If you think flying with kids is tough…
My Merlin titanium road bike and I have been together for over 20 years. The current frame was replaced in 2003 but it has served me faithfully since then. Thus, when time came to relocate to Valencia in 2021, I had to thin the herd. I gave away my cyclocross bike and the “fixie” that I used to commute to work. Two of the remaining bikes I shipped with me.
So, the Merlin stayed in the garage of a relative in Texas. But bicycles are made to be ridden. In September 2025, it made its way back to Spain with me. First I had it boxed up professionally. Then I added some must-have bike tools. Finally, I made sure the total weight was under 23 kg. That was the easy part.
I spoke with the airline’s customer service representatives on the phone. They informed me that I needed to get to the airport six hours early for my return flight to Valencia. Plus the bike was not categorized as “sports equipment.” I looked to see what was included in that definition: skis, fishing poles, golf clubs, but not bicycles? Anyway, I dutifully arrived early, walked up to the service counter and handed over the bike box. After weighing it to confirm it met that requirement, the airline staff member handed me the receipt. No charge. Yay! And that was the last free flight the bike was given.
Major change in plans
A family emergency changed my plans while I was in the airport. I frantically reclaimed the bike and headed to my new destination in Canada. There was a $35 (USD) charge to put it in the cargo hold. Most of the damage to the bike box happened during the 42-minute flight from Austin to Dallas. This added insult to injury. I could see the crushed end of the box from the DFW gate area as I waited to board my next flight. I’m not going to name the airlines. On subsequent flights with the bike, the box didn’t get beat up as it did on that first trip.
“You know,” he says, “You can use the free carts, eh?”
Fortunately, the bike and I arrived intact Both only slightly the worse for wear. I lift the bike box and clumsily walk toward the Canadian customs officer. He regards me quizzically. “You know,” he says, “You can use the free carts, eh?” Yes, he really added the “eh” while affirming the “Canada Nice” sobriquet. What a country. Since oversized baggage has its own pick-up point,I hadn’t seen the carts. They were on the other side of the regular baggage belts’ area. I gratefully retrieved a cart, placed the box and my backpack on it, and headed out of the terminal.
Canada wasn’t my final destination and I toted the bike box among several locations. Then, I transported it to my hotel room for my final night in Canada. People ask if I rode while in the prospective 51st state. No, the bike wasn’t rideable since I had taken some parts off of it when I moved to Valencia. Also, while I was in Canada, the wildfire smoke made the air unhealthy. Most of my time there was spent indoors.
On my way out of the country, I repeated the same protocol. Get to the airport early. So early, in fact, there were no counters open. Some international carriers usually only have one or two departures a day to Europe and they are in the afternoon. Fortunately, when they opened for the day, someone took pity on me and allowed me to check in first. After a $135 (CAD) charge, the bike was finally on its way home.
The last 20 kilometers are always the most difficult
I had placed an AirTag on the bike as a precaution. Because of this, I knew it had made all connecting flights with me. Still, I waited with some trepidation at the VLC airport until the box finally appeared on the conveyor belt. Interestingly, there didn’t appear to be any additional damage to the box since that first U.S. flight. We couldn’t use a taxi cab since none had space for us and the box. My wife and I then muscled the box onboard the Metro and headed back to the apartment.
At our stop, we navigated elevators and stairs to the street. My wife and I presented quite the sight as we carried this large box down the street – together and by turns. It wasn’t terribly heavy, just unwieldy. We asked a nearby fruit seller for help. My wife was familiar with him since she shopped in his store. He graciously allowed us to borrow his handcart. Then we rolled the bike two more blocks and into our building’s elevator.
The next day, I built the bike up. Surprisingly, the inner tubes and tires were in good shape. I replaced the tires anyway, cleaned and lubed the gears, chain, and cables, adjusted the handlebars, inserted the seat post, and installed the cranks. All that remains is a test ride for tweaking and my Merlin will be back on the streets again.
It’s been a long, strange trip, but the band is back together.
Post script:
So some might be asking “Why didn’t you just ship the bike?” OK, I learned from experience on that one. First, if the item is making a one-way trip, it could be exposed to custom duties and other fees. And that was before all this unpleasantness with tariffs. Next thought, “But it’s personal property; it shouldn’t be subject to import charges.” Yeah, but. The Merlin I brought back to Spain with me was actually a warranty replacement frame. I broke the original while in Italy and when I shipped it back to the U.S., an obviously used and broken bike was charged almost $200 USD in custom duties. The two bikes I shipped to Spain spent six weeks in a warehouse while they cleared customs. So, in spite of the hassles, it was still better to chaperone my bike back to Spain personally.
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