The Los Yonkes truck club is a celebration of big trucks, family, and community– whether that’s building a memorial or promoting a new local food truck for free.
“We make a flyer, we do a bunch of stuff, and we say, we’re gonna have a meet here,” says Fernando Sajche, an organizer from the club on a Saturday in late March. It’s the club’s first meet-up of the year.
The Los Yonkes truck club gained local notoriety one-year ago when they rallied to build a memorial to the six construction workers who lost their lives when the Francis Scott Key Bridge collapsed: Carlos Hernández, Miguel Luna, Maynor Yassir Suazo Sandoval, Jose Mynor Lopez, Dorlian Castillo Cabrera, and Alejandro Hernandez Fuentes.
“Yonke” is often used in Spanish as a slang term for “junk.”
Things look somewhat less certain for that kind of community work now. With recent immigration crackdowns, people are now afraid to gather, says Sajche.
“We don't know what kind of people there will be,” Sajche explained, saying some of the club’s members are undocumented. “So I think this year we're gonna do some stuff– but not like last year. We’re going to wait and see how things are.”
About half of the club’s approximately thirty members have gone back to their home countries, fearing detainment by the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), Sajche estimates.
“They say it’s tough over there.” Sajche is still in touch with some people via social media, who recount that it’s difficult back in Mexico to find work.
About sixteen cars from different truck clubs idle in the Glen Burnie parking lot before dinnertime on Saturday; they sport license plates from Pennsylvania, Virginia, and New York, in addition to Maryland.
Oscar Arras, a Los Yonkes member from Columbia, Md., doesn’t think his fellow club members can be scared away for long.
“We try to help each other out. Everybody keeps in contact if something bad does happen, like the whole community finds out,” he says. “They’ll just be cautious about everything. More people will come out later.”
In the hours after the collapse, it just felt natural for the club to do something, Sajche remembered. Many club members were friends and frequent patrons of the Luna family, often stopping by the pupusa truck run by Miguel Luna’s wife, Carmen.
At the Fort Armistead Road exit, where drivers could once join I-695 eastbound to cross the Key Bridge, Sajche, his brother-in-law, and other club members got to work.
“We started doing the crosses, everything. And after that, a lot of people come by and try to help us,” said Sajche.
Soon, people donated construction vests, plastic flowers and flags to hang from the crosses. Benches were constructed for people to sit and pray. Texas-based artist Roberto Marquez painted and designed a mural as tribute.
While the club is no longer responsible for the maintenance of the memorial, it still stands at the intersection of Fort Smallwood and Fort Armistead Roads for visitors to pay their respects.
