Do you know how to ask for help? part 2.
After another day of riding, which was quite calm, I entered Montenegro, another country I had never been to before. I was constantly traveling mountain roads, which filled me with great humility in relation to the power of nature surrounding me. I headed south through the country, aiming to explore the areas around Lake Shkoder and later reach the Adriatic Sea coast once again. The further south I traveled, the warmer it became, so I knew I was looking for a wild camping spot by the lake’s edge. This time, my inattention and the late hour got me into trouble.
Upon reaching the lake area, I began exploring the surroundings to find a spot by the shore where I could set up my hammock. After several unsuccessful attempts, I found myself on a promising small gravel road that, according to the map, led to the shore. I rode on it for a while, but the surface began to deteriorate, so I decided to turn around at the next bend, where I thought I would have more space for the maneuver. To my surprise, there was a steep descent around the corner, leaving me with no option but to ride forward. It became very unpleasant – I was losing traction constantly because the descent was covered in small stones, and any attempt to brake would cause the front wheel to slide. The descent was about 100 meters long, and its end was washed out by water, leaving only large stones.
It was terrifying because I couldn’t stop, and riding on could lead to a fall, which could end badly in such a place. It was my recent bravado that had gotten me to this point, but only my skills saved me from falling, and I finally managed to conquer the descent, stopping on a flat stretch of this wilderness in the middle of the night.
I had no idea what to do next. Continuing down this road was not an option, as it had practically ceased to exist, and there were no trees where I could hang my hammock and wait until morning. The only option to get out of this situation was to tackle the road again uphill.
The weather was on my side, as the warm, starry night made approaching the task of riding up a road that barely resembled anything suitable, especially for a motorcycle, much easier. I had no choice but to test myself in yet another unconventional situation that I had created. A lot of these tests. The first few meters of climbing this makeshift road yielded no results – the motorcycle kept sliding and skidding on the small gravel and potholes. I had absolutely no traction, and even if I managed to cover a few meters by some miracle, I slid backward, even while holding the brake. From the side, it must have looked comical, as I had my legs stretched out like skis to keep my balance, and my struggles resembled a fight with a mechanical bull that was determined not to stay upright. A few more attempts allowed me to climb about 5 meters higher, but unfortunately, I lost my balance enough to fall over with the motorcycle. As soon as I managed to get out from under it, I had to lift the over 240 kilograms while standing on gravel and a steep incline. In a fit of fierce anger, I managed to do this surprisingly efficiently, and to my relief, apart from some scratched plastic, nothing else was damaged.
The next two hours were a slow climb and multiple starts and stops of the engine. After each segment, I left the motorcycle in gear to prevent it from sliding down and placed stones behind the rear wheel to stop it from sliding further down. By this method, I managed to conquer almost half of the climb, and the worst part was behind me. I slowly reached a point where I knew that if I started the engine now, I could drive out of there under my own power. My battery had a different plan, and after numerous starts, it no longer had the strength to start again. I was stuck with no further possibility of climbing. The situation was not easy, but generally, I felt quite good, and the efforts of the last few hours brought me a lot of joy and laughter. What else could I do but take it all with a sense of humor?
I already knew that I wouldn't cover even a meter more that night. I sat on a rock, with a cloudless, starry sky above me, and in the distance, the calm surface of Lake Shkoder made me feel that it would be hard to find a better place to be stuck alone in an unknown location.
It was completely dark; the only light came from my headlamp. Fortunately, I had a small amount of drinking water and a packet of nuts, so I was safe until morning. I came up with the idea to activate the SIM card I had bought back in Serbia, and surprisingly, I managed to get internet access, so I could check where I had ended up this time. I had gotten stuck on an old road leading to an abandoned fishing village by the lake, so I could be sure no one would be taking their dog for a walk here in the morning. The exhaustion from a full day of riding and the last few hours of struggle was heavily felt. Unfortunately, I had no place to set up my hammock, so I made a makeshift bed out of some stones, the rear seat of the motorcycle, my backpack, and a sweatshirt as a pillow for my head.
In such conditions, with my loyal adventure companion beside me, I lay there until 6 am., when the incredible beauty of the surrounding nature revealed itself. The sun was rising above the distant mountains, reflecting off the blue lake and giving me a morning boost of energy and confidence that I could handle everything. It’s hard to say whether I was well-rested or not, but I had no choice but to get up and ask for help. I left my modest luggage by the motorcycle and set out to find a solution to my predicament. After about 40 minutes of walking, I reached the first buildings; the town, or rather village, seemed almost abandoned.
After a moment, I noticed signs of life in one of the houses, and soon an elderly man appeared, opening the door. It was early morning, so I was probably the first person he saw that day, and certainly the only one seeking help for such an unusual problem. After a brief explanation using gestures, I showed him what I had done and where I had ended up, supplementing the explanation with photos from my phone. The elderly man, after a moment of confusion, shrugged his shoulders and, despite his sincere willingness, couldn’t help me as he didn’t have a car or even a battery, which were essential to start the machine. He explained that I might try seeking help at a place at the end of the village, located on the slope of a small hill. After another few minutes, I reached the spot. The view of the surrounding mountains, encircled by vineyards creating a perfect composition with the vast lake nearby, made the exhaustion worth it.
The place I arrived at was a restaurant and rental apartments run by a local family. I explained my situation to the girl working there, and she said her brother would be able to help me. As it turned out, I couldn't have asked for better. Luka, as her brother was named, turned out to be a young, clever guy, raised in these lands, who knew exactly where I had ended up. He was quite astonished at how far I had ventured into the night but was eager to help. We got into his van, picking up jumper cables, a battery, and set off to rescue my stranded machine. He knew the roads like few others, so we reached the vicinity of my overnight spot quite quickly. We took the rescue kit and walked the road that had defeated me the night before. The battery we brought turned out to be completely dead, so we removed his van’s battery and tried again. After a few minutes, the sound of the motorcycle starting filled the air. Just as I had anticipated at night, I was able to leave the spot without any further problems. My euphoria reached its peak; I was thrilled like a child that I had overcome this hurdle and was ready to continue my journey.
In Luka’s escort, I returned to the place where we first met, and to top it all off, I was treated to a wonderful breakfast. It was incredibly moving to see how far human kindness could go in helping me at every step of this adventure. After expressing my immense gratitude to my heroes, I started packing up and preparing for the next leg of the trip. The decision to press on without taking the time to properly rest in such a wonderful place only accelerated the chain of unfortunate events.
I set off, thrilled to be on the move again. During the night, I decided that since I was getting myself into these situations, it was time to head home. I had definitely had enough of adventures in recent weeks. For the next two hours, I left the mountainous areas, navigating winding roads. I felt a bit tired, but the views and the sunshine made up for all the discomforts. Montenegro had welcomed me with its beauty, but also with a harshness that I was unknowingly heading towards.
My exhaustion from such an exciting night and morning had definitely lowered my alertness.
I reached the coast, traveling along a regular asphalt road, intending to head north and eventually make my way home. Driving as legally as the cars ahead of me, someone suddenly stepped onto the pedestrian crossing around a bend. Two cars in front of me started to brake, forcing me to do the same. The asphalt was hot and cut with deep ruts. Suddenly, the maneuver turned into a nightmare. While braking, I hit oil under my wheels, which caused my front wheel to slide and the motorcycle to topple over, sliding me under the car in front of me. Everything happened incredibly fast—tipping over, coolant leaking onto the road, broken plastics around. I quickly got up, acting automatically. Two guys from the car behind me came out to help lift the motorcycle and get it off the road. It was bad—broken fairings, a headlight, and steam rising from the radiator made it clear that I wouldn’t be able to ride home in this condition.
I was disoriented; the flood of emotions made it hard to rationally assess the situation. The car I had collided with was an SUV, so it only had minor scratches on the fender. The people I hit didn’t want to write any reports and said we could leave it as it was, and they would just drive off, since the fault was mine. I insisted on documenting everything because I had bought travel insurance and wanted to seek assistance.
A while later, the police arrived, asking about the situation. They took my driver’s license to complete all the formalities. I realized soon after that this was a significant mistake. The officers recorded our statements and informed us that our documents would be held until the entire case was resolved and fault was determined, which would only happen the next day. I had dug myself in deeper than I thought. After completing the formalities, everyone went their separate ways, and traffic returned to normal.
In the next 30 minutes at the same spot, due to the slippery asphalt, there were two near-miss collisions at the same pedestrian crossing. After calling the insurance company, which cost me a fortune since I wasn’t in the roaming zone, I found out that they couldn’t help me. They informed me that their policy only covers vehicles from 2010 onward (my motorcycle is from 2005), which I wasn’t informed about when I purchased the policy. When I asked if they could at least arrange transport home, they replied that since I was unharmed, no assistance was available to me. They could only help if I ended up in the hospital with serious injuries. I felt deceived because this policy was my mental guarantee in case something went wrong. I was wrong.
I was left alone on the roadside, with a wrecked motorcycle, not knowing what to do next in this unusual situation.
Help came from my beloved. After speaking with her and assuring her that I was unharmed, she found me a place to stay near the accident site. I gathered my things, pushed the bike out of the way so it wouldn't be an obstruction, and headed towards my hotel. It was quite close; after a 10-minute walk, I was already recounting my adventure to the owner of the place where I would stay until I figured things out. The lovely woman welcomed me warmly and mentioned that she knew a mechanic and would ask if he could help me. I was too exhausted to think about it further, so after taking a shower, I collapsed onto the bed, allowing my body and mind some well-deserved rest.
After a few hours of sleep, I woke up feeling refreshed and full of new energy. I was still disoriented by the whole situation, but I had no choice but to take up the challenge again and start asking for help. I went to check on my damaged motorcycle, tried to start it, and to my surprise, it eagerly came back to life as if it was just waiting for more miles together. I decided to try riding it the short distance to the hotel. I packed all the loose parts into my backpack and headed down the narrow street to the hotel. Surprisingly, aside from the broken plastics and a coolant leak, I didn’t notice any major damage. The brakes were fine, and the other mechanical components were intact. Nothing was scraping or rattling. It seemed that the force of the impact had only affected the plastics.
Did I have more luck than sense again? I would have to wait for the answer. I arrived at the hotel and left the bike in front. Now I only needed rest and recovery. I had already received the number of the mechanic I was supposed to meet the next day, as soon as I sorted out the issue with retrieving my documents. I was scheduled to report to the local police station in the morning, according to the officers who took my driver’s license.
Upon reporting to the police station in the morning, I was met with a wave of absurdities. The officer refused to let me in because I was wearing shorts, showing me a conspicuous sticker in kind; “No Dogs Allowed.” After a brief exchange using a translator app, as English wasn’t an option, I explained my situation and the reason for my visit. Once I was allowed inside, I was told to wait outside until my turn came. After three hours of inactivity, I was informed that my documents were waiting at a nearby court, and all I received was a slip of paper with the address, room number, and the name of the judge handling my case.
When I arrived at the court, I realized my new predicament. There were also the women from the car I hit waiting outside the room. The atmosphere was friendly, and they expressed concern for my situation and safety after the accident. After a while, I was informed that to give my testimony, I had to wait for a Polish translator, as statements in English were not accepted. The whole situation started to amuse me. I felt like a character in a cheap drama surrounded by absurdities. When the translator finally arrived—a kind older gentleman who spoke Polish fluently—it was my turn to recount the events.
After hearing the full story, which was translated into Serbian, the judge concluded that the fault was still mine, disregarding arguments that the asphalt was slippery and the pedestrian crossing poorly marked. I expected this outcome, and to top off this unique encounter, I was fined 90 euros for causing the collision. After paying the fine on the spot, I retrieved my documents, and thus ended my adventure with the Serbian justice system. Now, all that remained was to deal with the damaged motorcycle.
Entering the workshop area where I was supposed to meet the recommended mechanic, I saw a lot filled with cars and various garages lined up next to each other, each offering different mechanical services. The clamor of Serbian language only added to the chaotic atmosphere at the site. Nonetheless, this was supposed to be the place where I would get another chance to get back on the road, which was not so obvious at the moment.
After talking to a few people, I found out whom I should contact. My future savior turned out to be a painter, not a mechanic, but he knew about my situation and, after showing him a few photos, said that I needed to bring him the motorcycle so we could start working on it. The hotel was 5 kilometers away, so the walk took me a little while. The motorcycle started right away without hesitation, as if it had been waiting for its turn. I secured the broken parts so I could ride the short distance and set off to the location. Riding wasn’t a problem, which was a very positive sign for me, apart from the looks from people regarding what I was riding.
After about 3 kilometers, steam began to come out of the radiator, which definitely added to the drama of my ride, but despite that, I managed to reach the destination. My new savior's name was Nikola, and he definitely did not hold back of drinking, but ran a mechanical and paint workshop with his brother. After a brief conversation, he told me that he could only take me in the next day and that I should leave the motorcycle. I didn’t want to leave it like that and wait. I asked him if he would allow me to use a small space in his workshop where I could disassemble the plastics and see exactly where the cooling system issue lay. He was reluctant but, after explaining that I needed help and I was 1900 kilometers away from my home, which I really wanted to return to, he agreed after a moment of consideration. I got a modest space under a shed where he painted cars. Nikola was keen to repair my fairings and paint them, but I explained that the only help I needed was to fix the motorcycle's mechanical issue.
I started disassembling the plastics. After a while, I had full access to the radiator and verified the nature of the problem. During the crash, one of the plastic parts had punctured the radiator, creating a very small hole through which the coolant was leaking. I was relieved because it was a simple repair, and I began to believe more and more that I still had a chance to return home on my motorcycle. Nikola told me to remove the radiator and said he would repair it by tomorrow. It had been an active day, and to be honest, I was exhausted. After returning to the hotel, it was time for a well-deserved rest. The most important thing was that I was still in the game, and my adventure was still ongoing.
A morning walk along the Adriatic coast set me up well for the new challenges of this beautiful day. I arrived at the familiar workshop area where the clamor was as bustling as a market. It felt distinctly local and definitely not touristy. Visiting such places allows one to better understand the dynamics of local life and get a feel for the everyday atmosphere.
My radiator was ready for installation; the damage was patched up and appeared as if it could withstand thousands of kilometers of driving. I eagerly began the assembly, prepared everything, filled in new coolant, and bled the system. I started the engine and began checking everything. The moment for a test ride arrived, of course, without the fairings. I traversed the city, once again drawing the attention of passersby as it was immediately obvious that something was missing.
Fortunately, I didn't encounter any police on the way, but the most important thing was that the mechanical machine was functioning perfectly. Nothing was leaking or steaming anymore. I started to feel confident that soon I would be on my way again. Upon returning to the workshop, I informed Nikola that everything was working as it should, and he once again insisted on repairing my fairings. After another exchange of words, he relented and allowed me to proceed.
While disassembling the motorcycle before the repair, I devised a plan in my head on how I could tape it up since the damage wasn’t as extensive as I had initially thought. I set to work, and after using 25 meters of power-tape, I was faced with a new look for my machine.
From its original appearance, it had now transformed more into a kind of transformer, but it held together and nothing was loose. The moment of truth had arrived. I thanked Nikola for his help and headed back to the hotel. It was early afternoon, so I decided that I would continue my journey today. After packing my things and preparing everything for the next leg of the trip, I set off. Now the only goal was to get home as quickly and safely as possible. I had had enough adventures already. The first few kilometers were covered with full alertness, checking everything at every stop. The radiator was working fine, and although my repair of the fairings might not have looked spectacular, it served its purpose. That day, I covered another 200 kilometers and moved away from the Montenegrin coast. I found accommodation in one of the picturesque towns, internally celebrating my return to the road.
The next morning greeted me with a beautiful view of the mountains that I hadn't noticed when I arrived here at night and was about to say goodbye to. I felt great, and despite all the inconveniences, my bike seemed ready for the final challenge and to earn a well-deserved rest in the garage. I had over 1600 kilometers to cover, including crossing Montenegro, Serbia, Hungary, and Slovakia before even entering Poland. In the following hours, I joyfully traversed the last mountain roads of this route. The beauty of these roads is hard to describe, but the attached photos at the end of the text will capture a bit of the atmosphere. At each border crossing, I bade farewell to one country and completed another stage of this wonderful journey. Customs officers closely examined the condition of my motorcycle, as it was definitely an unusual sight, but no one stopped me because of it.
I had excellent energy for riding, and with each hour on the road, hundreds of kilometers passed, bringing me closer to the longed-for rest. I got into such a rhythm that before I knew it, I had covered more than half the distance without feeling the fatigue that would make me look for accommodation. I took advantage of this opportunity and didn't stop until I saw the Polish border sign. It gave me a burst of new energy, as if I hadn't already traveled over 1200 kilometers since the previous morning. The last few hundred kilometers were a mere formality.
And so, after 23 hours of riding and covering a total of 1630 kilometers, I arrived home. I had made a deal with the motorcycle when I left Montenegro: if it got me home without any problems, I would rebuild it as good as new. One part of the deal was fulfilled, now it was my turn. Despite the exhaustion reaching every part of my body, I felt a piercing euphoria of accomplishment. Another project completed successfully, I returned, gained a new level of self-understanding, and embraced everything that awaited me on every kilometer traveled. Now it was time for peace, integration of experiences, and appreciating the magnificence of life, which had revealed new, previously unknown chapters to me.
As I write this, I am in the process of fulfilling my part of the bargain, and my bike is waiting for new parts and a thorough service. It deserves it, and I’m already slowly planning my next adventure. This way of exploring the world alone on a motorcycle will definitely stay with me for many years. I love that state when I can completely immerse myself in this pleasure and unrestricted freedom. The Balkans welcomed me not only with their rugged beauty, contrasts, and surprising twists. It was a journey through people, their warmth, and selfless kindness. It was a test for me and my ingrained tendency to do everything on my own and not ask for help. I understood this lesson and am grateful for every facet of it during this journey.
I found myself in situations where, without asking for help, I wouldn’t have moved forward. I am deeply thankful for such a harsh lesson in humility and bow my head to every person who helped me understand and feel all this.
I had moments of helplessness and despair, feeling completely alone and throwing up my hands, but all the while, my inner spark guided me. I trusted myself and was not disappointed. I was given not only the chance to return home but also the opportunity to delve into the stories of individual people, whom otherwise I would have likely passed by on the street without a second thought. Each one of them, without exception, is my hero. I received a demonstration of what it means to be human, regardless of nationality, faith, or geographic location where I found myself in need of assistance. It was an immensely healing experience.
A year has passed, and I celebrated another birthday a few days ago. It’s a good moment for an internal reflection on what has happened and changed. Not only is my motorcycle undergoing a transformation, but so am I, my approach, and the person I am becoming. I am internally proud, but I also know that none of this would have been possible without the situations where I was devastated, sad, and frustrated. This painful lesson was necessary for me to appreciate the multitude of versions of this world and myself moving along with it. I have learned to be more open and kind to others. I have opened my heart and mind to the possibility of receiving help, and I am now even more willing to offer it to others.
I want to thank everyone who has reached this point for their time and attention. This is my longest story to date, but capturing everything that is important required a broad perspective on the events unfolding in the background. I also thank myself for not giving up, for fighting through every difficult situation, and for learning to ask for help from strangers. In this case, the motorcycle journey was merely a backdrop for me to understand the dynamics of the world around me and to discover its beauty hidden in the unexpected events.
I hope each of you is discovering old, no longer useful mental programs on your path and has the courage to acknowledge them. In consequence, to start acting differently—for yourself and for others.
It is the completeness of what we experience that allows us to grow, so let us appreciate every joyful moment and be grateful for every time our hands fall in despair. This is just a broad spectrum of what it means to be human.
Escaping certain emotions just to avoid feeling them will sooner or later bring events into our lives where we can no longer escape. We cannot change the course of events around us, but we can learn to respond more consciously to what comes our way. I used to criticize myself for the number of mistakes and the damage to the motorcycle, but today I am proud of my attitude and how flexibly I can approach the moments I have created myself.
Look broadly at what is happening around you—perhaps you are witnessing situations that will change you for the rest of your life, allowing you to change your life in the way you want.
