Parnell address to Ohope Beach private car — Linh's business trip

The morning sky over Parnell was that soft, diffused grey that often hangs around the city before the sun properly commits. A few cheeky seagulls were already squabbling over something near the harbour. My passenger, Linh, was waiting on the porch, a compact suitcase at her feet, looking every bit the professional. She’d mentioned she was travelling for business, heading out to the Eastern Bay of Plenty.

She was originally from Vietnam, having lived in Auckland for a few years now, working for an import-export firm. Her role involved coordinating with suppliers and clients, and this trip was about meeting a new contact in Ohope, a small stretch of coast I know well. It’s a bit of a drive, but manageable for a long day, though this time she was staying the night.

We set off south. The usual Friday morning traffic snaked through the city, but once we hit the motorway proper, things started to open up. Linh was quiet initially, observing the changing landscape as Auckland’s eastern suburbs gave way to the farmland and rolling hills of the Waikato. She had a thoughtful expression, occasionally glancing at her phone, no doubt checking emails or finalising notes for her meeting.

Around lunchtime, I pulled into a bakery in Tirau. The air was sharp with the scent of diesel fumes from passing trucks and the sweeter aroma of baking bread. We grabbed a couple of pies – mine a classic steak and cheese, hers a slightly more adventurous chicken and camembert. She commented on the simplicity of it, the straightforward goodness. It was a small interaction, but it felt like a little crack in the formality, a shared moment of simple sustenance before the final leg.

As we continued east, the landscape began to change again, becoming more rural, more open. The road wound through Rotorua, past the lakes, and then along the coast towards Whakatāne, the air gaining a faint saltiness. Linh pointed out a particular cluster of trees by a riverbank, saying it reminded her of a place back home. She spoke about her family, the distance, the occasional bittersweet pang. It’s a familiar story for many of my passengers who have relocated for work or study – the dedication to careers, balanced with the pull of home and loved ones far away. She didn't dwell on it, but the wistfulness was there, a quiet undercurrent to her otherwise professional demeanour.

The approach to Ohope Beach is always quite lovely. The road dips and rises, offering glimpses of the ocean through the trees, and then BAM – there it is. Wide, golden sand, clear blue water, stretching out under a sky that had finally decided to shed its grey cloak. It felt like a breath of fresh air, a proper escape. I parked outside her accommodation, a neat little place overlooking the dunes.

She thanked me, her smile genuine and relaxed. For someone who had been on the road for a few hours of business travel, she seemed remarkably serene. As I headed back towards the main road, the low afternoon sun glinting off the water, I thought about Linh and her quiet strength. It’s a long way from Vietnam to Ohope, and yet, here she was, navigating both the business world and the distances between people with such grace. It’s those journeys, both the miles on the road and the inner ones, that make these trips so much more than just driving someone from A to B.