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First ride in over six months should have been the 20 minute trip between the dealers and the test centre. Unfortunately the dealer removed my GPS mounting for some reason, so I was riding on a single visit recollection from a different direction.
One and a half hours later and over an hour late, I arrived.

Now unfortunately at VOSA test centre, I asked if I could take pictures for my blog. Big mistake.

I’m not sure what secrets I could have revealed, but I was told in very strong terms that I could not mention what took place during the test. What official tosh. There’s a guy that measures things, weighs things, measures other things then passes or fails you. 

One thing for GS riders and this is a biggie, if you ever need a VOSA test, you know how we have two front mud guards? Well, the one nearest the tyre IS NOT A MUD GUARD, okay. Remember it’s a finger protector, or after market add on to keep sheep or monkeys off. It can be for anything else, but it’s not your mud guard. The beak is your mud guard. Get this wrong and you will fail, because the mud guard nearest the tyre doesn’t have an edge rim radius of 2 millimetres, but your beak does. Yep I know it’s rubbish, but we pay taxes so a man can look and measure that. Also on a GS, for the hazards to work when the ignition is turned off, you need to turn it on, activate the hazards, and THEN, turn the ignition off.
Anyway, I passed, so I now have another certificate I can present to whoever is next in the list.
To be honest, the guy today was quite pleasant, but only once the test had finished, it was as if chatting could in some way influence his decisions, as if by bantering back and forth the tape measure or scales would have been mysteriously biased in my favour. It’s that sort of bureaucracy that ticks me off.

Cycle power.

Still no engined locomotion, just two legs and a razor blade that’s called a saddle. Start out nice and easy, after all, this is the first ride since, well, since I can’t remember when, about 5 years ago. Certainly the cycle has remained in it’s packing all the time I was in the USA, because even with the best intentions to get fit, use the bikes, there was always something else to do.

So, 20 miles. Starting from city suburbs the first issue is traffic, lots of it, I’m wearing a hi vis jacket, but if drivers can’t see a huge motorcycle sometimes with lights on what chance a cyclist. Then there’s the roads, cyclists confined to scuttling in the gutters. Finally, I’m starting out with a twisted knee, so pain will be my partner, even on the flat bits.

Okay get ready. If you ever think of moving back, or indeed moving over here and want to bring your bike/s, don’t, it’s a nightmare. Today, having spent a couple of months dealing with customs, custom’s website, shippers (who were shiite beyond belief-here’s a tip, get in touch with Globe Busters the bike travel company they can help-I found out too late), then the DVLA, driver vehicle licensing authority and their website and their call centre, BMW Motorad and their customer help call centre and then their useless un-friendly homolgation department, the VOSA a vehicle testing authority and another government web site and call centre, I finally got back to a point where I was in front of someone, or not as the case turned out to be. VOSA have a centre where you take your bike because BMW don’t have a certificate of conformity for my bike, or any US bike I believe. There you will join a queue of truckers, if you happen to be in Liverpool region. Two girls are at a counter. You will get to the front and they’ll look at you blankly when you say the word “motorcycle”. You will then be sent to find Phil. Once found, Phil will tell you to fill the form in, which you should have from the VOSA website. I had it and I filled it in for Phil. Phil will then send you back to rejoin the trucker queue. Now remember you’ve already been here once and they looked stupefied, so it won’t feel promising. You’ll get to the front and say, “motorcycle sva test booking please”. Now at this point it’s worth recalling the millions of pounds of tax payer’s money that you have seen spent on this technologically slick and integrated system designed to simplify the collection of data critical to maintaining the well-being of the road system. You will recall the number of people that batted you round the call centre, once you managed to cascade through the endless options. You will no doubt recall all the time doing the work yourself, because despite all the man power that is employed to help, the best they could ever do was direct you to a tosspot of a website, where you couldn’t quite find anything that fits in with your specific requirements and therefore required another session with the call centre at VOSA, who then tell you the DVLA are the people you needed in the first place and “have you seen their website or been in touch with the DVLA call centre?” and you say, “not yet,” but know all they will eventually do is refer you back to the person who is currently speaking to you at VOSA after having been through their call centre options, the joy of being passed from pillar to post and the obligatory refer to our website/call them back scenario, at least twice,…so do not be surprised when the same two counter attendants look at you and say…”We don’t do bikes. You need to speak with Anne”. That’s right, WE DO NOT DO BIKES, YOU NEED TO SPEAK TO ANNE”. So, at the end of these millions of pounds of bureaucratic fiasco, annoyance and ignorance, there’s Anne, just Anne, the only person capable of sorting out several months of anxiety and stress…just Anne. “So can I speak with Anne please?” “She’s away on indefinite sick leave”. And that’s where the whole system goes completely and utterly arse up and finally farts in your face. Anne is away and all those millions, all those call centres, the whole mechanics of government stop. I was less than impressed. I passed on my lack of being impressed to the two girls as effectively as possible, without causing offence. A few calls were made and now my bike is booked in for its test next Monday. It appears Anne is not indispensable after all. So that’s all sorted out, done and dusted. Not so fast. That would just be too simple wouldn’t it? Monday is the day the BMW dealer, who currently stores my bike, is closed. I am allowed one ride to the test centre and then another to a suitable place for any modifications if it’s not passed. But if the dealer is closed, I’ll need to get the bike on Saturday and ride it somewhere. I called in at the police station. “You will be riding illegally and will be fined if we stop you”. So there you have it. A smooth integrated system, that falls to pieces when one person falls ill and can’t be fulfilled anyway unless you have a car and bike trailer. What a complete load of Taurus turds. Come over as a tourist with your bike, that’s just a snip in comparison, although you will be charged and have paperwork to do which will make a Nicaraguan border crossing seem like a picnic and a bargain. Just don’t bring your bike over with the intention of registering it here, Customs don’t want you to do it, the DVLA will hate you, BMW Motorad won’t even speak to you, VOSA won’t know what the hell you are talking about unless Anne is there and the Police will be looking to issue you with a fine and penalty points if they can, and as if this isn’t enough, they will all charge you money while taking the piss, for example, a question on a form today…what is the weight of your battery? Who knows that? I asked if they meant a battery that was fully charged or flat? Well they started it!!!!

The bike was due to arrive on Monday 20th and this conversation takes place on the Friday prior,

“It must arrive before 4pm, because the BMW dealer is having a member of staff in, especially, to accept the bike, is that okay?”

“Yes between 12 noon and 4 pm. Oh and one more thing, we’ve noticed that the crate the bike is in, is twice as big as we thought, but because it’s so late, we’ll do you a favour and only charge you an extra 50%”.

“That’s a favour? Why are you telling me anyway, shouldn’t you be chasing the shipper who got it to you with inaccurate documents?”

“Well they’ll say no won’t they?”

“But I’ve already paid you for delivery, we have a contract”

“Yes but that was based on the wrong size crate, so we are doing this as a saving to you”.

“Do you honestly believe that?”

This went on for some time, they did offer not to charge me the extra, but keep my original fee for delivery, if I agreed to collect the bike rather than have them deliver it. I kid you not, this guy thought he was being the epitome of customer service, by charging me only an extra 50% for someone else’s mistake.

Well I was being blackmailed effectively, so said I’d give the driver a cheque for the difference, when the bike arrived.

“Cash only”.

“Okay a card over the phone?”

“Fine, but we charge a  surcharge for using a card”

“I’ll pay it into your account directly tomorrow then at the bank, if you give me your details”

“Okay”.

Come Monday at 12 noon, I’m at the dealers. Come 2:30pm I’m chasing up for an eta.

They’ll call the driver and get back to me.

Come 3pm I’m calling again.

Same again at 3:30pm.

At 4pm they ring and ask if I can get the dealer to stay open another hour.

“And if I can’t?”

“We’ll bring it back until a time we can deliver that way again”

“It’s already taken you over a month to get it here, how long before you pass this way again, another month?”

At 4:30 they arrive. The dealer has stayed open. We unload the bike and the shipper calls. Can I pay them cash?

“But I’ve paid it into your account on Saturday, I’ve got a receipt for it,, I’ll show it the guys with the van”. 

“We need to have the cash because it’s not showing in our accounts”.

“Could that be because despite having the bike for a month, you only decided to look at the documents and the crate the day you loaded it, then you call me and I pay you as soon as possible, but because banks don’t open and work on a Sunday, it may not have cleared, but I do have the receipt and the bike is now out of its crate and locked away, so you couldn’t have it back and the dealer and me have been here longer than we should have been because you failed to deliver on time, so why can’t you wait, like you’ve made me wait, because of your incompetence”… and breath in.

“We need your credit card number, so we can charge you if the money doesn’t clear”.

“Go away. Go away now”.

Still have to have it MOT’d and serviced, then registered, so can’t ride it until all the paper work is dealt with and of course suitable amounts of money paid to Government departments. This may be more sophisticated than the Central American border crossings, but at least there you get to see the people that are extorting money from you.

It appears that this advanced, technically proficient, super linked, road strewn country of the UK has a few problems in getting a bike from the south to the north west.

I’ve been cursing customs for their bureaucratic red tape, when it’s actually cleared them and has been sitting with the shippers, who” don’t have anything going that way for a while”. That’s all of 150 miles away. I’ve even paid up front for delivery.

Now they’ve given me a date for shipping to a local dealers (MOT, UK spec changes etc..). It’s the 20th April. 

The dealer shuts on Mondays and guess what the 20th is?

Then I get an email from Karen…she gets calls from T mobile in the USA saying my mobile phone line has an error. The line was cancelled in early March after emails, calls and letters with a series of documents having to be posted, after having to wait an additional 90 days, after having to call to get the sim unblocked, after having gone to the UK T mobile to get a new sim, but being refused a contract because of no current UK credit history so having to keep topping up the stupid thing. Plus I’m still getting billed by T Mobile and am having to sort that out.

But can you imagine all that inconvenience of having to take a phone call or two…

Also, there’s still the matter of finding a job, living out of boxes because there’s no room to unpack. In fact most of my things aren’t even here with me, they are in a friend’s shed.

 

But hey, can you imagine having to take a phone call or two…that must be such a strain.

Bike has arrived in the country. I haven’t got it yet, but at least it’s here somewhere. Now the shippers want $3000. It gets more every time I talk to someone about it.

That’s on top of all the money I’ve already paid to get my other belongings here. $3000 is what I was quoted as being the total for both. It’s almost doubled.

Now the bureaucracy starts.

Don’t worry if you are just shipping over to the UK for a trip, it’s not as bad as it will be for me, I’m importing to re-register here.

So money out and no more coming in.

I was offered a job two weeks ago. I accepted. Now I’ve heard nothing about starting. I get no response to emails. No idea what’s happening there, but in the meantime I haemorrhage money.

It’s about the time I’d have been coming back to renew my visa, so that’s one lot of paperwork I’ll be avoiding. I guess I’ll just have to console myself with whatever divorce papers Karen has decided I should receive. Bless!

I hope I can afford to insure and run the bike when I finally get it!!!!

It appears that the bike is finally on its way here and my belongings should be unloaded tomorrow. Now don’t think that’s the end of things, because it’s not.

 

Due to the shipper changing all the details, I’m still trying to work out how I can pay them from over here. Credit card is limited as I have no UK credit. An attempt at an online transfer just ended up costing me fees to send my money to the USA and then having it returned.

In addition, I’ve been told there’s about $800 handling fee to be added at this end and that’s if I go and pick it up myself. 

The bike is being delivered to the other end of the country and it’s not as simple as picking it up and riding it back. It’s got to be collected in a van, go to a dealer who will change the lights and supply an official note. This can then be taken to the Govt Department, where they will take money off me to stamp a bit of paper. I then take it to a vehicle test centre to have it checked, for which I pay again, then back to the Govt Department to pay road tax, then get it insured, and then I can ride it.

 

Gee thanks Karen. You’ve just made life one long giggle.

So we are into February and all my belongings are still in Seattle. How come you may ask. Well between the Banks and the Shippers, every conceivable obstacle must have been put in the way. 

I’ve heard that Tom made it all the way to Tierra Del Fuego and has flown home, no doubt to be welcomed by his Wife and family. So it seems one of us fulfilled the aims of the adventure, just not with the Three Teas charity element being supported.

Strange how these things turn out, because his wife was the one who wasn’t keen on him going.

Doubt I’ll be in touch with Tom other than to send him congratulations.

It may seem petty but I don’t want to hear about what I should have done, second hand.

Shipping the bike from Seattle has turned into a bit of a nightmare. So far nothing has moved, not the bike, or any of my belongings. It appears shipping from Colombia is easier than from the USA. Even Panama managed to get matters sorted out faster than the US.

Not only that, but the price has almost doubled and the latest is that instead of delivering to Liverpool half will go to London.

Job front seems to be another major hurdle. The jobs that are available wouldn’t enable me to afford any accommodation, without eating into emergency savings every month. 

New Year at the Lake’s Cottage was as pleasant as possible and did give time for things to settle down, although the memories of previous visits in happier times did loom constantly.

I can’t say that 2009 looks promising so far, but who knows what tomorrow might bring.

 

It’s saddening to be watching the Paris Dakar in Argentina and Chile on TV, when I should have been there.

While the practicalities of daily life have been disturbing enough to keep me distracted, the emotional side of the events that have unfolded, have been, fortunately, secondary. Not so today, or for the next few days.

 

I’m moving to a cottage in the Lake District. A beautiful location, but one full of emotional ties. It’s where Karen celebrated her 40th Birthday, but even more memorable, it’s where we spent part of our honeymoon, on the way up to Scotland.

So, this should be the icing on the cake.