I still have this. If approached by thugs I will flash it and say:
“Don't Mess With Me Boys.”
Then I will run like a Cheetah.
I think that will work.
I dunno when, but at some point in his life, my grandpa was a law-man. Not a particularly bad hombre himself, and built like a long-distance runner, I suspect he was a court bailiff.
He did have a way of looking at you that made you obey.
At least I did anyway.