The Dodge Charger fired up its V8 Hemi engine, a deep hum echoing through the Ford City Mall parking lot as smoke billowed from its rear wheels.
Draco stepped on the gas and turned the steering wheel, causing the Charger to spin—or drift—in a tight circle to the applause and cheers of more than 100 people.
“It’s adrenaline – it’s hard to explain – but in that moment you feel free,” said Draco, the name the 21-year-old uses in the street bum circle. “You know, this is one of the few moments where I feel like I’m in control of my destiny.”
A Sun-Times reporter and photographer spent several weekends at these gatherings, which have long been a source of complaints of noise, disorder and danger.
They are often organized in minutes through a social network that is tied to street racing culture. Many times people leaving a gathering that has been broken up by the police will drive around until they receive the coordinates of another gathering that same night.
And despite recent crackdowns that may have cost participants their cars, there is no shortage of drivers or spectators.
“I love everything we do”
Draco went to competitions even before he got his driver’s license. He fell in love watching his older brother ride them. Cars and street stunts took over his life even as his brother retired from the stage and encouraged him to do the same.
“It’s the older brother who wants to protect the younger one, you know, but I like to clean my hands of grease after working on the machine,” Draco said. “I love everything we do.”
This is a story that has played out in Chicago for decades. Lower Wacker Driver was a big weekend hangout for uprated four-cylinders until they were put to rest by speed bumps a few years ago.
Meetings are scattered throughout the city, now to the annoyance of residents and their elders, large muscle cars are being drawn to industrial parks, to empty mall parking lots, and sometimes even downtown.
“In 2016, people just burned out or raced but didn’t really do it,” Draco said. “Then COVID closed everything so car meetings were almost dead, but it has since come back strongly and people started taking over and blocking the streets.”
“It’s a deadly hobby”
One such takeover took place last month at the intersection of Clinton and Monroe Streets in the West Loop. Traffic in all directions was blocked by improvised barriers. The teenager was accused of throwing fireworks at the police.
The resulting negative media repercussions – with video – led the City Council to authorize the Chicago Police Department to confiscate vehicles involved in street stunts. The police must send a “notice of intent to confiscate” to the owner, along with a statement of probable cause and a police report.
A Chicago police spokesman did not say if any vehicles have since been impounded. People at the latest events also did not know about any arrests.
Old. Brendan Reilly (42)th) led efforts to drive drag racers and drifters out of Lower Wacker, and he was one of the most vocal supporters of the detention order.
“After the ordinance passed, we saw some improvements downtown,” Reilly said. “We can’t directly link this to the ordinance being passed, but I think what’s come out is that Chicago has a very tough ordinance on the books right now.”
Reilly said the street bums know that if their car is caught on video, the Chicago police will have a reason to stop them.
“Over time, we will find your car parked on a city street and just tow it. And when you want to return it, you can pay the city $5,000,” Reilly said. “It’s a deadly hobby and it has no place on the streets of our city.”
He mentioned a 20-year-old man who was killed while drag racing his best friend on Lower Wacker Drive.
“It’s only a matter of time before another accident happens,” Reilly said. “If people choose to continue to break these laws, we plan to make them public examples while strictly adhering to the new regulation.”
Draco, who wore a black ski mask to hide his identity from the police, said the ruling was meant to happen but did little to stop the gatherings. Most of the drivers seen at recent events have removed their license plates.
“What I think about the mystery is that I don’t blame them because I understand what’s going on,” Draco said. “It’s okay to have fun and be safe like we usually do, but a couple of weeks ago, some contacted the police and fought them and threw fireworks at them, so when you do that, of course it’s crap. – will definitely happen with the decree.
“We are not bad people”
Earlier this month, Dee and Jojo were on a date near Cermak Road and Lumber Street, standing shoulder to shoulder and watching the cars drift in figure eights. They asked not to be named.
“We’re not bad people,” Jojo said. “Every person here has a common interest, which is to chat and see cars that they really like.”
“I think there’s a misconception about these meetings that they’re noisy and uncivilized, but what we’re really trying to do is follow the safety rules,” Dee added. “Everyone is trying to emphasize safety and there are group chats and Instagram pages that encourage everyone to drive safely.”
People like Dee and JoJo rely on social media platforms like Snapchat, Instagram, and even the encrypted messaging app Telegram.
Both drivers and spectators wait for coordinates, update their apps, and then rush to the venue before the police break up the event.
When a corner of the street fills up with cars, those in the back form a barricade to prevent the police from breaking through. A circle is formed, marked by a pit for drifting cars.
For the next 15-20 minutes, cars take turns spinning in tight circles, sometimes passengers lean out of the window to the applause of the crowd.
Sometimes when the police arrive, the officers are unable to drive their cars through the barricade and are forced to walk. They can write tickets for illegally parked cars or monitor the action until it’s dissolved, but participants say they haven’t received any tickets for participating.
As soon as the police are spotted, onlookers run to their cars before driving off. Many of them ply around the city until the next message arrives. This cycle repeats until 2 am or later.
The woman who asked to come in the morning said she had only been attending these meetings for three months. She and the others stood in the center of the pit as the car drifted around them.
“We just love being here and relaxing,” AM said. “It’s a gear change from our normal daily lives, so it’s fun.”
