Gone are the days when such trips were filled with games of I Spy. Today the back seat occupants (my daughter and her mate) are immersed in their iPhones and headphones.
They were content doing what teenagers do on their phones, which for a large part of the trip was Snapchatting with their mates in other cars from our Red Beach surf club to see who was where and what they were doing.
"They're sitting in a car," I suggested, to a groan that let me know, once again, that I'm not very funny.
But the sky fell in when we drove off the flash toll road and turned on to the Pacific Coast Highway with its old, bumpy tar-seal and no internet. It was a black hole that came and went as we cruised down SH2, me careful not to speed along the Matata Straight, and into Whakatane.
"How do people live here?" the two in the back pondered, as they sat, fingers and thumbs idle, but poised.
It was, for me, an irrelevance. My Spotify playlist had been downloaded so they had loads of songs from the 1980s to listen to and I was as happy as I always am to be out on the road.
I love driving, and with 20 surfboards on the trailer behind me I was in no rush.
And being "switched off" brings with it a special contentment. Knowing you can't be contacted can be deeply satisfying (unless you need to contact someone yourself and then it's bloody annoying).
We've holidayed at places in the Far North that have no internet coverage. It usually takes a few days for everyone to realise searching for Wi-Fi is useless and that phones are good for taking photos, but not much else.
But it is wonderfully relaxing being off the grid.
There's another big black spot from Ohope to Opotiki and then again through the Gorge — both of which were greeted with amazement and disgust from the teenagers.
"Dad," my daughter asked in despair, "do we really have to listen to your music?"
Of course, I generously said no, and asked what else they wanted to hear but with no radio stations to their liking and no internet to play their Spotify tunes, it was the 1980s in more ways than one. I could only chuckle.
They had the last laugh though. After the first day of competition and an exhausting day at the beach I was looking forward to relaxing in front of some Super Rugby.
With a beer in hand I reached for the remote but soon realised the motel didn't have Sky (seriously, I know it's sleepy old Gisborne, but not having Sky?)
"Oh Dad," my daughter said, with a smile. "That's such a pity. Do you want to play I Spy instead?"
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