It was a perfect autumn afternoon for a drive.

The sun filtered through hazy clouds, softly touching the hilltops

and spreading that special autumnal shimmer, which could only be

detected by autumn-lovers, over the vast expanse of the bushland.

Overpowering, gigantic eucalyptuses stood confidently against the

sky as if making a statement that the ruler of the autumn landscape

in the land of eucalyptus was evergreen, like the hues of orange, red

and yellow in the foreign lands of the maple. The air was still and

sweet, filled with a strong essence of eucalyptus oil, enhanced by a

quick downpour of rain overnight, a slight smell of wettish grass and

a weak but still detectable whiff of exhaust gases, that constant presence

of an industrial city from which there was no escape even in the

most remote suburbs.