A Curious Encounter
A long straight road stretched out before us rising slightly in the distance, edged with tall and wild hedges. Max, Jaysen and I walked slowly on the grass verge on the righthand side of the road while cars and trucks sped past. There is more road walking on Te Araroa than you might like, a consequence of the trail being technically unfinished. There are still ongoing disputes with landowners about the routing of the trail.
On this particular section, the road walking was unpleasant. The road was fairly narrow, and the users seemed not to acknowledge or care for our presence on the fringes. We suddenly reached a wide driveway. The curb curved away from the traffic and led to a small grassy area in front of a tall hedge. This hedge was perfectly trimmed and exotic as opposed to the messy mass that we had been walking next to. The grassy area and hedge were repeated the other side of the driveway, and in between was a tall black gate. We felt trapped by the imposing greenery and traffic noise but took the opportunity to sit on the curb and make some lunch.
I hacked some sausage and hunks of cheese into my wrap and untidily rolled it up. As I took my first bite, a sleek silver Mercedes pulled up at the gate beside me, and the gate swung open mechanically. The window rolled down as the fancy car approached and a man with dark sunglasses on peered out.
“Are you on a pilgrimage?” he asked, “I see people walking on this road all the time.” Surprised by the unusual assumption, we explained what Te Araroa was and that it followed the road. The man nodded and wished us ‘bon appetit’, and left.
Just ten minutes later, the Mercedes pulled back into the driveway, and the man rolled down his window again. “Do you like cars?” he asked expectantly. The question took me by surprise, and I didn’t know how to respond. In my head, I thought ‘well, no, not really’ but Jaysen quickly said that he did and the man replied, “come in.” The window raised and the car rolled forwards through the gate. We packed away and walked hesitantly along the driveway. The gate closed slowly and silently behind us but startled me when it clunked shut. Immediately the area opened up into an expansive field with a couple of buildings in the centre, a tarmac road led us through the short grass to an oval parking area, like a stream to a pond.
The car’s engine fell silent, and the man climbed out. He took off his sunglasses and revealed a friendly wrinkled face adorned with untidy white stubble. He strode towards us, smiling and shook our hands before ushering us over to a ginormous shed. The wooden exterior was faintly red and white but looked tired as if it was painted a long time ago. The huge doors were open and wonky on their hinges. I gazed into the darkness and saw rows of cloaked shapes in the gloom. He explained proudly that ten years ago he had bought the largest equestrian centre in New Zealand and converted the indoor arena into a garage for his seventy cars.
Inside the giant shed, there were rows of dusty tiered seating down each side overlooking a dirty concrete floor. A strand of hay whipped around my feet as I stepped inside. The mysterious man pulled the sheet from the closest car to uncover a yellow Porsche 911. I drew breath and glanced at Max and Jaysen in disbelief. We followed the man around the arena, and he told us a bit about each car — a Ferrari just because it was cool, a few cars that were used in movies and cost a fortune, a maroon Rolls Royce just like the one the Queen prefers. He talked and walked lazily, shuffling in his battered trainers, sweatpants and hoodie.
“Do you want to see my man cave?” he asked at some point, and he took our nervous silence as a yes. He led us to one side of the enormous warehouse and turned a black plastic handle on a green door. We each had to duck slightly as we entered the room. I stood, stunned, as nude women on all the walls confronted me, pages ripped from magazines. Our host flopped into an old leather chair after giving us each a small Heineken from the mini-fridge. He commenced the long and incredible story of how he amassed his wealth.
It turned out that he was an inventor. One simple plastic attachment for rakes and shovels allowed less stooping and saved countless rakers and shovelers from back pain. Max, Jaysen and I, still standing awkwardly, sipped our beers at every pause in the story to avoid speaking. The inventor told us about his passion for collecting rare and exciting cars. He had taken the Mercedes out for a spin simply because he hadn’t driven it for a while, but his favourite car was his Nissan Cube because, being tall, it was the most comfortable, and had an ample boot. He hadn’t worked for thirteen years and had lived in Thailand for a while, married a Thai woman and had a daughter. His daughter, ten, had never known him to do a day’s work in her life and enjoyed an inconceivable upbringing in a swanky modern house next door to the massive garage.
Gradually we relaxed and started to ask questions. We grew more comfortable with our surroundings and had a few more beers. We enjoyed a couple of hours with this man, listening to his philosophy on life. He was very humble and acknowledged that he was lucky to have invented the right thing at the right time — he admitted that he wasn’t special or a genius, just lucky and a good negotiator. It was a bizarre afternoon and an encounter I will never forget.
Eventually, the amiable man offered us a ride up the next point that Te Araroa veered cross country. We piled into the Cube, the boot not even close to full with our three backpacks in it. We exited through the black gate. It felt great to skip the demoralising road walk and get to the fields and hills again, but the driver took us on a detour to his favourite cafe before he would let us get out and start hiking. We pulled into a petrol station and, confused, walked into the Wild Bean Cafe. A brilliant example of his humility, he ordered four flat whites and engaged in a good-natured chat with the barista, whom he knew by name.
We travelled a little further and finished our coffees on the journey, got out at the trailhead and the man waved out of the window of his Cube as he did a U-turn and drove off. We turned to each other and laughed at the extraordinary encounter we had just had, and I smiled as I climbed over a stile into a field.
