The Legend of Nemo

Back in 2011, while on a working holiday in New Zealand and after one too many glasses of wine, I found myself scrolling through a local buy/sell used car website. That’s when I saw it:

1991 Mazda Autozam.

Painted like a clownfish, fins and tail included.

SOLD.

I messaged the seller with the kind of confidence that only comes from alcohol and/or complete disregard for adult responsibilities. By the following afternoon, I was the proud new owner of a car that looked like it belonged in a Pixar spin-off for people who make impulsive decisions.

I had bought a fish car - a literal fish car named Nemo, from an aquarium that had burnt down in Mapua. A fire-sale, in every sense.

But I didn’t just buy a car that day; I adopted a kindred spirit on wheels, and together, we set off to explore the wild, wavy heart of Aotearoa.

Christmas Day by Lake Wanaka was unlike any I’d ever experienced - sun shining, water glistening, and me, sitting in a fish-shaped car, opening presents with the quiet hum of nature all around. It was hilariously unconventional, but there was something magical about it. As I unwrapped gifts in the belly of that quirky little vehicle, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace and gratitude. No tinsel, no snow, no roast dinner - just the simplicity of being present in a beautiful place, thousands of miles from tradition, yet somehow closer than ever to the true spirit of the season.

Next came our linguistic pilgrimage: a visit to Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateaturipukakapikimaungahoronukupokaiwhenuakitanatahu - the longest place name in the world. 

Nemo parked gallantly alongside the sign, as if he could pronounce it himself. We both tried. We failed. But the photo of him next to that absurd tongue-twister remains a personal treasure, right up there with “the time Nemo got a speeding ticket”.

So apparently, a fish car going 11km/h over the limit is still breaking the law, even if it’s on a scenic road where the sheep outnumber humans 50 to 1. 

It wasn’t until a few weeks after this particularly enthusiastic cruise down State Highway One where the speed limit signs were, in my opinion, more of a vibe - I received the letter in the post. “Notice of Infringement,” it read. Apparently, Nemo had been clocked doing 91km/h in a 80km/h zone. I was genuinely gutted there was no photographic evidence of the crime scene. Nemo, eyes wide, flying down the highway like rebellion in motion. I still have that letter to this day - if you ever want to feel simultaneously shamed and proud, get caught speeding in a fish car. I should have deployed the flippers. 

In Christchurch, we experienced a 5.1 magnitude earthquake while parked up overnight in a caravan park.  The ground shook, the windows rattled, and for a surreal moment, it felt like we were out at sea, being tossed by a rogue current, the fish car bobbing like a coral-colored buoy.  When it stopped, Nemo was still unfazed and parked between two campervans like nothing happened. True fish car grit right there.

Mount Cook National Park was our peak. Winding roads, towering snowcaps, and that surreal silence that makes you feel like a guest in nature’s cathedral.

It felt like driving through a postcard. We stopped often - not always by choice - but the views were always worth it and it gave fellow sightseers a photo opportunity. I like to think they admired his spirit.

By the time we parted ways, Nemo had clocked thousands of kilometres, made dozens of strangers smile, and taught me that sometimes the most ridiculous decisions make for the best stories. When I finally sold him to a Finnish traveller and left New Zealand, it felt like saying goodbye to a loyal friend.

But Nemo’s adventures didn’t end there.

A few years later, I managed to track Nemo down - a family of four in Mangere were apparently living in him at the time. It was the sort of heartwarming, slightly bizarre update that made me wonder if maybe the car really was magic.  

Even Ellen Degeneres somehow caught wind of Nemo. The fish car. From a burnt-down aquarium. It was the full Finding Nemo arc.

I’ll never know where he is now. Maybe Nemo’s still cruising around or maybe he’s finally found a quiet pond to retire in. Either way, he lives on in every impulsive decision I now make, every road trip playlist, and every time someone says, “You did what in New Zealand?”