A rural driver learns that finding her car can be harder than finding treasure
July 2026
by Margo Oxendine, Contributing Columnist
Am I really that old? Am I losing it? Why does this keep happening to me? Lately, I’ve had trouble finding my car at times. Several times.
For some reason the temperature is in or near the 90s, every single time. So, yes, it’s unbearably hot, and I’m no longer good with heat. How I lived and worked and rode my bike around Key West for seven years, I can’t fathom now.
Because of knee surgeries and heart troubles, I had a disabled parking placard for several years. Now I do not.
It was easy to find my car in the handicapped space. I never had a problem. But now? I often can’t grasp the idea of just where I parked.
The first time this happened was at Walmart. It was 96 degrees. I trudged to where I thought my car was, but it wasn’t there. I looked in adjacent rows. I could not find it. I ran out of ideas. I was hot. I felt faint. I didn’t know how I’d make it or what I was going to do.
Suddenly, a solution presented itself. I saw two friends in a truck coming to park. I waved them down.
“Please help me!” I cried. I must have looked almost a fright. “Can you drive me around and help me find my car?”
Well, sure they could. Around and around, row after row, we drove, all keeping out an eagle eye. No car.
Finally, there it was! Nowhere near where I thought I’d parked it. We were all relieved.
The next time it happened was also at Walmart. It’s just such a huge space! I didn’t see anyone I knew, but I kept slogging through the lot and eventually found it: a treasure, of sorts! I never had a harder time finding treasure in Key West than I’ve had finding that dang car.
I think part of the problem is rural living. Around our environs, we never have to wonder where we’ve parked the car. It’s always right there! But in the “big lots,” it can be difficult.
I learned that for certain last week, when I had to go to a hospital in Alleghany County for a doctor’s appointment. I found a spot near the front of a lot and parked. I was next to a glorious new color of Jeep, sort of a creamy mint julep color. “I won’t forget this!” I thought.
A couple hours later, I came out. I spied the creamy green Jeep and headed toward it. But … there was a different car in my spot. Uh-oh.
I knew I had foolishly left my keys in the console. When you live in rural parts, you tend to do that from time to time. Besides, no matter where I park, chances are I have the oldest, least attractive car in the lot.
Geez, I thought. Someone has actually stolen my car! I didn’t have the energy to hike way back to the hospital entrance to call the police and report the theft. I saw a nice-looking fellow a few rows away and called out, “Can you help me, please?”
He readily agreed to drive me back to the hospital and started tossing stuff from his passenger seat to make room for me.
While I stood there, I looked around the big lot. And behold! In the next row was a second creamy mint green Jeep, with my heap right next to it. Who knew?
I told the kind fellow, “I must seem like a ditz!” We laughed.
Did I learn a valuable lesson? Yes! I learned not to leave my keys in the car in any city, and that I’d absolutely love to have one of those snazzy mint green Jeeps!
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(Vecteezy photo)