It doesn't start after countless times trying to make it start.

The annoying scraping of the ignition grabs the attention of the sheriff. He turns around and starts again toward my car door. He knocks the window and I lower it.

"What's seems to be the problem ma'am?" he asks, in the same polite voice he used before.

"My car won't start, unfortunately," I look and look for a reason why it doesn't start on the gauges, but the tank is full and the battery doesn't seem to be drained.

"Can you pop the hood ma'am, I wanna take a look?" he asks and I obey.

"You find anything?" I ask, **** to get out of this situation.

"Looks like your engine's blown," he says as I slump in failure onto the back of my seat. "This car isn't going anywhere, that's a fact."