Heritage Auckland to Katikati private car — Lars's special occasion

The late afternoon sun, even in February, still had a good bit of warmth clinging to it as I pulled up to the Heritage Auckland. The lobby was bustling, a mix of tourists and business types, but I had eyes on the Arrivals door. My passenger was Lars, a gentleman from Denmark, off a flight from Singapore. He looked a bit tired, the kind of weary that comes from long-haul travel, but there was an anticipation about him too. His luggage was modest, a smart carry-on and a smaller duffel, suggesting this wasn't a deep exploration but a specific mission.

He'd booked me for a trip down to Katikati, on the Bay of Plenty coast. The reason? A wedding. His sister, who had moved out to New Zealand some years ago, was getting married and he was the last of the family to arrive. He mentioned, as we loaded his bags into the boot, that he was the ‘singing usher’ and still had a few practice runs to do. I smiled. NZ Intercity Cabs has seen a few unusual requests, but a singing usher was a new one.

The route out of Auckland, even on a Monday afternoon, was its usual slow creep. We navigated the southern motorways, past the Bombay Hills and into the Waikato. Lars pointed out the rolling green farmland, quite different from the more rugged landscapes he'd seen further west on his travels. He told me a bit about his sister, how she'd always been the adventurous one, chasing new horizons while he'd stayed closer to home in Copenhagen. He spoke with a quiet fondness, the kind that comes from deep familial bonds.

We made our usual coffee stop at the BP in Pokeno. Lars opted for a flat white, commenting on the surprisingly good quality of the coffee available on the road here. He seemed to relax a bit as we put more distance between us and the city. The conversation drifted to his sister's journey to New Zealand, the initial excitement, the challenges of settling in, and eventually, finding love and building a life near the coast. He was proud of her, I could tell. He also shared, with a slight chuckle, that his own musical aspirations had never quite taken off beyond amateur choirs and the odd karaoke night.

As we approached the Karangahake Gorge, the scenery began to shift. The gentle Waikato plains gave way to steeper hills, cloaked in native bush, and the winding Ohinemuri River. The road hugged the curves, a beautiful stretch that always gets my attention, even after all these years. Lars was quiet for a while, just watching the trees and the water. He said it reminded him of some of the glaciated valleys he’d seen in Norway, though with a distinctly New Zealand colour palette – the vibrant green, the dark earth.

I asked him if he needed to rehearse his song. He considered it, then shook his head. “No, I think it is best for the driver to have peace,” he said with a gentle smile. "Besides, my sister would likely judge me too harshly if I did it now. I must save my best for the day." I understood. The pressure before a big event can be immense, and sometimes, the quiet road is the best place to gather your thoughts. We chatted about Danish pastries, the historical significance of the Karangahake area, and the common Danish practice of 'hygge', which he explained as a feeling of cosy contentment and well-being.

We were on the final stretch, heading towards Katikati, the 'Avocado Capital' of New Zealand. The air started to carry that fresh, slightly salty tang of the sea. Lars had told me his sister lived on a small lifestyle block just outside the main town. He was looking forward to seeing his family, to the familiar chaos of a big reunion, and to his sister's special day. He mentioned, almost as an afterthought, that his contribution would be a song his sister had always loved, one that evoked their childhood.

As I pulled up to the address – a charming place with neat rows of avocado trees and a welcoming Pōhutukawa tree in the drive – his sister was already waiting by the gate. There was a hug, a flurry of greetings, and then they were walking towards the house together, a Danish brother and his Kiwi sister, reunited. I watched them go for a moment from the driver's seat. It was a good feeling, being part of that small bridge across the world, watching family come together. My job was done. I headed back towards the highway, the evening light softening the landscape, already anticipating the drive back to Auckland after a short break.