A Life in Waiting

Well with a full battery charge, I feel comfortable enough to do a bit of writing on the plane.  The last time I tried this, I ended up in Munich with no battery left on my laptop and all my important information inaccessible on the hard drive.  Vowing to not do this again, I have typically refrained from using my computer during my many flights since that day.  However I feel comfortable enough with my knowledge of Madrid and the location of the hostel I’m planning on using this evening that I can spare a bit of battery life.

Forgoing my worrying over my motorcycle’s current condition/location, I am feeling quite good at the moment.  Not sure if it’s the excitement of continuing my adventure or the fact that I have gotten quite comfortable in traveling in this style and have a lot of confidence in what I am doing.  I’m not so much flinging myself into the unknown as I felt like I had done so when this whole thing began.  Not to say this has become routine, but that I have become very aware of my surroundings and my confidence is growing daily.

However the bike is still occupying most of my mind.  Let me give a bit of the back story here.  When I left my bike in Munich, I had contacted the local BMW dealership and repair facility and requested that I store my bike at their facility.  It apparently was a common request that they fulfilled willingly, for a fee.  So I got it into my head that ALL BMW dealers offer this service.  So four hours before my flight left Madrid for Helsinki, I headed off towards the Madrid BMW dealership.  After getting quite lost and frustrated, I finally arrived at the dealership only to find out that the repair facility was at a different location.  Not far, but on the other side of the major motorway that had given me so much trouble getting to this first destination. 

So I head back onto the road, get sufficiently lost again and finally locate the service center by driving down at least one sidewalk and heading down a few one way streets in the wrong direction out of sheer frustration (sorry mom).  Entering the BMW service department, I get what I think is a strong of good luck.  It appears that the service manager only speaks Spanish and I cannot get my point across as to what I need.  Turns out that there was a local man from Madrid, that had lived in the states for many years was in the room with us.  He overheard my struggles and offered to help.  I thought I was home free.  As luck would have it (and if you know me by now, my luck is only bad) this center doesn’t offer storage and will not give on the policy.  So the gentleman helping out suggested that I submit the bike for some service and be a bit late in acquiring it when the work was completed.  Seemed reasonable. 

So we spend most of my remaining moments before I needed to head to the airport filling out the service request forms and booking the bike in.  The manager states that the work can be scheduled for the following Thursday, and said that was fine and I was not in a hurry.  Once everything was completed, I requested that they call me a cab to take me to the airport and the manager refused!  Confused as to why, we inquired as to why they would not and he politely replied that they refuse to hold the bike until Thursday, but I can return Thursday morning with it.  And if I refused, they would charge me 50€/day storage fee.  Trying not to blow my top, I try to finagle a different result.  After too many futile attempts, I abruptly leave and thank the gentleman that had helped in the translation.  As I do not want to miss my flight, I do the one thing I can think of. 

Yep, long term parking.  My only hope here was that the fees for the long term lot in Spain were not as offensive as in NY.  Yup, you guessed it, I was dead wrong.  How does 350€ per month sound?!?  After I recuperate from the shock of the price given to me by the parking attendant, I ask the woman gently if she knew of any other option since the six or so weeks planned in Helsinki would cost me over 500€.  She then explained to me that at the airport near one of the arrival passenger pick-up points, there is an unofficial motorcycle parking area.  I thank the woman and with desperation setting in, I head to the terminal arrivals. 

I reach the area mentioned by the woman and do a slow drive by.  Just as she mentioned, there was a sidewalk area opposite the terminal that was under an overhead walkway that joined the terminal with the parking area.  On the sidewalk area behind a steel railing, a dozen or so motorcycles were parked.  With a small sigh of relief I drive a full circle and pulled into the section with the other bikes.  Now normally, I would not think to park a bike illegally at an airport.  But throughout Madrid and the rest of Spain, I and every other motorcyclist freely park on the sidewalks without any repercussions.  I remove all valuables, lock up the bike and hoped I would see it again.

After I arrived in Helsinki, I started freaking out about it being there.  So I found out a friend who was in La Alberca with me was going through the airport.  So I emailed him and asked if he could check on the bike for me.  He sent me back a message a few days later saying I have nothing to worry about.  That was four weeks ago. 

Ok getting ready to land.  I feel like I’m going to throw up…

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