QT Auckland to Waihi private car — Anjali's business trip

The bellhop at QT Auckland was struggling with a heavy suitcase, so I made a point of staying back in the lobby, watching.

He finally wheeled it out, a slick, dark grey thing on what looked like industrial-grade wheels. A woman in a sharp navy suit, hair pulled back so tight it looked like it might lift her eyebrows, followed it with an air of focused efficiency. This had to be my passenger. She scanned the foyer with bright, quick eyes, then her gaze landed on me. A tiny nod, and she was heading over.

Anjali K. That was the name on the booking. Heading out to Waihi. Business travel, the note said. That usually means a conference, a client meeting, something with a tight schedule. Waihi isn't a typical tourist spot, but it’s got a solid industrial base and is on the edge of the Goldfields, so it draws a particular kind of visitor.

We loaded her case – it was heavier than it looked – and I set off. The early morning Auckland traffic was already building, giving me the familiar South Auckland crawl through Manukau. Anjali was quiet at first, checking her phone, tapping out messages with rapid-fire precision. The usual hum of a city working its way into the day.

As we cleared the concrete jungle and hit the open motorway towards the Coromandel turnoff, the landscape started to change. The hills turned green, dotted with sheep that looked like cotton balls. The air, even through the car windows, seemed to clear. I mentioned the Coromandel Peninsula was just a bit further east, a popular spot for fishing and bush walks, and she turned her gaze outward.

'My grandfather used to tell me stories of gold mining,' she said, her voice surprisingly soft after her brisk lobby presence. 'He was an engineer. Worked on projects all over the world. India, Africa, even some places in Australia.'

She seemed to relax a little after that. She told me her grandfather had been inspired by the stories of gold rushes, which was why she’d taken a particular interest in Waihi. This trip wasn't about mining itself, she clarified. It was about an investment opportunity in a new kind of technology for resource extraction, something far more sustainable than the old digs.

'It’s exciting,' she’d said, explaining some of the complex concepts. 'We're looking at how to minimise impact, regenerate land even. It’s not just about profit; it’s about legacy. My grandfather always said that.'

She spoke about her family, living in Mumbai. Her parents were academics, but she’d always been drawn to the practical side of business, the tangible outcomes. She confessed that her focus was so intense, she sometimes worried she might miss the smaller joys of life. New Zealand, she mused, seemed like a place where those small joys were more readily available.

We stopped at a small roadside café just past the Karangahake Gorge turnoff. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant farmland. While she grabbed a quick coffee, I refilled my water bottle and mentally checked the progress. The gorge itself is always a beautiful stretch, carved by the Ohinemuri River. On a clear day like this, the light catching the bush and the old mining relics was something else. Even Anjali paused, phone momentarily forgotten, to look out at the wildness of it.

Back in the car, the conversation turned more personal. She asked me about my work, about Auckland. I told her about NZ Intercity Cabs, about the freedom it offered, and the different kinds of people I met every day. She seemed interested in the fact that I knew the country so well, not just the main routes but the side roads, the history of the small towns we passed.

She told me a brief story about her own journey, about the leap of faith she took to move to Singapore for her career a few years ago. It was a sharp contrast to the comfortable academic life she’d known growing up. 'Sometimes you have to create your own opportunities, create your own foundations,' she stated. It sounded like advice she lived by.

As we approached Waihi, the landscape began to flatten out, giving way to rolling hills and farmlands. The signs for the town appeared, and a different kind of purpose seemed to settle over Anjali. The sharp efficiency returned, but now it was tempered with the reflections of the journey. She was meeting with local business leaders, she explained by way of conclusion, to discuss the technology she’d talked about.

I pulled up to her hotel, a modern building on the edge of town. Her suitcase was unloaded, and she shook my hand. 'Thank you, Harry,' she said. 'It was a long drive, but you made it very interesting. Safe journey back.'

As I drove away, heading back towards the motorway and the long run north, I thought about her words. Legacy. Sustainability. Creating your own foundations. It’s easy to get caught up in the everyday grind, the next job, the next delivery. But talking to Anjali reminded me that we’re all part of something bigger, building something, whether it's a business, a family, or just a good reputation on the road.