When my car disappeared at a BART station

A 12-year-old Chinese boy received a certain amount of notoriety recently when he was lost for six days in an IKEA store.

The kid actually spent nearly a week inside the store (and it was a real week, not the "it feels like a week" experience that many of us have in big-box stores). It started when he got into a fight with his mom over homework (so much for thinking that was strictly an American problem) and left the house. Days later, police found him, "very weak with hunger" and rushed him to a local hospital.

It seems silly, but it happens to all of us.

Because you don't have to be in a huge store to lose your way.

It can happen even in public places. Even when it seems impossible to get lost. Even when places are labeled and parking spots are marked.

Such as a Bay Area Rapid Transit station.

Seriously.

Several years ago, I was covering the postseason for the San Francisco Giants and took BART to San Francisco from the North Concord station. After a game, I returned home, arrived at my station and got off the train, thinking about my drive home.

Things were going well. The game ended early and now I could be in bed at a reasonable time. I walked to the parking lot and looked.

And looked.

I couldn't find my car.

I was pretty sure I'd parked it near the station's entrance, but it wasn't there. I obviously remembered it incorrectly, so I decided to be practical and systematic. I'd walk each line of cars until I found my Saturn. (Mrs. Brad likely doesn't believe this. Her view is that I go nuts when I get confused and act more like Professor Irwin Corey than James Bond. But trust me, I was like Agent 007 on this occasion.)

I strolled up one row and down another. Up and down. I started losing my cool because my car wasn't there. It had obviously been stolen.

Stolen!

From a BART parking lot. I was stuck – should I call the police? If so, which department – Concord or BART? Should I call Mrs. Brad? Should I start shouting and hope the car thief returned?

My car was stolen from a BART parking lot! I was lost in North Concord!

This was going to be a disaster. I didn't have a car and I was stuck, 30 miles from home, late at night.

I walked back into the station, looking for a pay phone. And as I walked, I looked up . . . and saw a sign.

I was at the Pittsburgh-Bay Point BART station, one stop beyond North Concord. I wasn't lost. My car wasn't stolen. (Well, maybe I was lost, but my car wasn't stolen.)

I slinked back into the station, realized I had to pay extra since I'd ridden BART past my stop (it was then that I remembered that I'd jumped the BART turnstile when the stupid thing told me my ticket wasn't enough upon arrival) and got back on the train heading west.

It was a combination of relief that my car wasn't stolen and embarrassment that I missed my spot and went all Irwin Corey in the parking lot.

So maybe that Chinese kid wasn't lost. Maybe he just thought he was in a Home Depot or Costco.

Hey, it happens to the best of us.

Brad Stanhope is a former Daily Republic editor. Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.