I was once, sort of, mugged for my bike. I had leant it against the wall of the TSB on Salford precinct (just the word Salford should send shivers down your spine
) and put a lock through the wheels. When I came out of said bank, having withdrawn my last £5 (I was only young and in my first job) a bunch of teenagers jostled me as soon as I had undone the lock. One cycled off on my Trek 800 MTB whilst the others 'impeded my forward progress'. I was mad as hell, and chased after them screaming ' help, thieves' but no-one helped
.
I ran around the mean streets of Salford, casing the ginnels and alleys for ages seeing whether they had dumped it or at least dumped my trusty Carradice pannier, and book of the moment by Stephen King (The Stand) that I couldn't wait to get home to finish. Things you remember.
Eventually I gave up and walked into the police station to report the loss, only to realise I had been running around Salford in a cycle helmet but minus bike. Must've looked a right twerp
.
I still haven't forgiven the little bu**ers, more so for the embarrassment than the loss of the bike.