I'm 48 now, but when I was 17 I had a week old lemon yellow P13 Schwinn
Paramount jacked. I was riding just north of Indianapolis on a
sidestreet one block off a major road into town.
Three older guys jumped out from between two parked cars and knocked me
off. My head hit the pavement hard enough that I was dazed momentarily.
As I regained my senses I saw them in the distance laughing and walking
away with my Paramount. By the time I managed to flag down a cop they
were long gone.
Years later a bum attacked me as I was walking home from work, just
south of town late at night. Unfortunalely for that guy I had since
earned a brown belt in kenpo karate. All he got for his trouble was some
dislocated fingers (when he grabbed me) and a punch to the face that
broke his nose.