I used to own a rad mountain bike. It was blue. It had wheels. I can't recall the model or anything more specific, except to say it was cool. I was in the fifth or sixth grade and rode my bike all over the place. This was back in the old days when kids played outside and did stuff that required physical activity.
One cloudy Cranston day I rode my bicycle around the neighborhood and I ended up in the parking lot of a cheap jewelry packing factory right near my street. I was a minute away from my house. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by local street toughs on bikes not nearly as cool as mine. They surrounded me and the leader of the pack demanded I get off my bike. I didn't answer at first. He said it again while menacingly getting off his bike. He was scary. To save myself from a beating, I got off the bike and they took it. I ran crying to my house.
A police officer came by and I gave a description. He didn't seem all that interested, but he was polite. A couple of days later, the cops called us to say the thieves had returned the bike. A miracle! I had my bike back.
Now, my memory is hazy these days, so I can't say when this next thing happened. All I know is that it was a sunny day and my bike was resting peacefully in our garage with the door open. I was up in my bedroom when one of my sisters ran up to tell me someone had sneaked into our garage and ran out with my bike. I couldn't believe it. No good description either. Just a guy. I looked at our dog Sparky (may he rest in peace) and he was sleeping soundly. I thanked him for guarding the property with such ferocity.
We didn't bother going to the police and I didn't bother buying a new bike until years later when I was bigger and no one would screw with me. I still miss that bike to this day. Apparently, it was really cool since it got stolen twice. I wonder what happened to it ...