Back after 27 years and noticed sentimental... smells?

I grew up mostly in Texas, but with one side of my family being from the city (I joke about being Brooklynese once removed), I used to visit a lot more often.

There's one particular smell that defines this city for me, and it's not what people might think. It's the combination of iron, rubber, and ozone (electricity, at least) that rushes at you at station entrances and from the gratings when you walk over one as a train is going by down below. I noticed it most prominently while walking along Central Park West in the upper 50s. Sometimes it also mingles with the scent of hot batter from the Sabrett carts parked nearby. I don't know if it really exists anywhere else.

It felt like a welcome back.