I lost my car again in the Wal-Mart parking lot.

Don’t laugh; I know some of you have done the same thing at some point in time in your life. Sad thing is, this is the fourth time since I moved to Americus that I lost my car.

Even sadder is, this is not something new in my life. It was widely known in the previous community that I resided in, that I was notorious for misplacing my car in the Wal-Mart parking lot, the hospital parking lot, the grocery store parking lot and well, you get the point.

Back then, I drove a smaller car, a white one. It seemed like most everyone drove a small, white car. I could use that as an excuse.

But here in Americus, no one has a car like my “green machine.”

The first time I lost it, I had only been in Americus for about a week. The car had only been mine for about a week as well. I am going to chalk up that episode to being in a new surrounding, plus it was raining.

The second time I lost it, I parked in a different row than usual. My dad always parks his car in the farthermost space possible so that we can get our walking in, so that is what I started doing whenever I go anywhere.

I figured out something: Daddy parks the car that far out because it can be spotted easier.

In the world we live in, people are in such a hurry and are lazy, so they tend to want the spaces closer to the building.

This time, I parked on the grocery side of the store, which I never go in on. I don’t cook unless it is microwavable. I spend most of my time in health and beauty aids, pets and clothing. Of course, I bank at the bank in Wal-Mart, too. (They have got some of the nicest and coolest people. They know what I want before I even get to the desk.)

When I walked out the pharmacy side door, I got distracted by that toy game. You know, the one where you put in 50 cents to win the bears? Hey, those bears make good dog toys.

As I was walking out the door, it started to sprinkle. Why is it every time I go in the store and can’t remember where I parked my car that it starts to rain? Sometimes, I really do think God has a sense of humor.

I searched high and low for my car, and on the verge of tears, picked up my cell phone to call, no, not Ghostbusters, but my mom, when to my left, I noticed the end of a green car sticking out. (I know, why would I call my mom, who lives an hour away because I couldn’t find my car? I don’t know, I mean because she is my mom?)

Shutting my door, I leaned into the steering wheel and kissed it. The “green machine” may not look like much, but it is mine.

You would think I would take better responsibility and care for the car if it meant so much to me. Last week, I was coming out of Wal-Mart again with my buggy, when I realized I had no clue where I parked my car.