Tyres and tribulations

The tale of an informal import

TYRES AND TRIBULATIONS

_{By John Carlyon – on returning from a working trip to England.}

I returned, armed to the teeth, with hopefully all the necessary engine spares for our 1936 Rolls Royce 25/30, as well as two Firestone tyres for her (6.50×19″); weighing 23kg together! Funnily enough a few people suggested the old tyres-around-waist-under-a-large-poncho method of getting onto the flight… until they saw them!

Actually, getting the tyres to Heathrow and onto the flight proved to be quite an interesting exercise: After a hectic morning, finalising my veterinary cases and finishing off my packing, I was dropped off at Adisham, a small local country station. On trying to board the train I soon discovered that you can’t enter or leave a train – through a normal door – with an overweight suitcase in one hand, and a pair of oversize tyres under the other arm, while also wearing a solidly packed backpack. Something has to be left behind or first deposited inside the coach. And hope the train doesn’t take off in the meantime.

The conductor came around and sold me a ticket that included the fare for the underground all the way to Heathrow, which I thought was a good thing, as it should save valuable minutes spent buying a tube ticket in London.

I had a very tight schedule to get to the airport for my flight at 19:30. Getting to Victoria was easy enough and I arrived there still on schedule. So, all I had to do now was contend with the seething masses in peak rush-hour and, without wasting any time, get down into the underground station and onto the District Line tube. By the time I got through the dense crowds of commuters, down the stairs and on to the platform, I was sweating and puffing. London was hot and muggy. It was then that the wheels started falling off… the ticket didn’t go into the automatic gate opening mechanism! So I had to look for an official to let me through, or so I thought.

Eventually when I found someone, he politely informed me that I had to go back up to Victoria Railway Station and change my ticket for an underground one! I couldn’t believe my bad luck but set off in the direction I had come from cursing the conductor who had sold me the ticket for not telling me this. I got up to the railway station at 10 to 5 and joined the long, excruciatingly slow queue for ticket sales….

So eventually I got back to the automatic gates armed with a valid tube ticket. I even made sure it was a return (back into London) as by now I was sure I was going to miss my flight. It was going to be at least an hour on the tube to Heathrow.

I now discovered that the tyres were too tall to fit through the “baggage” slot, it could only cope with just the suitcase. So I had to sort of dash through the gates with tyres in front and backpack behind, hoping not to be cut off halfway through.

The tube up to Hammersmith, where one changes onto the Piccadilly line, was painfully slow; stopping for ages on one occasion. As there was no service to Rayner’s Lane, passengers had to use the Heathrow tube instead, so it was doubly packed. It was seven minutes in coming and I was not going to miss it for anything.

Eventually everyone was on except me but, within the wide doors where I was hoping to step in, was just a solid wall of bodies. I moved to the narrow door nearby and reckoned I could just about get in there… There were a few stifled groans as my baggage sort-of forged a path into the packed compartment, followed by me, apologising profusely. Hunched over to allow the tube doors to close behind me, I had to remain immobile for a few stations until sufficient people had disembarked to allow me to move a bit.

It was now after 6pm and Heathrow was still about eight stations away. Check- in would close an hour before the flight departed, at 7.30pm. Luckily the lines seemed to open up a bit and the driver sped up to a cracking pace, so there was just a chance I was going to make it. But I still had to have my ticket changed, check in, get the tyres to VAT reclaim, and back to check in. Finally, at Terminal One, it was a mad dash along the corridors and travelators with a trolley loaded with the 65-odd kg of luggage, up the ramps and into the lift, and then right across to the far end of the upper level. I was now sweating profusely and waited for ages while they changed the dates on my ticket.

At check in, nearby, I heard them giving a lady a very hard time about her excess baggage which it seems she had no money to pay for. This did not bode well. I needed to debulk the hand baggage as it also looked too big (you’re only allowed 7kg and I had double that), which meant putting on my fleece – to add to my discomfort. So, with some trepidation, I put my bag on the scales and explained that the tyres were going to VAT reclaim. The guy looked at them and said “they’re not very heavy are they?” with which I readily agreed…

Unfortunately he then thought better of it and said “well, put them on the scales anyway”… and as expected, he then told me I was over the weight limit. At this point I produced my letter from SAA Voyager which informed me that I was allowed 30kg extra baggage allowance – which he read with amazement, and reluctantly said “OK then”…..In fact I had already made enquiries to confirm what was on the letter and it seems that this was no longer applicable, in London at any rate! But I wasn’t letting on that I knew.

I was on the flight, tyres and all. As it was time for check-in to close, an airport official even escorted me to VAT reclaim, bypassing all the queues, and brought the tyres back to check in for me!

At SA customs there was no one around – at the precise moment I walked through – so I had no trouble there either!

After another recent trip to the UK, tyre number 3 has arrived with considerably less trouble than the first two. The lady behind the check-in counter at Heathrow exclaimed “Now I have seen it all”!

But there is still tyre number 4…….!

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