You know that horrible sinking feeling when you go to a place in a carpark, thinking your car is going to be there and it’s not? It’s a damn horrible feeling huh?
Actually, no you probably don’t because I’m sure you’re much more sensible than I am and have never lost a car.
I headed out across Perth on Friday to do a heap of book signings. I’m always a little anxious doing these because one, I don’t know areas of Perth at all well and I’m always having to follow my GPS and hope it’s taking me in the right direction and two, I don’t always know where the book shops are in these massive Westfield shopping centres. Oh yeah and three, I need to remember which door I’ve walked in through so I can find my car again when I go out.
When I’m having to be at places at particular times, I always get a little nervous.
Anyhow, Friday morning, bright and early at 9am, I rock up at the Karrinyup Shopping Centre, talking to a mate on the phone, park my car, confident I know where I’m going to find the Dymocks bookshop inside, because I’ve been here before. Had a lovely time signing books, as you can see from above, finish up, thank everyone then head off outside, again talking on the phone, to find my car and drive across to the next place which was about 15 minutes away.
Looking around the car park, I realised I wasn’t really wasn’t sure where I’d left the car.
Ah. Awkward.
So I wandered up and down the rows for a little while, knowing I’d parked near an exit and the car wash, but the whole area looked so different to where I was sure my car should be. Glanced at my watch and knew there was a possibility that I was going to get to the next bookshop, late. Got that horrible sinking feeling. Hung up from mate. Found the information desk.
‘Ah, I’m really sorry,’ I said, blushing from embarrassment. I mean what sort of an idiot loses their car in a car park? ‘But I’ve lost my car.’
‘No worries, happens all the time,’ said the lovely man behind the desk. ‘Do you know your number plate?’
‘Sure do.’ Reeled it off and he plugged it into the computer.
Somehow due to the wonders of technology the computer could tell us, it was parked on the floor I was on, in row F.
‘So,’ he said. if you walk up and down row F, you should find it. if you can’t, use your zapping unlocker and watch for the blinker lights to come on when it unlocks.’
I smiled, very grateful, but at the same time thinking, ‘I know what my bloody car looks like, I just can’t find it!’
Row F, indeed did reveal my car and I jumped in quickly, concerned I might lose it again, in amongst the millions of cars parked, if I turned away!
The photo above was before I’d realised I’d misplaced the car and was about to throw my whole day out and annoy bookshops who’d generously had me in to sign stock. Thankfully everyone was really understanding and I managed to get to most places on time. But, seriously, again, who misplaces their bloody car in a carpark?
And to add insult to injury, I was telling my son and his girlfriend the story on Friday night, and he was giggling, then thinking I couldn’t hear, said to his girlfriend; ‘That’s so mum!’
Ha!
