Photo by Michael J. GallegosTribune

Tribune

Mike Weber (bottom left) takes lunch orders from construction workers at the Full of Bull roadside kitchen operated from a renovated RV in Placitas. Owner Kevin Sewell, the cook and business operator, started the business a few weeks ago after leaving the construction business. "After one week parked up the road, we decided it was time to renovate," Sewell said.

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You've seen them on empty dirt lots scattered around the city. You've seen them parked at construction sites. You've seen them on the sides of the highway during a road trip.

They are the merchants of random goods and the servers of miscellaneous meals. Some have simple pushcarts while others are elaborate mobile restaurants, but all share the same place in business lore: They are roadside vendors.

On a small plot of land off U.S. 165 in Placitas, a small adobe hut sits next to a green and silver RV.

Inside the Full of Bull BBQ & Catering RV, Kevin Sewell is standing over a sizzling cut of rib-eye and saut‚ing a handful of peppers and onions on a hot grill while his business partner, Mike Weber, writes down orders from hungry construction workers.

A few feet away inside the Sip Õn Go adobe hut, Wayne Sandoval is busy blending a frozen mocha coffee drink for a drive-through customer.

Together, the two roadside vendors are a food and beverage duo serving everything from a cappuccino to a rack of ribs.

"It's a venture for both of us," said Sandoval, owner and operator of Sip 'n Go. "We're both going to benefit from being next to each other."

In Albuquerque, there are 82 permitted full-service mobile food units. Exact figures for all roadside vendors are difficult to come by because some operate without proper licenses. Merchant roadside vendors who don't sell food need only to purchase a business registration permit like all businesses in New Mexico, however, so there is no specific tally for those that sell on a roadside.

Zoning the roadside

When Full of Bull first opened for business at the beginning of March, Sewell, 53, and Weber, 43, parked on the side of U.S. 165, something transportation officials in Sandoval County didn't appreciate.

"We were permitted by the Health Department, but apparently we were in the wrong place," Sewell said. "On a busy day, we'd have a parking lot out here."

Richard Dineen, Albuquerque's planning director, said public safety can often be an issue with roadside vendors.

"It can be a dangerous thing to be roadside," he said. "Gawking out the window could mean you running into the guy in front of you. Or sometimes people pull off too fast and can cause an accident."

The other part of being a roadside vendor is ensuring you're operating on a properly zoned lot. In the case of Full of Bull, Sewell and Weber had simply set up on noncommercially zoned land.

To remedy the problem, the Full of Bull RV was moved to its current location on a commercial plot shared by Sip Õn Go. Now Sewell and Sandoval split rent, water and electricity costs.

Navigating the bureaucratic web of permits and zoning regulations is all part of being a roadside vendor, and the rest of the time is spent streamlining operations, managing overhead and building a business - literally, for some like Sewell and Weber.

Kitchen on wheels

From the outside, the Full of Bull RV looks like a normal 1992 Safari motor coach with the exception of a conspicuous metal contraption protruding from the roofline.

Step inside the former vacation cruiser and you're surrounded by enough stainless steel to fill a modern industrial kitchen.

Starting in July, Sewell and Weber spent the following eight months gutting the RV to make space for everything from a meat smoker to a deep freezer.

"We rewired it, re-plumbed and redid the gas lines for starters," said Weber, who has worked with Sewell for the past three years in the construction industry. "The tricky part was getting everything to run off the generator and propane tank."

With more than 50 years of construction experience between them, Sewell and Weber even took it upon themselves to install an industrial fan over the three grills, cut a six foot skylight in the roof to lower the appliances using a crane, and even put a pizza oven over the engine compartment."Best part is we can pull the jacks and in 10 minutes be on the road to cater an event," Weber said.

Despite only being open for less than a month, the Full of Bull RV is already scheduled to appear at two outdoor events in the coming months.

Sewell recalls considering the idea of becoming a "roach coach," as he refers to them.

"I'd be doing my construction, and I'd see these people come and pull 70 bucks from us at lunch," he said. "I thought that was a great idea."

For the past 13 years Ricardo and Marlene Mondragon lived that idea of being roadside vendors as owners of Marlene's New Mexican Food Inc., serving everything from tamales to chorizo burritos out of a similarly converted RV.

"We really get busy with construction workers, and we always sell more during the summer months," Ricardo Mondragon said.

The Mondragons lease their location at Alameda Boulevard and Washington Street Northeast in Albuquerque and store their food in a commercial building overnight. With two employees and a never-ending need for supplies, Ricardo said overhead is a large cost.

"We bring in more than $100,000 a year, but you don't keep that," he said. "We pay rent, employees, electricity and cell phones we use for orders."

Aside from paying bills, buying food and paying wages the Mondragons also wake up at 3:30 a.m. every Monday through Friday to prep food and open by five.

Easter baskets and chile pods

While mobile food vendors like the Mondragons and Sewell and Weber are on the elaborate side of roadside vending, there are smaller operations that are notorious for defining the industry with their bootstrap entrepreneurial tactics.

Parked in an empty lot along Isleta Boulevard in the South Valley, Bernadette Bejarano dangles her feet out the back of her white Sport Utility Vehicle.

Set up in front of her is a small metal table covered with various sized baskets filled with Easter-themed goodies ranging from candy to stuffed bunnies. Stapled to a telephone pole above the table is a handwritten sign that simply reads "Easter baskets."

With nearly $300 invested in her Easter bounty, Bejarano is hoping to at least double her return, a feat she accomplished during the week of Valentine's Day when she made more than $600.

Before finding an interest in roadside vending, Bejarano was a home day care provider for 30 years, something of which she became tired and decided to switch it up.

"I really enjoy making the baskets and being out in the fresh air all day," she said.

It's vendors like Bejarano that Dineen advises his zoning enforcers about.

"The small mobile setups are usually mom and pop and don't know all of our restrictions," he said. "If we don't get them, it's mushroom time. You have one and then a dozen."

Mel Chavez knows the permit and zoning routine. For 20 years he's sold baskets of chile, bushels of corn, bags of beans and bunches of zucchini out of the back of his pickup in a parking lot along Isleta.

"I pay my health permits to the city and rent to the owner here," he said. "I know the game."

It's noon and Sewell plops a tray stacked high with freshly smoked ribs on a prep counter. Ceiling-mounted speakers pump out classic rock while outside a trio of pickups full of construction workers surrounds the Full of Bull RV.

"Don't get me wrong, this is hard work," Sewell said. "But how could life get more fun than this, a guy doing barbecue all day."