I know how you feel. While working my first summer job as a busboy at a fancy beach club, I locked my trusty Hercules derailleur/Sturmey 9-speed every night in the bike rack. A club regular, somewhat inebriated, I am sure, put his car into D instead of R, jumped the curb, and pretzled my front wheel. He at least had the decency to confess to the management and to pay me about 150 percent of my total damages. These days, I could probably get someone like that nailed for DUI.