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I spent 45 minutes looking for my truck in an IKEA parking lot last spring. In the rain. Having a panic attack. I want to be clear that I am not a disorganised person. I remember where I park. I always have. It's one of those small things I'm quietly proud of, the kind of thing you don't think about until the day it stops being true. Last spring I went to IKEA on a Saturday. Anyone who has been to an IKEA on a Saturday already knows how this story starts. The parking lot is enormous. It was raining. I grabbed a cart, went in, spent longer than I planned, and came out with more than I intended to buy. I walked out the exit and turned left. My truck wasn't there. I turned right. Walked down a row. Not there either. I clicked the key fob. Nothing audible over the rain and the noise of the lot. I clicked it again. I started walking rows. Up one, down the next. Past the same silver SUV three times. Past a family loading flat packs into a minivan who watched me go by once, then twice, then a third time without saying anything. Twenty minutes in I started to feel it. That specific low-grade panic that starts in your chest when something small goes wrong and your brain decides to treat it like something large. Thirty minutes in I was soaked and I'd covered most of the lot and I was standing in the rain genuinely wondering if someone had taken my truck. Forty-five minutes after I'd walked out of the store I found it. Two rows from where I'd been looking, parked slightly further than I remembered, completely fine. I sat in the driver's seat for a few minutes before I started the engine. The whole way home I kept thinking about how that had happened. I know how to park a car. I know how to remember where I left it. I'd just walked out of a building after two hours inside and the information wasn't there. That happens. Parking lots are designed to be disorienting. They're large and uniform and every row looks like the last one and if you come out a different exit from the one you came in you're already pointed the wrong direction. It's not a memory problem. It's a geometry problem. A few weeks later my son mentioned these tracking cards. Credit card sized, 1.8mm thin, slides flat into the glovebox. Connect it to the Find My app on your phone and there's a dot. There's your car. Tap the button and it points you straight at it. I ordered one the same day. I've used it three times since. Once at a stadium. Once at an airport parking structure. Once, embarrassingly, at a shopping centre car park where I was absolutely certain I knew where I'd parked and was absolutely wrong. Each time I opened my phone and walked directly to the car. No rows. No rain. No standing in a car park clicking a key fob while a family loading flat packs watches you go by for the third time. One charge lasts eight months. No subscription. No separate app. It just sits in the glovebox doing nothing until the moment you need it to do everything. I've got one in the truck and one in my wife's car. She's used hers twice already and she's more organised than I am, which tells you everything you need to know about parking lots. If you want to see what it is, it's here. 👉 https://www.spotminders.com/pages/lp-101