Did I Fall in Love with the Smell of Burnt Rubber?

One of my friends tagged along with us to her first drift event this season. She’d never been into cars, didn’t get her license until later in life, and hadn’t spent much time around gearhead types. One night, while we were watching the A group drivers (top talent at the event)  rip around the track, she leaned over and asked,

“Is it weird I kind of like the smell of burnt rubber? I almost want to make it into a candle.”

My first thought?
“Uhhh… yeah, that’s kind of weird.”

I mean… think about the times you light candles at home. Family’s coming over for the holidays...let me make the house smell like a tire fire. Or imagine my husband running me a bath after a long day at work: lavender salts, a glass of wine… and BAM! Burnt rubber straight to the face. I tried to be polite, but I’m pretty sure my eyebrows said what my mouth didn’t.

It’s definitely an odd thing to love.

But… part of me gets it.

That smell is part of the environment of the drift community. it’s the energy. It means someone is out there on track, pushing past the normal grip limit into that unstable equilibrium, holding the car in the sweet spot between chaos and control. You hear the tires scream. You feel the roar of the engines and the flutter of the turbos. Drifting is a full-body sensory experience and that smell is at the forefront.

So do I love that smell?
Love it enough to make a candle out of it?

My gut still says no.
But there’s one very fleeting moment when I might just say yes.

It happens at the end of a wicked lap — one where you nailed every transition or did a massive burnout for the crowd. As you straighten out and slow down, a wave of smoke rolls into the cabin through the wheel wells. I’m talking enough smoke to make you think,
“Oh sh*t, something’s on fire.”

People new to it start coughing. You worry for a split second if you’ll even be able to see out the windshield. The first time I experienced it was in my husband’s Mustang, and I swore he’d blown something up. Turns out? That’s just the sign of a sick lap.

We always joke about blowing our noses the next day and finding tire dust and this smoke wave is why. I usually drive with the windows down, so it clears fast, but for that short moment when the adrenaline is still coursing and I’m enveloped in smoke…

Yeah, maybe I do love the smell of burnt rubber.

So to the girl who inspired this post... you know who you are....I’m sorry my face said your idea was weird. But maybe now, when I see the pile of dirty laundry that smells like burnt rubber, burning oil, and adrenaline, I’ll look at it a little more fondly.

Just don’t expect me to buy the candle.
Without the track, the cars, the adrenaline, and the people...it’s just not the same.