Where did my car go?

It was the day before we were packing up the truck. Hubs and I were out running last-minute errands, separately. I was running to my friend's house to return the books I had borrowed, then to Target, then home to finish packing before supper at our in-laws (they were nice enough to feed us since I had dropped off all our remaining edible food on my college-aged brother).

My friend lives near the college, so a lot of student park in her neighborhood. I happened to find an empty spot big enough for even me to attempt to parallel park, and at 10:55am I was walking up her doorstep, proud that I had gotten in the spot in only one try.

We talked for a while and then I realized it was 12:10pm and must get going. When is time every going to slow down? I thought to myself as I walked back to my car. Then I realized something was very wrong. My car was gone.

Okay Feather, this isn't happening. Are you sure this was where you parked?

Yes, I remember this house, and that silver Grand Am, and that wooden fence.

Panic started to set in. Sweat started to drip. Where is my car? I tried to think. I looked at my empty spot and knew there was no reason for my car to be towed. I walked back to my friend's house and knocked on her door.

My car is gone.

My friend said, Are you sure? Are you sure that is where you parked?

After I assured her that I wasn't going crazy, she said, Feather, this isn't a great neighborhood. I mean there are drug deals and gun shots frequently.

To be continued...