Tauranga to Auckland City private car — Ethan's holiday

The sky over Tauranga on Tuesday morning was that bruised sort of grey you get in mid-winter, the kind that promises rain but never quite delivers. It was cool, too. My breath plumed in the air as I stepped out of the car to meet Ethan M. at his hotel.

He was waiting near the entrance, fiddling with his phone, a rolled-up map sticking out of his backpack. A typical tourist, I thought, though he looked a bit younger than I’d imagined from the booking. Probably late twenties, maybe early thirties. He’d booked a private car from Tauranga to Auckland, a straightforward enough trip, but he’d specified a midday drop-off in the city, suggesting he wasn't just passing through. He’d mentioned a couple of days of sightseeing in Tauranga on his booking notes, so I figured he was heading back home, or maybe onto his next stop.

“Ethan M.?” I called out. He looked up, a quick nod. “Ready to go?” A simple “Yep” was his reply. He tossed his backpack onto the back seat, a fairly organised affair, judging by the way it sat there. He settled in by the window, map still in hand, and I pulled away from the hotel, heading north towards the Kaimai Range.

The drive up and over the Kaimais was mistier than I’d anticipated. The dense bush lining the road seemed to bleed into the low cloud, blurring the edges of the world. We crawled through the winding two-lane road, the tyres hissing on the damp asphalt. I always like this part of the drive, even in winter. It feels like you’re leaving one pocket of the world and entering another. Ethan seemed lost in thought, occasionally glancing out the window, sometimes consulting his map, tracing routes with a finger.

We broke out of the mist on the western side, the landscape opening up into the rolling farmland of the Waikato. The sun tried to make an appearance, weak and watery, but the grey overhead held firm. We passed through Cambridge, quiet in the mid-morning lull, and then skirted around Hamilton. Ethan pointed out the green fields, a small smile. “Been seeing those online. They’re quite something.” He took a quick photo with his phone.

“You’re heading straight into Auckland city?” I asked, just to make conversation. He nodded. “Business meeting tomorrow morning. Thought I’d come in early and do a bit of exploring today. Don’t get much time off back home.”

“Ah, holiday then?”

“Sort of. Mostly visiting family over Christmas, but wanted to see a bit more this time. Your country… it’s pretty unreal.” He gestured vaguely with his hand. “The landscapes are incredible. Back in Wisconsin, it’s mostly just… flat.”

“Wisconsin,” I mused. “Never been that way.”

“Lots of cheese,” he offered. “And cows.”

We fell into a companionable silence for a while, the rhythm of the road filling the space. I explained the usual points of interest as we drove – the thermal activity to the east, the history of the region, the sheer amount of dairy cows in the Waikato. He absorbed it all, asking the occasional question about New Zealanders, about what I thought of a particular town or region. He seemed genuinely curious, not just polite.

“So, what are you planning to see today?” I prompted. He tapped his map.

“Think I’ll try to find a good view of the city, maybe somewhere with some nature. And I definitely want to try some decent fish and chips before I leave the coast.”

As we approached the Bombay Hills, the familiar crawl of traffic began. The southbound lanes were already backed up, but our northbound journey was flowing, albeit slowly. The sky started to lighten, the grey softening. I told him about the traffic congestion on the Southern Motorway, a constant battle for anyone heading into or out of Auckland.

“It’s always like this?” he asked, peering at the queue of cars ahead.

“Pretty much, especially mid-week. You’re lucky you’re not hitting it during rush hour.”

We eventually navigated the urban sprawl, winding our way through the city streets towards his hotel. The architecture changed, the open farmland replaced by buildings, the air filled with the hum of city life. He directed me to his hotel near the waterfront. As we pulled up, he gathered his things, the map now tucked neatly into his backpack.

“Thanks so much, Harry. Really appreciate the drive and the commentary.” He paid, a smile of genuine appreciation on his face. “It was a long trip, but a good one. Learned a lot.” He stepped out onto the pavement, backpack slung over his shoulder. He looked less like a tourist now, more like someone on a mission. I watched him walk towards the hotel entrance, a lone figure against the backdrop of the city, ready for whatever he had planned for the afternoon, and then his business meeting the next day. Just another day on the road, but always with a little story to take away.