During the Christmas holidays in 1993, together with my family, we set off on a long trip with our motor-home. Via France, Spain and Morocco, we reached Western Sahara, aiming for Ad-Dakhla on the Atlantic. It was about 60 kilometres south of El Aaiún, when one tire burst and because of the high speed, our motorhome lurched and finally fell aside, just across the highway. Fortunately, besides my broken wishbone, nobody was injured. The motor-home, however, was nothing but scrap as we learned afterwards.
There was nearly no traffic to help us. About half an hour after the accident, a service car of the Paris-Dakar Rally appeared like an angel, equipped with all kind of tools to support a broken car. As we blocked the road and the rally would arrive soon afterwards, they were obliged to help us. Within a few minutes they managed to put our motor-home on its 4 wheels again and moved it aside from the highway. The motor still worked, but 2 tires were completely destroyed. With one of them I hitch hiked to the next town and returned late at night with a repaired wheel.
At the spot of the accident, alone in the desert, we spent the night inside the completely damaged motor-home, but at least we could sleep there. Next morning we slowly drove back to El Aaiún from where we had to arrange further steps with our insurance. As mobile phones were unknown at this time, it took 3 days to communicate from the post office via several intermediate insurance offices to plan our trip home and that of the damaged motor-home. The latter was put on a flat-bed vehicle and sent to Germany, while we received airplane tickets to fly home. That was the end of travelling with my own motorhome.