The afternoon breeze blended a unique aroma of mangroves, wild fennel and market garden herbs with car exhaust, fresh cut lawns and aviation fuel. I wheeled my way along the Cooks River cycle path, camera dangling around my neck, humming a tune I heard just moments before in a tunnel by a concrete drain beneath one of the main roads to Kingsford Smith International airport. I was song-riding, and I was loving it.