The true story of how an ice-cream man in Detroit saved my life, after a young thug attacked me with a table leg and tried to steal my bike.
Riding My Bike Around Detroit
This episode took place in the summer of 1975. I did not own a car until the year that I was married, and frequently rode my 10 speed bicycle everywhere I needed to go. I enjoyed riding around Dearborn (my hometown) and a few longer rides to places in southeast Michigan. I remember riding to Camp Dearborn (in Milford, MI) and out to a campground near Ann Arbor.
On this particular Sunday afternoon, my friend Danny Wassenaar and I decided to ride from Dearborn out to Grosse Pointe. It was distance of 18 or 20 miles, depending on the route, and we expected it would take only 1.5 or 2 hours.
A Wrong Turn?
We rode our bikes down Michigan Avenue into Detroit, and the plan was to go down Jefferson Avenue out to Grosse Pointe. But somehow we made a wrong turn and found ourselves in an unfamiliar neighborhood.
We continued peddling fast, heading east (I think), riding through some run-down neighborhoods. I trusted that Danny knew where we were going, and tried to keep up with him.
We noticed four young African-American men joy riding in a Cadillac convertible. They drove slowly by us, and then circled back and it seemed like they were following us from a distance. Danny said we should peddle faster and get out of that neighborhood.
Sensing danger, Danny pedaled like crazy and was soon about a block ahead of me. I’m not sure why I was lagging behind, but it was not a good situation and I was getting nervous.
The car stopped and some men jumped out. One was in the car, two behind me and one blocking my path — holding a table leg, with a stern look on his face. He said: “Give me the bike.” I refused. My back was against a fence, and I had nowhere to run.
Using the Bike As a Shield
The attacker started swinging the table leg at me, so I quickly picked up the bike by the frame, and every time he swung, I blocked it with the bike frame. I started yelling “Help! Help me! Danny, come back…” Next he tried to swing at my hands — in an effort to break my grip on the bike frame. One of the blows bounced off the frame, and smashed the side of my face — drawing a little blood and leaving a nasty bruise. I was confused and about ready to give up.
All of a sudden Danny came peddling back on his bike — jumped off and performed a crazy flying karate kick on one of the men. It was amazing that he had the courage to come back and help me. We were clearly outnumbered. Danny was a true friend. The flying karate kick surprised everyone — including Danny — and caught the men off guard.
This struggle went on for what seemed like a long time, but was in reality, only about three or four minutes. By this time a few neighbors came out on their front porches to watch what was happening. No one came to help us. For a few minutes it looked like both of us would lose our bikes, and might be walking home badly beaten.
Ice-Cream Man to the Rescue
Suddenly, an ice-cream man drove up, ringing his bell and playing a happy tune. He yelled at the men to stop fighting with us. Then a few of the neighbors yelled at the men, telling them to leave us alone and get out of the neighborhood.
As quickly as it began, the struggle was over. I straightened my handle bars, got back on my bike and rode away — still shaking — but thankful for God’s protection that Sunday afternoon.
Questions to Ponder: The Day an Ice-Cream Man Saved My Life
Did the ice-cream man really save my life, or simply save me from being badly beaten and losing my bike? What gave my friend Danny the courage to come back and help me? Did God hear my cries for help? Why did the ice-cream man arrive — just in time?
Many years ago, I shared this story with some men around a campfire. One of the men asked me if the incident caused me to hate black people, and I replied: “Of course not — a black man saved my life that day.”
Postscript: Sweet Surrender
I was surprised when the AI art tool wrote “Sweet Surrender” on the side of the ice-cream truck, and wondered if the phrase had a special meaning. John Denver released a song in 1974 with the title: “Sweet Surrender”. The song explores themes of self-discovery, freedom, and living in the moment. The lyrics depict a person who finds themselves on an unfamiliar path, symbolizing a sense of being lost. The central message of the song revolves around the idea of surrendering to the uncertainty of each day. The recurring phrase “Sweet, sweet surrender” conveys the notion of embracing life’s unpredictability. It encourages living without excessive worry or care, much like a fish in water or a bird in the air.
I have found that God’s grace and mercy sustains me every day.
The earliest use of the phrase “Sweet Surrender” in English is found in John Johnson’s 1754 “The Faith of God’s Elect” which refers to the “sweet surrender of all your powers into the bosom of Christ and the will of God.”
The incident of almost getting this bike stolen was circa 1975/76.
Related Links
- My Summer Working on a Railroad Salvage Crew
- Slow Roll Bike Rides – A Growing Tradition in Detroit – video on YouTube – “The Slow Roll is a weekly event that draws over a thousand cyclists of all kinds to meet, greet, and slowly roll through the city. The Slow Roll has become an event that truly benefits the community… by bringing bike riders into the city and offering a safe, healthy, community activity.”
Thanks Doug for that heartening story! Sounds like a good bedtime story for kids. Just enough excitement and short enough with enough resolution to hit the pillow and go to sleepy town with the choice of an ice cream cone on your mind!
Thank you Evan. That is encouraging to hear, because my wife has been encouraging me to write down the stories of my life. We have 14 grandchildren, and I will be trying out some of the stories with the grandkids this summer.