I love the smell of sweltering hot pavement, not the acrid smell of asphalt as it's being layed meticulously, but that strong musty dusty thick dank odor of cement as it bakes in the heat of summer.
Not Newly laid cement, but years old cement, the kind that was poured before Kennedy was assinated. The kind of cement that tells a story with every crack and bump and imperfection.
Deisel exhaust in the air on a damp morning, sour and heavy, fresh and wet.
Not the way it smells as you drive down a freeway near truckstops and airports, but the way a carnival lot smells in the early morning before the lights are turned on, before the music begins to play, before the sun burns off the blanket of fog and dew. I love the smell of a carnival lot before the sweet fruity scent of cotton candy and candy apples pushes away the oily air...
Burnt sugar so sweet you can almost taste the crystals...hot grease so thick in the air that you can smear it on your skin.
Not the normal smell of food preparatio