NEW YORK —
As a boy I favored the car. I made zoom-zoom noises and took the turns hard, with a controlled fishtailing of the back wheels. I had not yet seen the actual Atlantic City, N.J., and experienced the cognitive dissonance of strolling past the street names that matched the hotly desired properties of my favorite board game, only to walk farther away from Boardwalk and glimpse the city's widespread poverty.
I usually played against my father, who used the iron, the token I now favor for its simple form and function. "What do I need a race car for?" my father said. And he proceeded to trounce me.