Don't talk and drive

I was getting into the driver's seat of a U-haul, right as my cellaphone rings. It's Vin on the line asking when I'll be at the Park. I say "Hi, Vin" as I turn the key in the ignition. Before I can hit the gas, the truck starts rolling backwards. Which is odd because Orlando is pretty flat. I say, "Hold on, Vinny" and try to hit the brakes, but the seat is pushed back to far and I can't reach the pedals. Vin keeps yakking but I can't hear him over the sound of horns honking and trashcans and mailboxes being mowed down by my now run-away U-haul. I finally stomp on the brakes, but it does no good.
Now a cop starts chasing me, I see him through the windshield of the squad car cursing to stop. I try yelling back, "No Brakes!" and Vin says, "I didn't break it." The truck barrels through intersections with the cop in pursuit. And this steep hill I'm trying to steer down backwards just never f-ing ends. Finally I slam thing into a telephone pole and the truck finally stops by wrapping itself completely around the pole.
Then I wake up thinking, "When did I give Vin my phone number?"
So this morning, I leave for work feeling a little haggard. As I’m backing out of my parking space, an SUV comes around the corner and slams into my rear bumper. A college girl gets out while continuing the conversation she’s been having on her cell. So I say to her, “What, no brakes?”