The Hill at the Edge of Town

"… Tonight I'll be on that hill 'cause I can't stop,
I'll be on that hill with everything I got,
Lives on the line where dreams are found and lost,
I'll be there on time and I'll pay the cost,
For wanting things that can only be found
In the darkness on the edge of town."
(1978 B. Springsteen)

It may not be so dark on that hill at this time of the year, but the rest sounds pretty accurate.

Now, may I speak freely for a moment? 

What has happened to the Thursday ride? I seem to remember nights when the group would be all strung out, from top to bottom when it hit the hill at the edge of town. From what I saw tonight, other than the first guy up and another guy way near the back, everyone looked to be on a slow Sunday spin. All relaxed and smiling. Where was the speed? Where were the grimaces? Where was the look of pain?

I understand, it may be partly my fault, after all I haven't done the ride in months (and may not be allowed, or welcomed, back any time soon), but it seems like the ride needs a protagonist, an instigator to stir the pot. Heck, If I had known it was Thursday cruise night, I would have come back long ago; a nice, easy ride before the weekend sounds pretty good. Not that I am volunteering, mind you. No, I would be that guy at the back, a grimace that only looks like a smile, panting, red in the face, and ready to be dropped after two miles. 

It is much easier to get there ahead of time, take some photos, go home and write about it, and ride fast vicariously. Keep on keeping on.