Ah, the sounds of summer.
The cracking of pine trees in the midday heat. The thud of pinecones falling on the sand and its pine-needle cover. The cooing and whistling of the birds. Kids running in the garden and up in the forest, and playing football next door.
The wind rushing through the tops of the pine trees and ruffling the leaves of the Alamo trees.
The crackling of charcoal and wood on the barbeque and the sizzling of beef and sausages.
The tunes on the stereo, of Bob Marley, Black Uhuru, Desmond Dekker and the Aces, and a bit of Janis Joplin and Jack Johnson.
You lie back, put your feet up and close your eyes and fall into a blissful calm.
For a moment.
Then a noise rattles your ears.
You open your eyes. You hear it louder. Vroom, vroom, vroom… It is the growl of a quad bike racing through the pine forest behind the house, your pine tree paradise. There are two, three, four. Maybe five. A cacophony of motor sounds is drowning out the chirping of the birds and the wind in the trees.
You sit up and you think, lift your foot off the accelerator. It isn’t that cool to put the pedal to the metal.
Slow down.
If you want to go fast, take up surfing. Or kite surfing. The whoosh of the wind and the crash of the waves certainly sounds better than vroom, vroom, vroom…
