In the 70s, I used to park my old Honda 400 in the some place every Saturday and then pop round the town to get my few bits and pieces. One day, I arrived back there to discover no bike. Ah, well, it was bound to happen, things were a lot easier to steal back then. It was only a few yards to the cop shop and I had to wait for a couple of people to sort their business out before I could burden the desk sergeant with my situation. As he was filling in the details, I suddenly had to admit that I had remembered where I had really parked it, as my usual spot had been full that morning...
At my last school, we had an even-more-obnoxious-than-usual teacher and he had an old white Mini. Someone had the bright idea of playing a trick on him. We got some red poster paint from the art room and a load of us moved his car across the car park and painted it red. I was walking across there at home time and it became clear that he had reported it stolen. He was talking to two coppers in the middle of the car park as I went past - "What was the registration number, Sir?" - "K365RFE, Officer" - Really, Sir? Is that it over there?" I nearly died - I had to walk a good hundred yards before I was out of sight, with the tears nearly rolling down my legs....
When I had a 'real' job, we had a manager who was staggeringly inept - one of his many events was to report his car stolen because he had driven to the canteen in the rain, but it had stopped and was quite sunny when he came out, so he walked back - and couldn't find his car to go home..