A High-Octane Midday Snack

I flipped my racing helmet upside down right on the dusty curb beside that shiny brass spark plug to serve as my lunch counter! Digging around the edge of a cracked pavement slab, I found a curled scrap of greasy brown paper and a rock-hard discarded French fry dusted in barbecue salt. Using both gloved paws, I wedged the salty fry firmly between the greasy threads of the spark plug like a tiny racing flagpole. Then I sprinkled a pinch of burnt carbon soot tapped right from the plug's tip across the top. Whew! The rich blast of stale fryer oil, salty barbecue crunch, and toasted engine fuel blew right into my snout—the champion platter is served!