elements with lowriders and pimpmobiles, the slab car is distinct. It’s about being seen and heard. It’s a unique expression, instantly recognizable, and a declaration of personal style. Like a modern coat of arms, the slab car is a symbol of street royalty.
D-one survived that formative day and the turbulent years that followed. Tragically, Pat Lemon, the original owner of that iconic Lincoln, was killed shortly after that day with D-one. The car then passed to Houston rapper Fat Pat, making an appearance in his “Tops Drop” music video, a red slab amongst a collection of Eldorados, Broughams, and Buick Regals, all sporting the signature swanger wheels. These extended chrome spokes pushed boundaries, claiming space on the road.
In February 1998, Fat Pat was also fatally shot. The car’s next owner, reportedly another local rapper, met a similar violent end. “After that,” D-one recounts, “it sat on Wyoming and South Park for a while. But… they burned it. It was considered a death car. Everyone who owned it was shot.” This marked the end of arguably the most infamous early slab car. Yet, the slab car culture was only just beginning its ascent.
The Genesis of Slab Style
The slab car aesthetic can be traced back to the 1983 Cadillac Eldorado. This downsized luxury coupe, initially a success after its 1979 redesign, started to lose its luster by 1983. Recognizing their clientele’s taste, some Cadillac dealership accessory managers partnered with Cragar to create a special version of their “Star” wire wheel for the 1983 Eldorados.
These weren’t mere wire wheel covers. The Cragar wheels allowed onlookers to see the Eldorado’s four-wheel disc brakes, and crucially, the wheel centers protruded significantly, about 4 inches beyond the rim and tire. This “poke” gave the wheels a distinct presence, visible from all angles. They became a hit. For 1984, Cragar returned with a slightly modified design and even more “poke.” However, the factory option ceased after 1984, likely due to the complexities of servicing third-party tubeless wire wheels. As these Cragar-equipped Eldorados entered the used car market, their unique wheels became highly sought after on urban streets.
Houston, fueled by seemingly endless oil wealth, was a prime market for Cadillacs. Loaded models flowed from showrooms to affluent homes and eventually to the streets. Many dealers further customized these cars with neoclassic touches, like Rolls-Royce-inspired grilles (often featuring intertwined “C” letters and the phrase “CLASSIC – CADILLAC”) and faux Continental kits with fiberglass spare tire humps on the trunk.
The oil boom gave way to a bust, coinciding with the rise of crack cocaine in Houston. Drug dealers, mirroring the pimps of 1970s New York City who favored customized “El Dogs,” gravitated towards these elaborately styled 1980s Eldorados. These ’83 and ’84 models, with their Cadillac prestige, “elbows-out” wire wheels, and Continental kits, became the original slab cars, setting the standard for the next decade.
“To be a true slab car,” D-one emphasizes, “it almost has to be a Cadillac.” Early slabs were often Eldorado Biarritz models, though the signature stainless-steel Biarritz roof was frequently replaced with convertible tops or faux-convertible fabric coverings. Full-size C-body Cadillacs, especially the 1990–92 Brougham with its distinctive flush-mounted headlights, were also popular. The “Brougham nose” was so desirable that custom shops began grafting them onto other GM cars. While a direct swap on B- and C-body models, fitting it to the narrower E-body Eldorado and Seville required skilled modifications to maintain proportions.
At Houston slab car gatherings, the sheer number of cars with Brougham front ends can be disorienting to Cadillac enthusiasts. Rows of cars appear to be 1992 Broughams until closer inspection reveals them to be Eldorado convertibles, Coupe de Villes, or even Oldsmobile Ninety-Eights. When asked about the prestige of a flawless Brougham conversion on a Ninety-Eight versus an original Cadillac, D-one is clear: “It’s got to be the real thing for me. The rest is just trying to mimic the Cadillac style.”
By the early 2000s, a thriving cottage industry of small customization shops emerged, specializing in candy paint and Continental kits. Typically, customers sourced components and moved their cars between shops for different stages of customization – paint at one, upholstery at another, and so on. The journey to a finished slab car was often piecemeal, progressing as funds became available.
A crucial element of any slab car was its sound system, ideally showcased in a trunk that opened hydraulically, revealing a plexiglass display of amplifiers and speakers. Personalized messages under the trunk lid became common, ranging from boastful (“UR DREAMS – MY REALITY”) to territorial (“SOUTH BANK STILL STUNTIN”) or even reflective (“IT DON’T HURT TO FORGIVE”). The final touch was selecting the right set of wheels.
Original Cragar Star wheels from the ’83 and ’84 Eldorados became incredibly valuable, far exceeding the cars they originally adorned. Estimates suggested only around 50 sets were still in circulation by the early 2000s. Owning a set of “83s” or “84s,” as they were known by their production year, was a status symbol rivaling that of rappers or athletes. However, it also put owners at risk. Houston’s murder rate in those years was three times the national average, and the scarcity of these wheels fueled deadly conflicts. The limited supply and murderous demand were unsustainable.
“We Took the Bus to a P.O. Box”: The Swanger Crisis and Innovation
Eddie Kennedy, owner of 3rd Coast Customs, has been in the car customization business for over three decades. His shop, nestled in a residential area, is known for exceptional work, particularly Brougham conversions. He explains the challenge of sourcing parts: “The parts are so hard to get that I started fabricating my own fiberglass fascia and stainless-steel grilles. But you still need the headlights, and they’re $1500 each in any junkyard that still has them.”
Kennedy was also central to resolving the “Swanger Crisis.” “There was an older guy here rechroming the 83s and 84s, but he couldn’t keep up,” Kennedy recalls. “By 1998, you could be killed just for owning a set. Regular people couldn’t own these wheels safely. It was outlaw territory. Even dealers had to ride in groups for protection, often painting their cars the same color to signal affiliation.”
The Swanger Crisis took a turn in 2007 when Texan Wire Wheels began producing steel replicas of the original Cragar wires. Kennedy heard rumors and tracked down a P.O. Box in California. He took a bus there and waited until the contact retrieved their mail, establishing himself as Texan Wire Wheels’ first dealer. “We sold the first 10 sets of wheels,” he remembers. “It was almost like a black market.” The replicas eased the deadly demand for original Cragars, as slab car enthusiasts embraced the new, bolder Texans. People outside of criminal circles began building slab cars, opting for neutral colors or colors associated with regions rather than gangs.
Over time, “poke” evolved through iterations like Super, Extreme, Orangatang, and Giraffe, with Giraffe poke reaching an astonishing 24 inches of extension, adding four feet to a car’s width. “I’m 50 this year, and I don’t care for the 15-inch and 24-inch poke,” Kennedy admits. “They damage cars in traffic. But the younger generation wants the longest poke, at the highest price. Ten thousand dollars for Giraffe poke.”
The high cost and current scarcity of extreme swangers are creating new pressures. “Pay me now, maybe you could get them in October, but probably not,” a salesman admitted in summer 2021. Driving slab cars, especially with extreme poke wheels, is becoming risky again. “Riding one-deep” is increasingly dangerous, and the excessive width is drawing police attention. Tickets and car confiscations are on the rise. “And once they impound your car,” D-one points out, “you might not get it back. Titles are often outdated in Houston. The registered owner might be someone from 20 years ago. They aren’t going to bail your car out.”
New School Slabbers: Generational Evolution
Slab car culture, like hot-rodding before it, faces familiar challenges: police scrutiny, parts scarcity, and generational divides. Original slabbers, now in their 40s to 60s, maintain a purist view. For them, a slab car is a Cadillac on ’84-style wire wheels with a Continental kit, Vogue whitewall tires, and candy paint in their crew’s color. (In Houston, “clique” is often spelled phonetically as “click,” as in the pioneering hip-hop group Screwed Up Click, or S.U.C.).
However, a new generation is pushing boundaries, redefining what a slab car can be. While wheels, sound systems, and a flashy attitude remain essential, younger enthusiasts have adapted to the scarcity of older GM models. They’ve embraced W-body Impalas, LaCrosses, and Grand Prixs as slab platforms. When those became harder to find, they turned to late-model Chrysler 300s and Dodge Chargers. Eddie Kennedy was working on a two-year-old Cadillac XTS during our interview, featuring candy-purple paint, a motorized Continental kit, “Goober Grape” redyed leather interior, and 15-inch poke Texans with Vogues. Even Kennedy hesitates to call it a traditional slab car. “I guess,” he sighs, “this is what people are seeing as a slab nowadays.”
Compared to the imposing presence of ’83 Eldorados and ’90 Broughams, new-generation slabs built on XTS or Charger platforms might seem less significant to purists. However, such a view misses the point of cultural evolution.
Every automotive subculture faces a turning point: become a museum piece or evolve. The blues, fixed in a nostalgic past, appeals to those with historical perspective. Hip-hop, constantly changing and sometimes messy, remains relevant and alive. Houston’s slab car culture is a unique form of automotive enthusiasm. It’s unconventional, challenges traditional aesthetics, and has a complex history. Yet, the arrival of a slab car in Houston’s Third Ward in 2021 carries the same electrifying energy as Pat Lemon’s arrival at Frenchy’s in 1996. Slab car culture, born from tragedy and controversy, remains undeniably vibrant and alive, its future as enigmatic as the tinted windows of an Impala slab cruising the streets.
