'Today is gunna be the day that i get my motorbike'. As arranged i went to the clearing agents office for 10.30, the taxi driver having helped himself to some of my change. More paperwork was signed then we set off for the docks in search of my bike.
After clearing a couple of checkpoints on the way into the port, we made our way deep into the storage area. I was expecting plenty of damage being done to the bike whilst it was in transit. The first crate we came to contained a bike, the crate had suffered a bi of damage but the bike looked ok, i started to worry. We searched high and low but we couldn't find my crate.
We went to another warehouse. Once again once again there was another damaged crate containing a brand new 1200 BMW. Apparently the bike had been there for 2 years, no one having collected it.
Things weren't looking good really, 2 bikes, 2 damaged crates. The next warehouse we came to contained my crate, to my surprise it looked intact with no signs of damage. I was told not to touch the crate until the customs man had inspected it. An hour later i was allowed to open the crate in front of the customs man. He checked everything as i unpacked and made sure everything tallied with the carnet.
When i packed the bike in the crate in Darwin, i made sure that it would be easy to get it back up and running. Twenty minutes later i was ready to roll. However, i was then told to hurry up and wait while the customs man went back to his office on the other side of town so he could stamp my papers, the only trouble now was that it was lunch time.
The warehouse boys started to gather round the bike while i waited for the customs man. A group of about 10 were first on the scene. Each one of them felt it was their duty to check that the throttle cable still worked. There were also 3 main questions, how much? Where you from? How many km to the litre. 1 lakh, England, 20 to the litre being the answers.
The 10 guys disappeared to be replaced by another 10 guys. Same check of the throttle cable, same questions. The 10 guys disappeared to be replaced by the first 10 guys who by now had finished their lunch. 1 lakh, England, 20 to the litre. They then disappeared to be rep......., it just went on and on.
Finally, as if by magic, the clearing agent appeared with his 2 sidekicks. I was then told i had to pay a storage charge, what about that then? I was now ready to leave the port. The 2 sidekicks then asked me to follow them to the gates, explaining to me that they were both expecting a 'gift'. Eventually i got the bike outside the gates. 'Can we please have our gift'? 'No mate' i said, 'You have been paid by your boss and i have to put a stop to people helping themselves to my money'.
I got down the road and realised that i didn't know the way to the insurance company's office. I had to be there before 15.30 so that i could take out the 'local insurance'. I asked a tuk tuk driver if he could lead the way and i would follow him. He wouldn't do it but insisted that i give him a 'gift' for talking to him. His mate agreed and off we went to the insurance office. I got there about 15.20, just in time. I then had to push the bike about a mile against the traffic to the insurance mans office. I had my full riding gear on and i was sweating like a kipper when i got there.
The bike was like a magnet. Ten guys instantly gathered, checking my throttle again, 1 lakh, England, 20 to the litre. To cut a very long story short, i got 3rd party insurance for 1 year for 10 quid, what about that then? I managed to find my way back to the hotel car park. The security man said, 'Can't park that theer kid' or words to that effect. The hotel manager was called, who was a decent friend of mine, and in the bike went, much to the dislike of the security man.
The time was now about 18.00. I got into the hotel room and stripped off. The sweat was pouring down my arms and legs and i was very dehydrated and hungry. Two litres of water, a chicken masala and a shower later i was sorted. I had managed to get everything sorted so i planned to leave the next morning. The middle of the night brought a tremendous storm, the lightening cracks were by far the loudest i had ever heard. I could only hope that the bike would be ok in the morning.
After clearing a couple of checkpoints on the way into the port, we made our way deep into the storage area. I was expecting plenty of damage being done to the bike whilst it was in transit. The first crate we came to contained a bike, the crate had suffered a bi of damage but the bike looked ok, i started to worry. We searched high and low but we couldn't find my crate.
We went to another warehouse. Once again once again there was another damaged crate containing a brand new 1200 BMW. Apparently the bike had been there for 2 years, no one having collected it.
Things weren't looking good really, 2 bikes, 2 damaged crates. The next warehouse we came to contained my crate, to my surprise it looked intact with no signs of damage. I was told not to touch the crate until the customs man had inspected it. An hour later i was allowed to open the crate in front of the customs man. He checked everything as i unpacked and made sure everything tallied with the carnet.
When i packed the bike in the crate in Darwin, i made sure that it would be easy to get it back up and running. Twenty minutes later i was ready to roll. However, i was then told to hurry up and wait while the customs man went back to his office on the other side of town so he could stamp my papers, the only trouble now was that it was lunch time.
The warehouse boys started to gather round the bike while i waited for the customs man. A group of about 10 were first on the scene. Each one of them felt it was their duty to check that the throttle cable still worked. There were also 3 main questions, how much? Where you from? How many km to the litre. 1 lakh, England, 20 to the litre being the answers.
The 10 guys disappeared to be replaced by another 10 guys. Same check of the throttle cable, same questions. The 10 guys disappeared to be replaced by the first 10 guys who by now had finished their lunch. 1 lakh, England, 20 to the litre. They then disappeared to be rep......., it just went on and on.
Finally, as if by magic, the clearing agent appeared with his 2 sidekicks. I was then told i had to pay a storage charge, what about that then? I was now ready to leave the port. The 2 sidekicks then asked me to follow them to the gates, explaining to me that they were both expecting a 'gift'. Eventually i got the bike outside the gates. 'Can we please have our gift'? 'No mate' i said, 'You have been paid by your boss and i have to put a stop to people helping themselves to my money'.
I got down the road and realised that i didn't know the way to the insurance company's office. I had to be there before 15.30 so that i could take out the 'local insurance'. I asked a tuk tuk driver if he could lead the way and i would follow him. He wouldn't do it but insisted that i give him a 'gift' for talking to him. His mate agreed and off we went to the insurance office. I got there about 15.20, just in time. I then had to push the bike about a mile against the traffic to the insurance mans office. I had my full riding gear on and i was sweating like a kipper when i got there.
The bike was like a magnet. Ten guys instantly gathered, checking my throttle again, 1 lakh, England, 20 to the litre. To cut a very long story short, i got 3rd party insurance for 1 year for 10 quid, what about that then? I managed to find my way back to the hotel car park. The security man said, 'Can't park that theer kid' or words to that effect. The hotel manager was called, who was a decent friend of mine, and in the bike went, much to the dislike of the security man.
The time was now about 18.00. I got into the hotel room and stripped off. The sweat was pouring down my arms and legs and i was very dehydrated and hungry. Two litres of water, a chicken masala and a shower later i was sorted. I had managed to get everything sorted so i planned to leave the next morning. The middle of the night brought a tremendous storm, the lightening cracks were by far the loudest i had ever heard. I could only hope that the bike would be ok in the morning.
f*ckin amazing...i can just imagine you in all those situations.
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