Holiday Inn Auckland Airport to Snells Beach private car — Linh's business trip

The early spring air still had a bit of a bite to it that Sunday morning, even down near the airport. September in Auckland, you never quite know what you’re going to get. I pulled up to the Holiday Inn, a familiar sight, and there she was, Linh N, looking every bit the businesswoman. She had a smart, navy blue suit on, her dark hair pulled back neatly, and a single, stylish overnight bag. She was early, always a good sign.

She said she was heading up to Snells Beach for a conference, a tech gathering that had brought her up from Ho Chi Minh City for the week. She’d been in Auckland for a few days already, attending meetings downtown, and now it was time to get out of the city and focus on the main event. I grabbed her bag, gave the boot a quick wipe-down – the dampness from the overnight dew was starting to bead – and helped her settle into the back seat. The car was clean, the heater was on low, just right for the chill.

We cleared the airport roundabout and merged onto State Highway 1 North. The usual Sunday morning quiet was starting to give way to the early travellers heading out of the city. We passed the turn-offs for Manukau, then the city suburbs, the landscape slowly opening up as we headed north. Linh seemed content to watch the world go by, her gaze drifting over the unfolding green hills and the occasional scattered farmhouses. It’s a drive I’ve done countless times, but I always try to see it anew, noticing the way the light hits the ridges, the patches of native bush clinging to the steeper slopes.

As we drove north, the sky cleared a little, revealing a soft, watery blue. We swept past Warkworth, the gateway to the Matakana Coast, and the scenery started to change. This stretch is mostly winding roads, and it's easy for thought to wander. Linh had mentioned she was part of a team developing new software solutions for supply chain management – complex stuff, but she spoke about it with a quiet passion that suggested she found it genuinely engaging. She talked about the pressure of deadlines, the satisfaction of a problem solved, and the long hours involved. She explained that this particular conference in Snells Beach was a chance to network with potential clients and partners from around the region, a critical step for her company’s expansion plans.

We stopped just past Warkworth for a break. She decided to stretch her legs and grab a coffee from a small café near the main road. I topped up the tank, the familiar click of the pump a punctuation mark in the quiet morning. The air was fresher up here, carrying the faint scent of the sea, though Snells Beach itself was only a short drive away now. Back in the car, she seemed a little more relaxed, the early morning tension having eased with the mileage. She told me a little about her family back home in Vietnam, her parents’ small business, and her younger sister who was studying at university. It’s those small personal details that make the long hours on the road disappear; passengers sharing little pieces of their lives, weaving them into the fabric of the journey.

As we turned off State Highway 1 and headed towards the coast, the scenery changed. The hills became more rounded, dotted with more trees, and we started catching glimpses of the blue water of the various inlets and bays. The road wound through small communities, each with its own quiet charm. Snells Beach itself is a picturesque spot, nestled against the water, with boats bobbing in the harbour. I navigated the residential streets, looking for the address of the boutique hotel where she was staying for the conference. Her hotel was a lovely place, overlooking the water, clearly designed to take advantage of the stunning views.

I helped her with her bag to the entrance. "Thank you, Harry," she said, a genuine smile finally breaking through. "It was a very pleasant drive." I watched her go, a small figure heading into the modern hotel, about to immerse herself in a week of business high above the quiet beauty of the Hauraki Gulf. My job was done for the day, and it was time to head back south, the empty car a silent companion on the return journey, the lingering scent of that fresh coastal air clinging faintly to the upholstery.