Dakar – The adventure of a lifetime

Michał Zoll, in conversation with Ireneusz Korzeniewski, talks about competing in the Dakar Rally—a dream event that can also bring you to tears.

Our conversation about your passion for motorsport—going back to your earliest years—could easily fill the entire magazine. Let’s focus on the most recent chapter: your participation in the Dakar Rally. You’ve started this extreme event twice. The first time was the Dakar Classic 2024 edition.

My first thoughts about starting the Dakar on a motorcycle came when I was
a young guy. Unfortunately, taking part in this rally involves very high costs, so for a long time my dreams remained just plans—and cheering for others. Another spark came when I learned about a new, separate class: Dakar Classic. In this category, only those car models that historically took part in the Dakar can compete. After going through the rally’s history, we found the Porsche 924 on a past entry list—two such cars started in 1981, but neither finished. That was a double motivator for us: first, to try where others hadn’t succeeded, and second, to start in a car that has little to do with off-road. We raised the budget, prepped the car and—in short—lived the adventure of a lifetime, combining our fascination with the Dakar Rally and our love for classic cars.

What were your impressions from that first start?

It was an enormous challenge. In Dakar, everyone talks about preparing both the equipment and the crew—whether you’re in the Classic class or any other. Every mistake shows up once you’re driving. It’s worth adding that each of these classic cars is practically stripped down to the last screw and rebuilt from scratch. We—my brother Łukasz and I competed together—made a few mistakes. The biggest was the wrong engine choice. The turbo we installed turned out to be a complete mismatch. On top of that, we had a gearbox with ratios that were too long—but we were learning everything on the fly, in the toughest conditions. Even so, we finished Dakar Classic, drove onto the podium ramp, and collected the coveted finisher’s medal. It was incredible. I joke that there’s probably no one at Dakar who doesn’t shed a tear after hitting the ramp. When we reached the finish, I couldn’t hold back. All the tension I’d carried for days just released. I burst into tears. It was the culmination of the effort both before the rally—the whole preparation—and during it. Those were tears of happiness and joy.

Knowing how this goes—standing there at the finish, were you already thinking about the next start?

Not… not exactly. We already knew before the finish that we wanted to come back. People often say that after your first Dakar you “catch the bug”: you either want to return, or… never hear about it again. We were already planning the next entry during the Classic. In the end, though, we decided not to return to the Classic class, but to take on the challenge of the “big” Dakar in the Challenger (SSV) category. And so in 2025 we lined up again—this time in a much tougher format. I’ll just say this: a single stage of that rally was harder than the entire Dakar Classic. What we experienced on certain stages is really hard to describe. Sometimes you literally can’t see anything and have no idea what’s next—whether you’ll roll gently off a dune or plunge into a drop. Navigation often feels like navigating the ocean—only instead of water it’s desert sand. Then there’s the vehicle’s condition. We could handle minor issues, but when the engine completely gave up, that was the moment you could break. We didn’t. Our service had a spare engine. After overcoming the technical and formal hurdles (since we failed to complete a stage), we got back on course. We reached the finish. We drove onto the ramp. We completed what we set out to do. Once again, tears of joy ran down our tired faces. And we had just one thought in our heads: “We’re starting again next year.”