His bikes are low, slow and fancy. Meet the artist building lowriders in Lebanon

Pedro Cartagena, 31, had wanted a lowrider since he could remember. Seeing them in West Coast hip-hop music videos, it was something that had always stuck in the back of his head.

He could remember early when he'd moved to Lebanon from Brooklyn, over 20 years ago, seeing one in the city that made his jaw drop. It was the first one he had seen in real life. Then it was gone like a phantom. He never saw it again.

Lowrider bikes first became popular on the West Coast, particularly in 1960s Los Angeles, a byproduct of the lowrider car movement that cropped up a decade earlier. Both are still today largely influence by Mexican-Americans. Kids who weren't old enough to drive and certainly couldn't afford the pricey modifications instead used their bikes as tools of artful expression. They're low, usually built out from a Schwinn style bike frame, and they're flashy.

Cartagena considers lowriders as a form of outsider art, the low and slow function of the bikes mean that they're seen, making everything put on the bikes a form of expression. Each bike says something. A lot of his bikes represent his heritage, half Puerto Rican and half Mexican.

Eight years ago, while he was working a delivery job, Cartagena got a call from a friend.

"He hits me up like, 'Hey, I seen a lowrider bike, it's in the store right here. I guess they're selling it,'"

Between deliveries, he stopped by the shop and asked what they wanted for it. He rushed to his parents' house to smash his piggy bank, then to the real bank, where he took out more money. Even that wasn't enough. But after haggling a bit, the bike was his.

Getting into lowriders has changed his life for the better, he said, granting him perspective on art and community.

"It gave me more things to do in life," he said, "Like going to events, or coming home after work and going straight to the garage. My friends call me, 'Hey you wanna go out?' I'm like no I've got a project I'm doing, you know what I mean. It changed a lot, it changed a lot for me. It just opened my eyes to art."

Since then, Cartagena has bought or built 35 other bikes, many of which have since changed hands, while some are kept. That original bike, he said, is something he would never part with.

Even for the most basic custom lowrider, prices start at the $350-$450 range, but the more intricate a bike is the more money that goes into it, and prices can quickly get into the $1,000 area.

"Some people tell me man, 'I wanna bike, how much?' Well, I gotta order this, this, this for you, and when I tell them the price they'll be like, 'Woah, alright man. I'll hit you up later.'"

A lowrider is a living art piece, he explained. No matter how many hours you've put into one, there's always something new to add.

Cartagena sources parts for his bikes from all over, whether that be someone from California that produces specialty accents or rusted wheels from friends or Facebook Marketplace, and they are put together in the garage behind his house where between working as a cook at Heisey's Diner and being a father he spends much of his free time.

Jesus Juarez, 39, has two bikes from Cartagena, one that he bought and another that he had extensive work done on.

Growing up, he similarly obsessed with lowrider bikes, but said it was nearly impossible to get one on the East Coast.

"My cousin had one in Reading and it was like a show, everyone wanted that bike," he said. "He brought it from California when he moved out here and everyone wanted that bike."

Juarez commended Cartagena's efforts and dedication to bring lowriders to the area, along with his focus on community events. Above all, he said, Cartagena really knows his stuff when it comes to lowriders.

So much so that Juarez plans to refer to him on his newest project, converting a truck into a lowrider.

"He tries to get out in the community to support children, the kids, to put their mindset towards something, he tries to help out. He tries his best," he said. "It would be nice if more people would support him and back him up on what he's trying to do."

A large part of what Cartagena is doing involves fanning the flames of the lowrider culture. On his Facebook, Chino Bicicleta, he organizes and promotes rides and shows in Central and Eastern Pennsylvania. On his Youtube, he posts videos of himself unboxing parts and working on bikes.

His most recent ride was held at City Island in Harrisburg, and while only a handful of people showed up, it's more about having a good time together. He hopes to start holding rides in different locations all over Pennsylvania at least once a month.

His goal now is to create his own organization for the youth of Lebanon, to teach them not only the culture and nuances of building and detailing a lowrider, but things as simple as changing a tire or inner tube.

That desire comes from his own childhood, always riding bikes and obsessed with the lowrider style, but never able to get his hands one. He sees that same interest from the community when he rides his bikes now - young kids blown away by the moving art piece, often asking for pictures.

He doesn't want those kids to have to wait the same way he did. His dream is to have Sunday night cruises through the city.

"We're all getting older, and I don't wanna feel older," he said. "I still wanna feel like I'm a kid again. I don't feel like I'm an old person like that. I wanna feel like I'm a kid again, cause all we're doing is getting old."

"When I ride a bike it's like freedom, riding around, feeling the air, the wind. Smelling the fresh air and just being out there."

Daniel Larlham Jr. is a reporter for the Lebanon Daily News. Reach him at DLarlham@LDNews.com or on Twitter @djlarlham

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This article originally appeared on Lebanon Daily News: This Lebanon PA artist is all about building lowriders