One to get Tacos

10,000 TACOS®

Welcome to our fourth season of 10,000 Tacos!

While we were away, we lost a sail of our podcast. Juan Salas, my father, took his last breath on May 12, 2020. This podcast is about him, my mother, and my siblings. This podcast is a collection of stories and experiences around how growing up in a taco truck shaped the wonderful life I have today.

This podcast is a tribute to them, my parents.

In honor of his passing, we are dedicating this season to what we call "The Friendship Economy." My parents practiced this way of living, and it helped shape how I view this world. Empathy, compassion, discipline, and accountability are some examples of what the Friendship Economy looks like and how it works.

This season, we will share some stories around the Friendship Economy and how it plays out in our community.

We hope you can get some inspiration and direction as to how you can practice it.

As COVID -19 has impacted our planet and our way of living, we, too, were indirectly affected. Because of this pandemic, we could not celebrate my father's passing in the way we preferred.

I chose this episode to give my father's eulogy.

Here is his Eulogy:

Juan Salas, that was my father's name.

He was born in Zacatecas, Mexico, in 1936. He was a father to eight children, three from his first marriage, and five from my mother.

My dad grew up in a small family size business. My grandmother operated a local butcher shop back when he was a kid. It was there, where I believe, he learned the many cuts of meats and preparation techniques that would enable him to make those kick-ass tacos that I grew up eating and ultimately selling.

In his early years, he was an amateur cyclist. In his late teens and early 20s, he took part in what was called la Vuelta Ciclista de Mexico, which was a big event for cycling.

In his early professional career, he was a civil engineer in the public sector. He traveled throughout Mexico as part of his job. I believe that it was then when he discovered his love to drive around, getting to know place after place just to wander and be adventurous. He used to refer to it as "a Puro Conocer." It was exercising curiosity. To me, it was basically - not fear the unknown-

This was a tremendous attribute to have, which would later help him explore his own journey to the States.

In the spring of 1978, he went to California to find work. Later that fall, he sent for his wife, my mom, and their four children, including me. Nine short months later, though, their fifth child was born. I don't know. Do the math.

The following year, in 1980, he purchased our first food truck, our first taco truck, our first catering truck. With that truck, he set off on his entrepreneurial journey, along with my mom and my siblings. This is where we got started. With that truck, my dad gave us a front-row seat to how Silicon Valley was evolving - from orchards of the Santa Clara Valley to the bustling high-tech buildings and the freeways known today.

Now, people call it street food. Today, it's trendy to get street food. People love it.

They weren't calling it street food back then, at least in friendly terms.

Street food was always popular in major cities like New York, Los Angeles, Mexico City, and in many parts of busy Metropolitan places where somebody just sets up a little cart and start selling this type of food. And it's great!

He wasn't the first. But back then, here in San Jose, you did not see a lot of taco trucks on every corner.

I believe he helped usher homemade Mexican food to the mainstream, and I believe he deserves a little bit of credit for that.

He would go anywhere with that truck. He would go to construction sites, office buildings, schools, universities, and even police academies.

For a while, for a long while, he would provide lunch and dinner for many of the cadets who were going through the San Jose Police Academy, back when it was being held at Evergreen Valley College in the east foothills of beautiful San Jose, California.

And on weekends, he would go to the nightclubs and not to dance. No, no, no, not to dance or get his drink on. He would go out to those nightclubs, to go sell tacos and burritos. And we sold a lot of them.

My dad, he finally retired in 2006. When he was about 70 years old.

If there is one thing I would say about my dad, it would be this:

He was a devoted husband first. My dad, he truly loved my mom. He was not afraid to admit that she was his trophy wife. He would do anything for her.

He was also a father who loved nothing more than to be surrounded by his children and his grandchildren.

He was an awesome, funny, and very welcoming person. Anybody he met for the first time, they would get what he would infamously call, "How are you?" - with his heavy accent. Those are the very first words he learned when he came to America. And he would call it by its name, "El How are you?"

How are you? He cared.

My dad didn't set the bar that high. I could only imagine being born to a rocket scientist, right? I'd say, "Oh man, how the F@#% am I gonna top that!"

Nah - My dad did not set the bar high. But he did not set the bar low either. My dad was a very good friend to many people.

And he was a badass TAQUERO!

In 2013 he was diagnosed with End of life Renal Kidney disease, and he was given up to two years to live.

His endurance, his grit, the love from his family, and - lastly - the care from his beloved wife, we believe, allowed him to outlive the two years he was given initially to live.

He left us on May 12, 2020.

We believe that there are two lines in heaven right now.

One is to get in, and the other is to get TACOS!

TAQUOTE: ""(intentionally left blank – It's in his eulogy)