Memorable New Year's Eves?
The one that ended with a naked swim in the Ngunguru River springs to mind.
It seemed to be a good way to welcome the new millennium.
The sun came up, there was no mass shorting of the world's power supply, I put my clothes back on and got on with life. It hadn't been a particularly crazy night, quiet even, although one of us fell into a cactus plant.
That was 17 years ago? Crikey.
Camping grounds feature heavily in many Northlanders' New Year memories.
The teenaged me and friends ended up next to a group of Aucklanders one year at Waipu Cove.
They had a beer funnel - a drinking device designed to get beer into your stomach as quickly as possible. Our lot made it to midnight, I'm not sure they did.
A few years earlier, younger, dumber, and making forays into alcohol at Ruakaka, we met up at a mate's place. I say mate, but I haven't seen him since. He had promised to get some booze. He did - he had skimmed an inch out of every spirit bottle in his parents' drink cabinet.
It was awful.
Not as bad as the year a road trip was destined for Paihia - the go-to location for New Years even in the '80s.
Except that we detoured to a remote location where my mate's girlfriend was staying with her family.
It was memorable for the long-drop - whoever dug it went wide rather than deep, it would have been 30cm deep max.
I was lucky to see it - we had to shuffle over to the owner of the section and ask permission to stay the night. I think the parents of my mate's girlfriend were hoping the owner would say no. Turned out I knew him and we were welcomed with a big grin.
We were 15, maybe 16.
These days, as the parent of a teenage girl, I don't think I'd be as welcoming if two teenage boys turned up with a box of warm beers, and one of them also harboured a desire to spend the night in a tent with my daughter.
It's a tradition to celebrate New Year's Eve with a few drinks. Given the number of people out and about on the booze, it's a miracle more people don't come to some sort of grief on December 31.
Personally, New Year's Eve is a much quieter affair these days. A couple of beers, some wine with dinner and asleep by midnight.
It doesn't mean that we won't be camping though. But we have deliberately decided to move into the camping ground after New Year's Eve.
I wouldn't want to end up next to a group of Aucklanders with a beer funnel. Or some idiots who have skimmed the top inch off every bottle of spirits in their parents' drink cabinet.
The worker logged 437 hours in five weeks - all of which was unpaid.