Homeward Bound!

Some of my very best trip memories are from Croatia. This tiny sliver of land bordering the Adriatic Sea. A country that has seen more than it's share of violence and strife and ethnic struggle over the years. It wasn't all that long ago, people were murdering one another, "ethnic cleansing" the Politically correct phrase is. Somehow, being able to 'justify' themselves in doing so.

Yep, it wasn't all that long ago.

You could still "feel" the tension. Passing through towns and villages in Albania that were shelled to rubble, roads that were still not fully repaired. The obvious concern that the heavily armed Serbian border guards were showing, when I pulled over at their border crossing.

"Move! You must go, move!"

They sure weren't happy with me, when I stopped to shed some clothing next to the building, just meters inside the country. I thought afterwards, 'this must be how some have attacked them before. Blowing up a car or motorbike full of C4 where many policeman gathered.

Even a historic capitol city such as Belgrade, showed signs of bombing and war. Such a shame.

And yet, I found this small country of Croatia, to be one of my favorite places on Earth. Last October, when I left a rainy and windy and dreary Hungary, cold and shivering, slithering about on the slick road surfaces, heading south. South to the coast.

When I popped out of that last long tunnel and saw the azure deep blue of the Sea for the first time, the temperature soaring, taking my drenched spirits along with it. The time I spent in the tiny coastal city of Gradac. How friendly young Isabella and her parents were. Inviting me in, for some home made baklava on their Holy day. I could have stayed all winter right there in that rooftop apartment, for a measly 8 bucks a night.

The warmth of the Sun, as I walked the streets now devoid of most tourists and bathers that only a month before crowded the many sand beaches. Yup. Croatia was right up there in My Top Ten favorite destinations.

I made a choice last year to bypass the Istrian Penninsula. Tire life, the lateness of the season, the impending departure home for the winter. Not this time though, I smiled into my bucket, Sun shining through the somewhat battle scarred visor. I would have been so sad, it would have been so wrong to just give into the miserable riding conditions on the Eastward trek through the Alps, and beeline for HU. I don't know why I decided to turn south, but I was very glad I did. Maybe it was fate, perhaps just random choice, could have been the thought of ending this Incredible Odyessy I was on. Realizing a life long dream, that was... had become a new reality.

I could never put into mere words, the emotion, the feelings I'd had since the descent that first time into Budapest June 19th 2008. The trials of acquiring Piroska, the bottomless depths we'd had to jump through to get a license plate on her, that first ride...

She had carried me into Poland to witness in my own way the horrors that was the Second World War.

Piroska faithfully brought Barb and I back, so she herself could see and feel that for herself.

Little Red had taken me to the gates of Berlin.

To the Acropolis of ancient Greece, in modern day Athens.

Crossed the Danube in Vienna, rode the quiet back roads of the Hungarian Puszta.

And now, we were heading home to HU for the last time together. Twenty two countries,

20, 000 km having past under the wheels. Now... there was only 700 left to go.

Leaving the Adriatic coast behind... watching for the last glimpse of the Sea in my mirrors as I climbed into the mountains once again, the auto route E65/A6 unwinding in front of me, carrying me back home, my Hungarian home, from where I would leave for my home.

Piroska made quick work of the excellent roadway in good weather. The needle spun up to and beyond 130. Even the tolls posed no more hindrance to me. I chuckled to myself the first time I was stopped and paid the toll... in Croatian Kuna... last year heading in the opposite direction, showing 35 on the back lit sign at a similar toll booth, the enterprising operator informed me it was Euro, which I paid in cash. Haha, little did I know then the numbers were in Kuna!! That 35E would have paid for all my tolls in Croatia! I wondered how many times I and others had been 'taken' in the mileage I'd covered. The Shell attendant in Andermatt, a restaurant waiter in Lillafured, many others I'm certain.

When I rode past Zagreb for the third time, and saw the first mileage sign showing Budapest... I knew, with some sadness that the adventure, was nearly over. Just outside Hodosan, I lingered at a nearly completed highway Service center. Drank a hot chocolate, had a sandwich sitting in the mid day Sun. Lingering just a little longer. Even though I had several hundred kilometers to travel yet once I'd crossed the Hungarian border, this was the last time I would be in a Foreign country.

When I arrived at the Hungarian customs gate, the attendant took my paperwork and passport, and asked me where I'd been. He must have thought my hearing was bad, even though he stood just 2 feet from where Piroska and I on top of her, were standing. Taking a moment to think about this, I looked first into the sky, then to the pavement below the front tire, while he repeated his question to me..

"Most nézd csak, hol voltál?" (Look here now, where have you been?)

I came out of my dream and looking at him with a tear in my eye...

I said to him, "Mindenhol..." (Everywhere...)

Puzzled he asked me as he was checking my documents, "mindenhol, és hová mész?" (Everywhere, and where are you going to)

"Haza... megyek haza." (Home... I'm going home.)

The two officers, one a woman looked at one another and just chuckled, "Hát akkor mehetsz!"

(Well then, go on)

And I did just that, I fired her up and clicking the shifter down with a Prexport booted toe, we did!

I wailed on the Divvie, running the engine up to near the red line, in several gears... until the speedo showed 160!

Why?

Because I could.