when i was a little girl, my dad used to take me to race electric cars. his motor engine grease smile still sticks in the back of my neck when i smell a buzz of tin pins fast whirring along tracks. of super eights and high boys. mine always flew from the pinions around corners. go go go, i'd squeal at the tires that didn't actually turn. and he'd pick me up and let me run as many times until i was done. i never knew quite when to slow down.