This, from a cocktail bar with frustrating internet connection

I quickly grew sick of Auckland and left as soon as I could, in the new wheels (as described previously).

I should mention that almost as soon as I was released from quarabtine a woman got out of a car and walked within 3 feet of me, before I had a chance to dive out of the way. Less than an hour later I walked into a corner shop to buy an iced coffer….. mask-less! As I left drinking it I felt fortunate not to be clapped in irons. Also that morning I shook hands with 2 complete strangers. When I bought their campervan.

I’ll try not to drone on about the van but I think some details are necessary. It was advertised at $11,500 but I ended up payion $10,000. Time will tell if that’s a good deal.

After the deal was struck I set off for the coast. The nice German couple messaged to say the girl had left her lucky spoon in the drying rack, so I guess I have that hostage should anything go wrong. All fine with the machine so far though, and I’m enjoying how wiggley they make their highways here.

Above is the main road to Wellington (their capital). There is no more main, or less wiggley route. As a side note; when I pulled over to take the photo I realised I was almost out of petrol. Fortunately it was pretty much downhill from their.

I must apologise; there are photos of volcanoes and geisers and giant redwood forests but this cocktail bar does not have the bandwidth to upload them (at a speed that I find tollerable) so I will close with ponderances on the automobile.

The Germans told me they’d treated it well, and tried not to exceed 80kph “to minimise fuel consumption and engine-ware”. Well, car, you’re under new management now. And your gentle retirement will have to wait. I’ve probably spent too long deciding what to call it. First on the list was “Mister Macawber”. As a reminder to be frugal when travelling around. But Macawber is a pompus and vain character. Not right at all.

A front runner for a long time was: Khaaan! Very useful if I ever need to yell at it, and would take me one step closer to becoming William Shatner

I’m not supersticious but I think naming a car after a villian is asking for trouble though.

A cars name should be in keeping with it’s character (or the character one wishes for it), and when I turn off the ignition it splutters like an old shire-horse having a good cough.

So I’ve called it Boxer. The stallwart supporter of the commander in chief, even if that chief is a despotic pig.