Dude, where's my car?

I hate when you leave a bar (or anywhere for that matter) and you cannot remember where you parked your car. What's worse is when you get into the car, drive half way home, get pulled over and swear to the police that you're driving your own car, only to find out it's a completely different make and model than the one you own...try to get out of that one. To get the (short) story click here.