The morning sun was shining in the corner with the kind of reflecting, silvery light you sometimes see on exceptional days. As I headed out of the city, the wind grew brisk, the surroundings greener. Gentle, stately hills, were rolling down to rows of different trees on either flank. I watched them intently.
Almost after an hour, other vehicles noise got lesser and the bullet thump got louder. It was a weekday so few vehicles passed on the busy Bombay-Goa highway.
A steady speed and the surrounding wind was refreshing. The simmering heat of the lawns and the smell of dry dirt came on stronger; the clouds were outlined sharp against the sky. A fantastic weather. Perfect for taking a little summer day trip with a girl somewhere. I thought of cool sea and hot sand, coconut water and the crisp fry fish. With hot breeze heating my face I was lost in a day-dream.
I started to wander further into the depths of my day-dream, when I suddenly pressed the breaks. I realized that I had been so deeply engrossed in my solitary musings, that I had forgotten the fact that my father was a pillion rider.