Dude, Where’s My Car?

If you are like me, you’ve gone to the mall to buy something and forgotten where you parked the car. In the days before the remote control horn alarm, it was much more difficult. When traveling, I have learned to memorize the details of my rental car—the state name on the license plate, color of the car and any special features, although, that may not be enough to find the right car.

Several years ago, John, one of my colleagues was attending a conference in St. Louis. The attendees were staying at a large downtown hotel with an attached parking structure. John parked his black Chevrolet Impala with Kansas license plates and made note of the location. That evening he and three other people were on their way to dinner. John pressed the unlock remote for the car and the three of them got in. One of the people asked where he would like him to move the huge shopping bag sitting on the backseat. John adjusted the seat, side and rearview mirrors, put the key in the ignition and drove to a nearby restaurant. When they arrived back at the hotel, he pulled in to the same parking space.

One of their colleagues was in the lobby talking to the police. John stopped and asked what had happened. His friend told him that his car had been stolen from the parking garage. About that time someone came running into the lobby and exclaimed that the car had been returned. The story unfolded that unbeknownst to John, he had mistakenly taken his colleague’s car. The car was the exact same make, color and state license plate. They discovered that both keys operated both of the vehicles! The rental car company said that it was impossible, even after John demonstrated to them that it was true.

After skiing, I saw a fiftyish-year-old man wandering around the parking lot in ski boots looking for his car. On his third time walking by, we asked if we could help him. Today’s gift was to give him a ride around the parking lot to try and find his older model Suburban with California tags. He arrived at about the same time as we did, so it was reasonable that he would have parked in close proximity. We drove around for almost thirty minutes, but to no avail. Finally we took him to where his family was waiting for him to pick them up. Although we were not able to help him find his car, at least we were able to relieve his tired ski legs from the uncomfortable boots. He seemed mesmerized by the mysterious disappearance of his vehicle as he mumbled over and over, “Dude, where’s my car?”

In Giving,

Robin