what else are you going to do on the overnight shift?
This happened just last week. Sad part is I was at home! :eek:
I’ve got a truck in the garage doing some repairs, and moved the other cars around. I walked into the garage to drive the silver one, and its GONE! Brown one is too small for what I’m doing. Where did I put the silver one? Oh, yeah…
I’m sort of the opposite. When I drop a friend at the airport, if we’re early enough, I’ll park and go in with her and have some coffee or something to pass the time. I usually make it a point to walk around a bit and take a different route back to my car. I’ve been a little bit off, but I can usually head right to it.
I parked at a mall once where the different lots were named after animals. As I walked in to the mall I was singing softly to myself
A law was made a distant moon ago here
July and August cannot be too hot
And there’s a legal limit to the snow here……in Camel Lot
When I first started driving, multi-level parking garages were my kryptonite. I have since trained myself to note the level and haven’t had a problem in many years.
Implies something regarding your origin, dunnit? 
And, yeah… Just a couple weeks ago, I got myself lost in a five-level garage. Turns out I was looking on the right level, just in the wrong wing.
Some years ago, I got lost in the parking lot at Disneyland. I ended up having to ask the nice security guys to help me find my car. (They did!)
Only twice have I come back to where I parked and not found my car. The first time, it was stolen and the second time, a snow clearing crew had towed it to some random place a block or so away and left it. The stolen car was taken for a joyride by (presumably) some kids and abandoned when it ran out of gas. It was found after it had accumulated a couple of parking tickets (which I refused to pay and they didn’t press the point). The second time, I wandered around until I found it. But I am normally careful to note where I park, often writing the location on the ticket.
I was living on Long Island, and one day I drove into Manhattan for several different reasons. I parked the car, and was all over the City, all day, walking and by subway. When it was time to go home, I went to the Upper West Side to get my car. I knew it was somewhere in the mid-80s, and I walked up and down all the streets in the area. No car. I started to panic, and once again walked up and down all the streets in the West 80s, desperately searching for my car. After a few hours, it finally dawned on me that I had parked in the East 80s … all the way on the other side of Manhattan. I had to take a bus to get to my car.
I come from sparsely populated area in south western NSW. Some might call it as remote. It’s not, remote is at least another 4 hours drive west. 
You can review the Google street map.
Driving there from Sydney is about 10 hours without breaks and by the end you are virtually on autopilot.
One trip home I stopped outside the homestead, (which is 5 miles off the road) and when I stepped out of the vehicle, to the bemusement of my mother watching, I used the remote to lock the car, as is first instinct in the city.
“Who do you think is going to steal it out here?” :smack:touche’
Anyhow, by next trip home the parents had a new car, fitted with a remote.
Thinking I had a chance to get one back I asked why would they had bothered getting that?
“No”, said Mum, “It’s absolutely brilliant!”
“When you leave a meeting at the Caldwell Hall at night, [it gets really, disconcertedly, pitch black at night out there because there is no artificial light til the horizon] and there are 20 near identical white station wagons, some Ford the others Holden, you can push the remote and there’s your car!”
That reminds me of the time when I was on vacation with my wife. The first level of the hotel we were staying at was parking, and I had managed to find a spot right next to a stairwell which was really convenient. So I knew damn well exactly where I parked. The next morning I go down the stairs and no car. I spend a few minutes trying to comprehend that my car was stolen. Turns out my wife moved the car for some damned reason and didn’t bother to tell me.
I went to a Kansas City Royals game and forgot where I parked, and when the lot was nearly empty, I finally spotted my lonely car sitting about four sections away from where I was looking.
Drove my then wife’s white Chevy to a dentist appointment. Came out 2 hours later looking for my red Toyota pickup. Called the police and reported my truck as stolen. Called home, no one there. Took a cab home. Had one of those oh shit moments when the cab turned on my street and I could see my truck.
I don’t know why that makes me laugh, but it does. 
Not a lot but it does happen. The one that was the most fun was at MountainFest when I couldn’t remember just where I parked my bike. I looked confused so the one security guy asked me what the problem was:
“Can’t remember where I put my Harley”
(him) “Good luck.”
“It’s painted like a Holstein cow”
(him) “Oh ---- three rows back and about 50 yards to the left”
Several times, in large mall lots, when I used to drive an early 90’s Ford Mustang. The car was silver, and so nondescript it was like it became invisible in a lot full of other nondescript cars. I finally put a bright orange Styrofoam football on the antenna (go Beavs!) so I could find it easier.
Yes, when I was in my 20s, living in an apartment and still parking on the street. I usually parked on one of two nearby streets, but twice I forgot which one. It didn’t take too much time to find it, but most of that time I spent grumbling at myself. Finally I made a point of remembering the address of wherever I’d parked it.
Probably about once a week. When I park I’m usually thinking about what I need
to do at that location and forget to note where I’m parked. I might pull into
the grocery store parking lot thinking “I going to need to get coffee, soap,
eggs, oranges, etc.” and when returning to the parking lot after shopping
I will have no memory of were I parked. The worst time was at Disneyland
when it took me an hour to find my car. At least I remembered what level
I parked on but that still left a huge area that I had to cover in order
to find my car. (This site says that the Disneyland parking lot is the **6th
largest **in the world).
At places I regularly shop at I’ll try to park in the same place, usually in
a back row, so I can find my car easily. But I still have trouble finding it
sometimes. My car is about 6 feet wide, 14 feet long, nearly 5 feet tall
and weighs roughly 3000 pounds. How is it possible to loose something
that big?
Yup. Big square mall in the middle of a sea of asphalt forming the parking lot. Went in one side of the mall, came out the other side after shopping and didn’t realize my mistake. Spent an hour looking for my car and was about to report it stolen when I realized what I had done.
This.
Generally not, but I have a couple of times. I’m careful to make a mental note these days, and its usually enough. If I’m at an airport or some other huge unfamiliar place I’ll take a picture of the number or section.
I do have an uncle who reported his car stolen only to eventually have it found exactly where he parked it.
So very, very many times!
I am always careful to note markers to help me find my car or I will never find it. If I can, I will park under specific signs or the row directly in front of the front door even if it means walking a greater distance. I have never heard of “directional dyslexia” but it sure sounds about right for me. I always called it “parking lot blindness”.
The worst is where you remember exactly where you DID park, but you are mistaken.