Trials and Tribulations of the Modern Day Aucklander

Growing up semi-rural (Karaka) (crazy horse girl), I’d always dreamt of moving to the big smoke because to me happiness was being able to exhibit Chinese and Sushi “under the same roof!” at the 277 food court. As an irresponsible University student this resulted in me having a BMI greater than the All Blacks score in the New Zealand v Japan 1995 Rugby World Cup game (very long metaphor, if you know you know), and as an almost adult with an impressive portfolio of parking tickets – let me tell you, the rental prices are a real kick in the kidney. Here’s what they don’t tell you about the City of Sails.

First and foremost, be prepared to spend days in the car each week, even if your total k’s driven is in the single digits. Precious days that I could have spent indulging in three-quarters of a Nicholas Sparks novel, only to realise upon reaching the plot twist that I’d read it three years earlier.

Thinking of driving to Omaha on Easter weekend? Think again. Lest we forget the fateful incident of the shooting on SH1 that wreaked havoc on our white upper-class civilisation. Those, mainly belonging to the top 1% who have never experienced a queue at the airport, wanting to reach their sense-dulling colour-schemed beach homes were in for a rude awakening. Travel times were in excess of five hours for some unlucky-lucky Aucklanders as they sat in contemplation as to why they had not commissioned the heli for the treacherous trip.

This being said, travel can also be problematic for the rest of us, too. The inability of Auckland drivers to drive-to-the-conditions-and-when-they-change-reduce-your-speed in the rain is somewhat legendary. Believe me, there is no better way to majorly ruin your commute, and your day - than a bit of drizzle. The hours spent agonizing over learning the art of driving, complete with our mother’s almost translucent knuckles gripping the door handle for dear life -miraculously dissipates with the precipitation, and we are left with the city in fully-fledged crisis. Honestly, I have seen people having less difficulty navigating a Boeing 777 than the Toyota Yaris next to me on the motorway in a scattered shower.  

But what about public transport, you ask? Yes, what about it. Unfortunately those in charge of providing it to the city coincidentally forget that it exists. That is after all the only possible reason there could be for there not to be a bus lane included in the 170 year effort at widening the Western motorway. The train also works very well for those who live within a 3km radius of a suburban train station and work in a 3km radius of Britomart. In an unexpected twist, I do not fall under this broad category, neither do any of my extended family five removed.

Sadly there is little respite for those who wish to take their Yaris for a spin around the streets of Auckilangi, and if you are looking for a way to avoid the traffic you won’t find it here. Surprisingly, the fastest way to ruin a best kept secret is to post it on a website, and no, riding a bike is not a solution - it’s a death wish. That being said – if you have any- please, do not hesitate to send them through to me.

Too long, didn’t read:

• I love 277
• I often park illegally
• Toyota Yaris’s struggle in the rain