A few weeks ago a friend invited me to accompany them on one of Boulder’s most popular Thursday-Night rides. This particular ride meets around seven at night on Thursdays at the Scott Carpenter Park between Colorado Avenue and Arapahoe Avenue on 30th Street, (also known as the Rocket Ship Park on account of the large red metal rocket housed by the playground). Having nothing to do that night, I decided to go along. Although there is usually a theme for this ride, many riders opt to simply dress in their brightest, craziest clothes, flying banners from their bikes and in some instances even pulling couches behind their bikes.
We arrived thirty minutes early to be met by literally hundreds of cyclists. Nearly all of them under eighteen, wearing pigtails and knee-high stockings, bicycles abandoned and off to the side. As we waited for the ride to begin, more high school students piled into the park. It was not long before we, clearly identified as the seniors of the ride, began to be bombarded by shameless (obviously underage) youngsters begging for a variety of illegal substances. Annoyed, we turned scores of them away while waiting for the ride to begin. We had been told that the start of the ride was usually around eight, so when nine o’clock rolled around, I began to lost faith. When some authoritative minor finally stepped up to initiate the ride, less than half of the group even realized what was happening. As we cruised along the bike paths of Boulder towards Eben G. Fine Park, the destination of the ride, our sorry group of one hundred and fifty dwindled to about fifteen riders, most of whom resumed their tireless crusade for alcohol, among other things. Disgusted, we left, never to return again.
My question to you: what happened to The Thursday Night Bike Ride? Are those three hundred high school kids in acid-wash shorts and bikini tops all that remains?
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