The one guy had a Licence to Kill. I’ve got one for the racetrack. Part 2: Taxi rides, parts hunts, and electricity on instalments

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    A few hours earlier — Friday morning. Sitting in a taxi on the way to the track felt like some parallel universe. I was technically heading for a racing licence — something that should smell like control, precision, and “I’ve got my life sorted”. And yet there I was in the back of a taxi, while my own car was six kilometres away, parked up somewhere, probably having a quiet little pity party. The road to Poznań was harmless. The taxi was warm, quiet, reliable. I realised my body was reacting to every normal bit of acceleration like it didn’t trust it — as if it was asking: “Hang on… so it can move without drama?” I leaned my head against the window and stared out, and somewhere between exhaustion and adrenaline an annoying thought popped up: maybe today would actually be… easy. Luckily, day one was theory. No car needed. No starting. No chasing volts. No praying for 14. Just a classroom, rules, flags, behaviour, safety — all the stuff that makes motorsport feel like...
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I’m back!

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Technically, I was never really gone — life just decided to do what it does best: rearrange everything when you’ve finally made a plan.
So I kept postponing. Not dramatically. Just… professionally.

You know the routine, right?
“Maybe tomorrow.”
“Next week for sure.”
“After I’ve sorted a few things.”
“Once things calm down.”
And then the big one: “Next year.”

Spoiler: five years later, it was still “next year”.

It’s funny how that happens. You blink, you make a cup of tea, you blink again — and suddenly half a decade has politely left the building without even saying goodbye.
(Which is rude, if you ask me.)

But here’s the thing: the goals stayed.
The ideas stayed too.
And somewhere along the way a few new ones turned up, uninvited — like that neighbour who knocks “just for a minute” and then somehow ends up sitting in your kitchen, giving you life advice, while you’re standing there holding a mug you didn’t even want.

I’ve had plenty of moments where I thought: “Right. I’ll start properly once everything is perfect.”
Turns out, that day is a myth. Like a quiet airport, a tidy garage, or a Wi-Fi connection that works on the first try.

So this is me doing it differently: starting now, not “someday”.
Not because everything is ready — but because it never will be.
And honestly, if I wait another five years, I’ll probably come back with a walking stick and a list of excuses that could win awards.

What’s coming next?
The adventures. The rallies. The cars. The ridiculous plans that somehow become real stories.
And yes — probably a few detours, because that’s usually where the best parts happen.

So, if you’ve ever had a project you kept delaying until “later”… welcome. You’re in good company.
Let’s go.

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