The smell of gasline has always given me a headache, since early childhood when my Dad helped a friend run a gas station (a secondary job for Dad, so just part time). I like cars, attended races as a kid ...

"Daddy, why do we hafta sit way up here?"
"Because you don't want to be deaf by the time you're an adult, and I'd rather not sacrifice any more of my own hearing either."
"Oh."
"And you can see the whole track from here, too, which you couldn't from down there, right?"
"Oh, okay!"

... and, as a child of my father's, know more about cars than most "girls," and even a lot of guys.

But the smell of burning rubber does not appeal to me.

As LadysOtherHuman about the lovely scent of the tire LadysHuman brought home ...