Rick Biddulph completes his survey of the perils of a musician's life on the road, with a look at insurance and touring 'sur le continong'...

The story so far: you've got the band that's set for world domination, you've got the gigs lined up, even record company interest in being on the guest list, your van is loaded and raring to go. Now for the hard bit. As hinted in the last issue, legalising your vehicle (albeit a Fiat 500 for your violin!) presents a problem. The rule-books of all areas of authority and administration are never quite sure where to pigeonhole members of the entertainments profession, and insurance companies are no exception.

The appearance of the title 'musician' on a proposal form at your High Street broker's office could be met with refusal, or a laughable excess in premium. It's hard to find out why - whether the risk is thought to be greater due to the extent of travel involved, or the replacement cost of equipment carried, or whether you're simply seen as a dangerous animal of some sort - but their rules stand firm, and their list of those ineligible for normal treatment can run from jugglers to strippers, including (at the bottom of a form I saw) members of the Royal Canadian Air Force - wild Styx fans, of course!

The obvious scam that springs to mind, particularly for a semi-pro, is to declare another profession, like hamster farmer (or even your real one), and obtain insurance for carrying goods and materials connected with your work - fine, until you need to make a claim, when it may be noted that you're carrying musical equipment and the insurance company has every right to laugh at it!

If hiring out your own van to other groups or for removal jobs to help cover its costs, attention should be paid to the hire and reward clause on your policy. Unless you've made special arrangements, such use for any profit (even for receipt of petrol contributions from passengers) will technically invalidate most policies, and the police can be keen on checking this when they pull you over in the early hours. You'll only be fully insured with full disclosure to a broker experienced in this field. One such, the champion for thirty years in fighting for a fair deal with the companies, is Victor C. Knight, whose company has long been closely associated with the Musicians' Union and its Benefit Scheme (mainly concerned with insuring members' instruments, with the first £400-worth covered under the scheme). The company now has the official title of 'M.U. Insurance Advisory Service', and resides at (Contact Details). With the experience and rapport Knight has built up, he can arrange insurance at an ordinary rate for union members' cars and sort out the best deals for particular circumstances, such as green cards for Continental tours. Within the EEC these should no longer exist, but, due to the complications of international claims, it's best to be covered even if the card may never need to be shown.

Another such anachronism which can ruin your life on tour abroad is the dreaded 'A.T.A. Carnet' (not 'A.A.' as misprinted in our last issue - whoops, sorry!), namely an import/export document, apparently existing 'for your own good', to ensure and prove that you reimport to your country of origin exactly what you've exported, without enacting a few sly trading deals on the way. This document, valid for a year, is obtained on application from the London Chamber of Commerce, (Contact Details), and consists of sheaves of different-hued forms covering exportation, importation, transit and re-importation, the number of these depending on how many countries you declare that you may visit in the year. Importation, in this case, will mean to any country in which you're working rather than just passing through because it happens to be in the way. To attach to these forms you also require photocopied lists of every item you could possibly be taking, down to the lowliest leads and their battered suitcases, plus all values, countries of manufacture, and relevant serial numbers.

Exceptions can be listed when you leave unrequired gear behind, but of course these must tally at the beginning and end of the trip. The Chamber sends a booklet with your application which purports to describe in minute detail how the form must be prepared, and extreme brain-fade and delay can arise from any failure to follow the rules exactly. It can be quite a race between your Carnet's state of readiness and your ferry's sailing time. Subsequent failure to keep the Carnet perfectly correct throughout its year's validity, at the end of which it must be returned to the Chamber, whether through mistakes in procedure (you have to know it better than the bored or belligerent customs man), or through discrepancies in the equipment listing, can theoretically result in forfeiture of the value of the goods for three years! For this reason, it's vital to have the amount underwritten by an insurance company or bank - this obviously costs, but it has to be worth it against this disastrous possibility.

Anyone in the party can be named on the Carnet to deal with it at each border and, as the registration number of the vehicle involved must be noted, if you're hiring this must be organised well in advance. Having to sort all this out as the departure date looms can be a pain in the jack-socket if you're also trying to write and rehearse the set and gaffa-tape the equipment back together, and can't afford or spare anyone to take care of it all. And it doesn't stop there. Some borders can be passed through smoothly and efficiently, others can be notoriously tedious depending on the volume of freight traffic, or the whims of the customs officer on duty, or the timing of your arrival just as the man in charge has gone off for his lunch and siesta. You may often be faced with the supreme human psychological weapon, the indifferent stare coupled with total incomprehension even when you speak the relevant language passably, and the pretence of never having seen an A.T.A. Carnet before. If it's a slow day they can and may demand to see any or every item on the list, with an uncanny knack of choosing something at the front or bottom of the load. Albums by the group may be 'requested' before a hand raises the vital stamp, and, disgracefully, it has been known for money to have to change hands.

All in all, you have to be on your toes at every stage. I once failed to spot the error of an officer at Harwich in not putting an inaugural stamp on the front of a virgin Carnet; eight hours later this was spotted by Dutch customs and declared invalid. Leaving the truck in international limbo in the customs area, I had to get straight back on the boat, spend one minute getting the fault rectified, and weave onto the boat again for another stint of sea air and heaving holidaymakers! On this occasion there was a day in hand to lose; without it, there would have been a blown gig and possibly the petrol money to get to the next one, all for one splat of the stamp! Allowing that some control on the passage of goods is necessary, it's a pity that an alternative category doesn't exist for touring bands. For straightforward import and export, the 'T.I.R.' system was evolved whereby the loads are sealed before departure with a customs tag, which should be intact on arrival at their destinations. The drivers still needing to on-and off-load the cargo for their professional use every night, so we're still lumbered with a waste of everyone's time and tons of paper.

One small advantage, however, is that it can keep the customs officers' minds off further fun: i.e., 'the search'. Not always, though; and it's worth admiring sometimes their powers of detection and memory for names and faces, and expecting their heightened interest in bands in connection with proscribed substances and general lawlessness. Once any suspicions are aroused or attitude tests failed - or again, if it's a slow day - you may be stuck for hours, and there's nothing you can do, however humiliating the event might become, except try to stay calm and affable, let them get on with what they're paid for, and hope they don't find it if you've got it!

There's always the chance of a search at any border - but some, such as Finland's, you can virtually guarantee. At least the Finns are efficient about it, with sniffer dogs at hand, which is more than can be said for their budgeted English counterparts on occasion. I have fond memories of one five-hour welcoming fiasco at Dover, after two months away, when the dog was off in Maidstone and we literally had to lend them a screwdriver and lead the search ourselves, with the Pythons' Spanish Inquisition sketch loud on the stereo! Any vehicle found bringing in anything illegal is subject to forfeiture, and you'd be lucky to get recompense for any damage to vehicle or equipment, even if clean. Let common-sense prevail!

Another intrusion of authority, however justifiable, is the introduction and gradual enforcement of the tachograph, a device fitted in place of the standard speedometer on all minibuses with 9 seats or over, and on goods vehicles above the 35cwt Lutons. This cunning gadget prints onto a 5", 24-hour paper disc every event of the journey; time and speeds travelled, meal and repair stops, and sleep time. By law, a driver is limited to 8 hours at the wheel in a 24-hour period and a further 8 hours as a passenger, the remainder to be spent off the road. Again, whilst allowing the need for safety legislation against heavy-lidded thoughtlessness (most motoring laws being common-sense and worth observing), this can be a tricky one with hectic tour and finally-costed itineraries. The use of the tacho isn't yet in force, but beware particularly in France, where they are fond of routine truck ambushes. 'On the spot" speeding fines are common throughout Europe, and it's hard to bluff your way out with the evidence printed neatly behind the dashboard!

Beyond carrying a reasonable toolkit and a few obvious spares, and hoping that someone in the team is fairly adept in the diagnosis of malfunctions, it's impossible to predict what mechanical problems might arise. Most vehicles prefer long cruises to shopping trips once they've found their stride, but you get used to the unexpected. If you blow out one tyre (not recommended at speed) you can almost guarantee to lose another in a day or so - troubles coming in threes, etc.

Within Europe, you can meet all manner of road conditions from the flat motorways of Holland and Germany to rough and demanding roads in Spain - all manner of driving habits to be wary of, and extremes of weather and temperature that the British aren't used to. We think we know rain, but I've seen Autobahns in Southern Germany brought to a halt in seconds by rain so solid you can't see ten yards. In Scandinavia, the roads are coated with an inch or so of ice for most of the six-month Winter, but everyone gets about as normal on their snow tyres, and a loaded truck grips fine once you get the hang of it, as long as no one slithers in your way. The temperatures of 25°C below present you with new experiences: despite normal anti-freeze precautions, I had a Mercedes radiator freeze solid during the first gig 40 kilometres short of the Arctic Circle! Locals - in shirt-sleeves! - helped me thaw it with newspaper and brief runs of the engine, with no damage done; I fond that the correct proportion of anti-freeze to water for the conditions was 6:1. It was also necessary to add a litre of alcohol per tankful of petrol, and I was advised to ensure that the tank was fairly full overnight to help starting up in the morning - it seemed to work, and to be a useful tip for damp English Winters!

Three days after Finland we were in in Spain with English Summer temperatues and overheating a more likely problem. So it goes...

There are times when the problems of keeping the show on the road seem insurmountable, an endless Zen initiative test; and it's harder as economic forces grow more imbalanced. But the necessity and love of touring and playing live continues and the lure of the open road, however corny it's become in a thousand awful songs, can be thoroughly addictive once you're had a taste. There's a rhythm to the long drive which I find very contemplative, never boring, when the actual functions of driving become fluid and automatic, governed by some alert section of brain. It's not too unlike playing through a song or a piece, getting the pace and all the changes just right and hopefully making it from start to finish without mishap (what a tidy simile), when all that matters in the world is steaming into the gig, setting up, and doing what dragged you out here to Hicksville, in the middle of nowhere in the first place.