The Soft Launch

Now that the sigh of relief was taken and the war zone was mostly tidied up (I say mostly, because of how many remnants of our renovations’ endeavor had spread around the trailer and my in-laws’ pole barn in the few months we’d been parked there), it was time for the bus to go on her maiden voyage. We’re calling it the soft launch as there are many unexciting things to finalize before being able to hit the road indefinitely. Between the changing of address to every single government identification given out, the cleaning of our space after giving our notice to the apartment complex and putting any unnecessary thing and piece of furniture in storage, we had our work cut out for us. The good news was that we could finally envision the Bus transporting us to new and exciting destinations.

Speaking of putting things in storage: As someone who considers herself mildly minimalistic, it’s impressive how many possessions can be accumulated in the short year of living together in our 1-bedroom apartment. Nevertheless, a small 10 x 10 storage unit was rented in order to put away anything that wouldn’t fit in the Bus. Mastering the art of Tetris with one’s things can seem tricky, but it definitely becomes a source of satisfaction when we slid down the unit’s rusty red door and locked it for the final time. However, I must say this out loud: People who move once a year, we are not the same.

Regardless of how big a camper’s space seems at first, most of your ordinary possessions won’t fit comfortably, in my opinion. Decisions were made. Clothes were put in boxes. Others were snuck into a plastic bin that could be placed under our camper’s bed and used for those “just in case I need to look cute” moments that most likely will never happen because I happen to live in the same monochromatic uniform of all black clothing. 

But I digress. Here we were planning our adventure’s soft launch that was going to take place in our home state of Minnesota. The biggest reason was to test our satellite internet system in order to support Chris’ work station. As much as the idea of running off to a faraway destination right away seemed appealing, it was imperative to make sure the technology would support his needs without causing interruptions in the workday. Unromantic reason, I know, but nevertheless necessary. The second reason being it was time to permanently import my motorcycle into the U.S after having her on a visitor visa while awaiting my own permanent resident status. While doing research and contacting various forms of government and brokerage agencies, it became apparent that this was another process that required quite the paperwork to be filled out… In person. At a land border. So this is how we chose our first destination: Baudette, Minnesota. Let’s also be real, I think we both secretly wanted to see if our renovations would hold up while the Bus moved and our new home on wheels wouldn’t spontaneously combust the second we left the driveway. Neither of us said this out loud, but I’m willing to bet that this was the main concern.

So on a damp and misty morning we hitched the Bus to the truck, loaded up our two motorcycles, double and triple checked all the attachments, locked the doors and we were ready to go. Then doubt crept in. Was everything tied properly? Were all objects in the Bus placed away in a way that everything wouldn’t fall everywhere? Were the walls going to vibrate off? We should have gotten cameras to keep an eye on everything! “Okay, how about this:” Chris said, “How about you sit inside while I drive us down the gravel road to see how it all looks?” So there I sat, on the newly built wooden staircase, waiting to see if the ship would go down, keeping my fingers crossed that I could make my great escape should anything go wrong. 

Observation number 1: IT WAS SO LOUD! There went my idea of taking a rest day in the bedroom while traveling from one destination to another. Observation number 2: Nothing crashed and burned. Oh goodie! As I felt us slow down and waited for Chris to unlock the door to let me out, we both breathed a sigh of relief – for now. Our first campground destination was Lake of the Woods, about 4 hours drive. Every sound the trailer made was a source of anxiety for the both of us. “What are all these noises?” we kept asking ourselves. Every pothole we hit, Chris would lose a little bit more color in his face thinking the hitch would rip out from the truck bed, since he was the one who’d installed it. Every sharp corner that needed to be taken I felt us both holding our breathes wondering if we would inadvertently turn too wide and come face to face with an oncoming vehicle, or not wide enough and take out a wheel from hitting the sidewalk. Luckily, Chris must have been a truck driver in another life, because our trek North went without a hitch. 

There are many things one takes for granted in life: Adequately sized gas stations that can comfortably fit a 35-ft fifth-wheel, was one of them. Having grown up in a big city and driving a pint-sized Hyundai Accent, this is something that I never even thought of. You drive in, pick a station (any station), pay the exorbitant Canadian gas amount and go. This experience with the Bus was something else entirely. It became somewhat of a recon mission even before we would turn into the station. Where was the entrance? The exit? What was the most effective pump that would require little to no maneuvering around? Oh wait! What side do we put gas in the truck again?

After navigating through a scenic, rural highway which offers views of woods, farmland and many of the lakes Minnesota prides itself of, we pulled into the Lake of the Woods Campground. It took us a little while to set up as we tried to recollect all the steps necessary to get the Bus leveled and stable on our grassy pad that we would call home for the next 3 days. ROOKIE MISTAKE: On trip one we’d already lost the T-bolt of the rear stabilizing arms underneath the trailer by forgetting to twist it tight in the pre-launch packing stress. My bad! 

As we planned our stop to the Canadian border to take care of my motorcycle’s importation papers, we also wanted to take some time and explore the area. Cue the planning of visiting the Northwest Angle: The only part of the contiguous United States located north of the 49th parallel, with its land separated from the rest of Minnesota by Lake of the Woods. 

There are two border crossings to arrive to the Northwest Angle: The first crossed into Manitoba, where you go through the usual questioning by border patrol agents. They gave us a few instructions on how to make our way to the second border crossing back into Minnesota which was out of the ordinary compared to any other traveling experience I’d ever had. “You sign into a payphone booth station that is located on Jim’s corner”, we were told by the border agent. “Who’s Jim?” I wanted to ask, but refrained. The agent also laughingly mentioned the difference in budget between the Canadian and U.S stations. And here we now were, in the middle of a dirt road in Manitoba, stopped at a random 4-way identified as Jim’s corner. To sign into the U.S, we made our way into the air conditioned booth, where a singular iPad stood. We entered our information and received a confirmation number. We also quickly saw the old school rotary phone outside the booth, and noted that this was the Canadian border system – Wow! With the large deer fly swarming us as soon as we were off our motorcycles, we knew that part of the trip would be a little less pleasant. But, hey, what a unique way to sign yourself back into the country.

The description of the Northwest Angle mentioned remote. By no means was anything remotely remote once we arrived. Cars, campers and boat trailers filled the parking lots to the brim. Boats floated in and out of the marina galore. There was even a restaurant: Jerry’s Restaurant & Lounge. The little fried corn dog appetizers were absolutely scrumptious and the beer went down oh-so-smoothly after having ridden in the sun for a few hours on a long dusty dirt road.

How to unsuccessfully import your motorcycle

For those of you who are wondering how simple the process is to import a motorcycle into the U.S from Canada: In theory it is, but then life never really happens as it should. HOT TIP: Every website will tell you to go through a broker agency. Don’t. Most of them don’t take personal vehicles in the first place and those who do charge. A lot. Also, when you think you’ve gotten answers to all your questions, ask some more questions. I learned this the hard way even after having called multiple agencies, broker companies, dealership, etc.

Coming back into the States after our afternoon visit to the Northwest Angle, we arrived at the border. Confidently, I mention that I was permanently importing my motorcycle. “No problem.” the customs agent replies, “Park the bike out back and come inside with all your supporting documents.” A few minutes go by and I am greeted by another customs agent at the front desk who gathers all my documents, quickly looks them over, nods and says: “Great, let’s go outside and make sure the stickers and VIN match up and you’ll be good to go.” Perfect! Things are going smoothly so far. 

And then. It all goes wrong. Standing beside my motorcycle in a deserted parking lot, looking down at the customs agent who is crouched underneath it I hear: “Do you have your letter?” he asks. “Eh, what letter are we talking about?” I respond. It turns out that one of the three stickers was identified for Canadian emissions, but not the U.S. I needed a compliance letter from the manufacturer to prove that my Canadian-bought motorcycle was DOT compliant with U.S regulations. Funny enough, the EPA sticker was compliant with U.S and California emission standards, but that isn’t enough. On a side note, my motorcycle was sold to a Canadian dealership by the Milwaukee-based North American headquarters of the Indian motorcycle brand. The irony is not lost on me. 

And so we sat on the side of the parking lot, somewhat deflated trying to find a phone number to someone who could help me get this magical missing letter in order to import my motorcycle. We eventually gave up and headed back to the campground site. It will take around 2 weeks of calling and emailing the customer service center to speak to the correct person and finally receive the compliance letter. Better luck on the next attempt.