When Riding Your Bike Becomes a Crime

Every town has its traditions. Here, in Boulder, Colorado we are no different. We have the Bolder Boulder; the country’s largest 10K run where more than 40,000 runners crowd the streets, the Boulder Creek Festival, complete with artisans, street performers and a rubber duck race. Every May we enjoy Kinetics, a beer-soaked race across Boulder Reservoir in outlandish human-powered boats.

My favorite festive event occurs here every Thursday night all year, rain or shine. It’s not advertised or exploited, but its often maligned. It’s the Boulder Cruzer Ride, a group of riders who join every Thursday night just for the fun and love of old bikes. There is no entrance fee or forms to fill out, Lycra and racing bikes aren’t allowed, you just bring a smile and an old bike. This is not your ordinary festival; this is a rolling party.

The Boulder Cruzers are not to be confused with a Critical Mass ride. These riders aren’t trying to convince you of their stand on politics or the environment. They’re just having fun. Maybe other less bike friendly towns would take issue with 200 riders in outlandish costumes on vintage bikes beating on drums, singing, and dragging trailers with full stereo systems, but supposedly, here in Boulder the bicycle rules.

We have countless miles of bike friendly paths and local employers offer incentives to employees who chose a bike instead of a gas engine as their method of commute. The Cruzers are not riding to make a statement—they ride to spread smiles.

A typical Cruzer ride starts at a local bike shop on 27th Street. There the riders gather to shouts of “Happy Thursday.” Here you can be anything you want. You might see your banker dressed as a hippie or a stripper. This is a place to drop the mundane and be a kid again. There are hot chicks in fuzzy lavender bikinis, a skinny guy wearing nothing but a leopard print Speedo, and a variety of kids in trailers, yuppies, costumed bumblebees, grizzled white hairs and college students. There are some riders who may be a bit too full of cheer, and the water bottles don’ always contain water.

This eclectic group comes together to ride for the motto, “One speed is all you need.” As the crowd grows in size the night’s leader brandishes the megaphone, “Let’s RIDE!” The bikes head slowly out, drums beating, music playing and old-fashioned bicycle bells ring out in the warm summer breeze.

Here in Boulder, most inhabitants seem to tolerate and even enjoy the Thursday night shenanigans. The Cruzer’s ride on bike paths and alleyways, trying to avoid the traffic and the inevitable conflicts that can occur when more than 200 bicycles compete for space with traffic. However, cars stop at intersections, honking their horns, the drivers leaning out to scream, “Happy Thursday!” Families picnic on their lawns in anticipation of the Cruzer parade.

Unfortunately, every party seems to have its wet blanket and here in Boulder our party pooper is the Boulder Police Department. Despite support from the community; apparently a group of this size, even when bonded together in the name of fun, are a menace to society.

Last summer, on a perfect July evening, I joined my boyfriend Rod for our weekly Cruzer adventure. We were fully equipped in silly hats, water bottles and some wine to enjoy at the park where open containers are allowed. We rode our 1961 Sears tandem, purchased that summer at the local Crap Fest in nearby Lyons. We rode our one geared, bent forked, coaster-braked monster through town in the middle of the masses. It was heaven, but that night we had extra guests.

The Boulder Police Department had deployed fully half their force to make sure we all behaved. We were cut off at intersections by bike cops, patrol cars, and motorcycle cops. On a residential street, devoid of traffic, I watched as one poor girl, no more that 12, was pulled over by one of our local heroes for riding more than 2 abreast. She was scared and in tears, but I’m sure the officer felt proud for doing his civic duty.

We arrived at North Boulder Park, and in accordance to open container laws I cracked the beverage. We talked quietly and laughed as we checked our lights and enjoyed cycling’s wonderful camaraderie. We were approached by two of Boulder’s finest, one male and one female officer, adorned in Lycra and badges. The female told the male to leave us alone, but this guy was on a mission. According to the officer we had made the mistake of coming to an incomplete stop at a sign six blocks earlier. I listened as this officer of the law read Rod a riot act for coming to a “rolling stop”. I nearly choked on my cabernet when the officer asked his occupation. “I do public relations for the bicycle industry,” Rod said. The man in uniform drew himself up, puffed out his chest and proudly replied, “I do too.” I then dissolved in a fit of giggling when the officer pointed to me and said, “You know, I could give your stoker a ticket too.” At this point I was beside myself, not knowing if I was supposed to be impressed by the uniform or by the fact that this guy even knew the term stoker. Additionally, looking at our bike, we weren’t exactly in racing form, the terms Captain and Stoker seemed a bit ludicrous. Rod, being the polite citizen, took the ticket in stride, and we finished the evening on the bike, laughing and enjoying the good company.

The ticket was for $100.00 and we paid it, mutual schedules made it too difficult to go to court to fight. It was painful, that much cash could have paid for a couple of nights out and a replacement for our sagging seat post. My one regret is that while half of the Boulder Police department was busily ticketing 13 of us for horrendous bike offenses, some honest-to-god criminal stole the CD player from my legally parked car. I guess every institution has to establish it’s priorities, and in Boulder, costumed people on one-speed bicycles are the real menace.

So, we paid the price for our freedom and this summer we may have to pay it again. It’s not OK to come to this ride in racing gear carrying an attitude or an agenda. It’s not OK to break the law or be a drunken fool. It is however OK to be happy, enjoy the warm summer nights, other riders and the bikes. Even though a trumped up traffic ticket can be a heavy price to pay for spreading smiles, friendship, and the joy of pedals.

So, if you’re ever in Boulder on a Thursday, bring your goofiest clothes and your oldest bike. Come and remember what it was like to be a kid, riding with the neighborhood posse. Leave your politics and agendas behind and be prepared to have a good time. Watch out for over zealous cops. Laugh, smile, ride hard and swerve a lot! This is the real festival in Boulder, enjoy. Happy Thursday!

Lisa Allen is a Registered Nurse who lives, works and plays in Boulder, Colorado. She is the proud owner of 7 bicycles and guardian for one psychotic dog. She commutes to work on a 3-speed cruiser complete with handlebar streamers and a bell. When she’s not working, she enjoys riding, writing, road trips and good Belgian beer.