These Things Just Drive Themselves

Next to my parent's house there is an abandoned amusement park. It is spring; raining, drizzly. I walk through the tunnels where the tracks for the rides are. One begins running- a red trolley-type thing that goes around the park. Another starts up and they are nearly involved in a collision. I jump off the track and onto a trolley, next to the driver. Brad is driving, wearing the disguise of one of the workers. He's dropped a cigarette or something and is not too concerned with operating the machinery. I suppose there is a track for a reason.