T
H
E
S
E
V
E
N
T
H
R
E
E
T
W
O
D
R
IF
T
T
R
IO
T
he South Island’s West Coast is associated more closely with storm
clouds than those created by sustained loss of tyre traction. The
area’s well known for its breathtaking natural scenery, definitely
not for retina-tearing liveries clinging to acutely sculpted fibreglass
bodywork. Finally, the crash of the Tasman Sea against rugged
shorelines is far more prominent than the scream of an RB or SR engine
bashing the limiter, backfiring while hooking gears, and blasting spent gases
through an external gate on the way to the next apex.
But, for a trio of good ol’ slidey boys from Reefton, a small town just
inland of Greymouth, the area is synonymous with both. Tourism New Zealand
might push the grandeur and beauty of the Coast’s natural splendour, but, for
Kieran Meijer, Mark Connell, and Aaron Andrews, it’s a region where an affinity
for modifying cars — and, perhaps most important, doing it all alongside your
good mates — was born.
“There’s, like, 1200 people at best in the town, so if you share common
interests with someone, you’re pretty much going to be friends,” Kieran quips.
The bond between Kieran and Aaron began at just eight years old, as
they played rugby alongside each other, while, a few years later, Mark showed
up in town.
“We grew up together, chased girls together, hung around the skate
park being youths, and, in the end, all got the same wallet-crippling hobby of
drifting,” we were told.The transition to sliding was natural for the trio. For all of its small-town
charm, Reefton has one hell of a skate park, albeit a somewhat brutal one
(anyone who’s skated it will know how uncompromising that surface is) offering
the first taste of antisocial freedom on wheels. Inspired by the scumbags of
CKY, menacing the poor innocents of Reefton’s limited footpaths lasted only as
long as it took to get behind the wheel.
Kieran reckons that the period of living in “shit flats”, coupled with an
introduction to driving — no, hooning, actually — by way of thrashing around
in “shit cars” pretty much doomed the lads to a life of throwing significant
amounts of the pay packet at turning fuel into noise, smoke, and sideways
motion. Stories of going lock-to-lock in Holdens on remote coal roads might’ve
had something to do with their penchant for looking out the side windows more
often than the screen. After all, a few giggles out on the back roads is where it
all starts, right?
The key catalyst came when Aaron, at the tender age of 17, showed up
with a Spec R S15. Mark and Kieran define it as a “holy shit moment”, and, after
another mate got himself an RX-7, the others rushed out to get in the driver’s
seat of their own turbo rear-wheel-drive (RWD) cars. Late-night missions from
Reefton across to Christchurch via the twists of Lewis Pass ensued, all to
be part of the then-booming, and more civilized, Christchurch street scene.
Cutting laps of the four avenues, making friends, and chasing ladies were all
part of the appeal, but, more important, of the trio’s friendship.