By TARYN LUNA

Three lucky students at The New York Times Student Journalism Institute have their own cars. The rest of us have established a system of borrowing whichever rental car is available from the Times folks.

One day you might be cruising the streets of Miami in Lizette Alvarez’s electric-blue PT Cruiser. On a better day you might be driving Troy Griggs’ Sebring Convertible.

Regardless of the car, one question remains important: “Where are you parked?”

Responses range from the very descriptive — “Lot 4, Section H” — to “Uh, I can’t remember.”

A few days ago I was frantically searching the parking lot for Don Hecker’s silver PT Cruiser. Like most of us have done, I hit the panic button after 10 minutes of searching, hoping to be guided by the car’s obnoxious honks. Nothing.

I looked up and met eyes with a Florida State Police officer parked in a squad car at a stop sign. When I encounter any form of law enforcement, my natural instincts kick in, and I tried to play it cool.

I heard a voice from the sky singing, “Oh where, oh where, could my car be?”

It was the cop, through his loudspeaker. He had been watching me.

“Come get in, and I’ll drive you around till we find it,” he said.

It was 2:30 p.m., and the parking lot was full. Immediately, I heard people laughing; some were pointing.

Reluctantly, I got in and thanked him. As we drove around the parking lot chatting, he had the key fob out the window trying to set off the panic button.

His methods proved to be more effective than mine, and we find it.

“Now you better write a story about this,” he said, as I thanked him again and got out of the car.

With luck, this will suffice.