Golf Cars In The News

A Very Unusual Sunday in Palisade

What began as a routine missing-child call quickly turned into one of the strangest golf car stories Colorado has seen.

Sunday mornings in Palisade aren’t usually dramatic. They’re slow, quiet, the kind of mornings built for coffee on the porch or an early walk through the neighborhood. But last Sunday jolted the town into a different rhythm entirely. At 7:55 a.m., according to KDVR, Mesa County deputies responded to a report of a missing child on Brentwood Drive, one of those calls that spikes everyone’s stress before the details even land.

Deputies fanned out quickly. Palisade police joined in. A reverse 911 alert went out to residents, the kind that makes phones buzz with the kind of urgency no parent wants to see. Within minutes, neighbors were checking porches, sheds, side yards (anywhere a scared kid might slip into to feel safe). But then a twist surfaced that no one expected: a resident claimed they had spotted a child sitting on a golf car in the 100 block of West 1st Street.

The next moments could have been plucked straight from a small-town sitcom if the stakes weren’t so high. By the time deputies reached the area, the child and the golf car were gone. And not just missing, officials confirmed the car was stolen. That prompted the second reverse 911 message, announcing that the missing child was now driving a stolen vehicle. It wasn’t the kind of update anyone had on their bingo card.

Suddenly, the search shifted. This wasn’t a case of a frightened kid hiding behind a trash can. This was a miniature joyride (unintentional or not) cruising somewhere in Palisade. Deputies deployed drones to find the moving target. But even the aerial sweep came up empty. Residents continued calling dispatch with location sightings as the golf car zipped from street to street, turning the quiet town into a real-time tracking grid.

Eventually, the chase reached Grand Junction’s jurisdiction, and local police partnered in. Around 9:15 a.m. (nearly an hour and a half after the first call) a deputy finally caught up with the golf car, which was traveling northbound on 29 Road. The officer managed to jump into the moving vehicle and bring it safely to a stop. No dramatic crash, no runaway-cartoons moment. Just a very relieved group of officers and a child who, by all accounts, handled the operation with far more driving determination than anyone expected.

The child was immediately reunited with guardians. No injuries. No property damage beyond the temporarily borrowed golf car that was returned to its owners without incident. No names will be released because of the child’s age, but that part almost doesn’t matter. What sticks with people is how the day unfolded: messy, strange, and strangely cinematic.

In most missing-child cases, the fear is about a kid wandering into the woods or slipping into dangerous terrain. No one expects the storyline to swerve into “capable getaway driver in a golf car,” but here we are. And in a way, the whole thing reminded Palisade of its strengths: neighbors who pay attention, a community that responds instantly, and law enforcement agencies that coordinate seamlessly when things get weird.

The story will live on a while. It’s the sort of tale that will be told at block parties and backyard barbecues: half in disbelief, half in relief. And somewhere in that mix is the truth: golf cars may be charming little vehicles, but in the hands of an unsupervised kid, they can turn an ordinary Sunday into one for the books.