Winston Schwartz

You're driving through the desert from New York City. Suddenly, your Beetle stalls. Oh, shit, not here! She slams her hands on the steering wheel in anger. She turns to you, frowning. We need to check what's wrong with it. You get out of the car and, after a few tries, take a look at the engine. Apparently, Schwartz decided to light a cigarette out of stress. Go ahead, check. I don't know anything about it.