UnBooks:Ivan's and Lara's vintage car experience

After the harrowing ordeals Ivan and Lara had endured over the past months, Ivan found himself once again tinkering with cars. It was a relief, a true retirement that finally brought him joy, a sanctuary in the mechanics and quirks of each machine. It wasn’t lost on Lara, who watched him with a quiet smile, recognizing the calm that had returned to him in this familiar work.

One day, as they stood in his garage amidst the smell of oil and old metal, Lara glanced at him with a twinkle in her eye. "I've got a surprise for you," she said, her voice carrying a hint of mystery.

Ivan, not missing a beat, raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Funny," he replied, a spark of excitement in his voice. "I’ve got one for you, too."

Chapter 1

Baroque Church

The early morning fog blanketed the quiet countryside as Ivan felt the familiar rumble of his Superb beneath him, a blindfold tied securely around his eyes. Lara, at the wheel, guided the car with practiced ease, relishing in the mystery she’d prepared. Ivan, normally in control, was less enthusiastic about being led blind into an unknown destination.

"How much longer, Lara?" he grumbled, clutching the door handle.

“Just be patient,” she laughed, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “We’re almost there.”

As the hours ticked by, he began to notice a change in the car’s path – winding turns, the distant sound of seagulls, the subtle shift in air that hinted they were near the coast. Eventually, the car came to a gentle halt. Lara slipped the blindfold off, and Ivan squinted as his eyes adjusted, finding himself staring at the iconic white cliffs of Dover. The sight was breathtaking, yet unexpected.

"Dover?" he murmured, arching an eyebrow at her.

“Yes. But don’t get too comfortable,” Lara grinned mischievously, "because the real surprise isn’t here.”

He looked over at her with a mix of amusement and suspicion. “Then where exactly are we going?”

"To Munich," she replied, her eyes twinkling. “I’ve got something special planned for you there.”

Ivan blinked in surprise. Munich had him thinking instantly of German engineering, and one company in particular: BMW. Intrigued and suddenly impatient, he allowed himself a momentary thrill of excitement, though he tried not to let it show too obviously.

After the ferry ride across to Calais, Lara once again blindfolded him, promising him it was worth the wait. Another few hours of winding roads, occasional stops, and the low hum of conversation passed before he felt the car finally slow, turning up a long driveway. When the engine turned off, Ivan felt her hand on his shoulder as she gently untied the blindfold once again.

As his vision cleared, Ivan found himself standing in front of an elegant, aged villa, set on the outskirts of Munich, its weathered walls adding a historic charm. Yet his eyes were immediately drawn to what stood parked in front of the villa: a beautifully restored BMW 502, with its glossy black finish gleaming under the midday sun. Ivan’s breath caught, and he felt a thrill run up his spine as he took in the lines of the car, an example of German automotive elegance.

“I know you’ve been calling this one a ‘Baroque church’ for as long as I can remember,” Lara laughed, noticing the amazement on his face. “But… it’s yours.”

Ivan glanced at her, a faint trace of amusement in his eyes. "You know why they call it that, right?"

Lara’s expression shifted slightly. “I think so, but… not entirely.”

Ivan nodded, turning back to the car. “Well, look at it – all those rounded edges, the sweeping fenders, the chrome details. It’s… excessive. Ornate, like something built to impress everyone who laid eyes on it. A bit like a baroque cathedral.”

For a moment, Lara looked as though she might protest, but she took in the car once more and then sighed, perhaps finding a new appreciation in the nickname. She gave him a small nod. “Alright, I suppose I can see it.”

Overwhelmed, Ivan looked back at the BMW 502, admiring the elegant interior and its luxurious upholstery, an impressive showcase of classic German craftsmanship. "It’s… stunning,” he managed, giving her a grateful smile.

“Go on,” Lara encouraged him, handing him the keys with a grin. “Take it for a spin.”

Ivan barely hesitated, gripping the keys and stepping into the driver’s seat. The interior felt like a time capsule, the aroma of aged leather and polished wood filling his senses. The engine roared to life with a deep, satisfying growl, and he felt the thrill of power under his control as he gently pressed the gas. Testing the car’s responsiveness, Ivan maneuvered the 502 around the gravel drive, getting a feel for the weight and power of the vehicle.

But as his excitement mounted, he couldn't resist one daring flourish. He floored the pedal momentarily, and the powerful V8 responded, the tires spinning slightly against the gravel, sending a cloud of dust behind him. Lara, who had been standing nearby, instinctively stepped back, her eyes widening as the BMW shot forward, narrowly missing her.

“Honestly, Ivan!” she laughed, a hint of exasperation in her voice as she watched him swing the car back around toward her.

A few moments later, Ivan brought the car to a gentle halt beside her, a triumphant grin spread across his face. Lara, still catching her breath, could only shake her head, though a smile tugged at her lips.

"Happy?" she asked, hands on her hips.

“More than happy,” he replied, laughter in his voice, the thrill of the drive lingering. “It’s… perfect.”

Chapter 3

In Munich, Ivan stood by his BMW 502 with a mischievous smile, the boot lid open. Lara gave him a curious, slightly skeptical look.

"In the boot, Ivan? Seriously?" she asked, a blend of amusement and reluctance in her voice.

Ivan simply shrugged, that small smile suggesting he wasn’t about to give away his plan. "Trust me, Lara. I can’t let you see where we're going just yet."

With a sigh of resignation, Lara climbed into the trunk, shaking her head as she settled herself in. Ivan closed it gently, and in a moment, the old BMW was rolling down the German roads. The journey went on, and Lara, huddled in the cramped trunk, soon discovered the less glamorous side of this trip. With each bump, she found herself colliding with the walls of the trunk, muttering in frustration as she hit her elbows or head. Yet even in the discomfort, there was a sense of anticipation—she knew Ivan must have something remarkable in store.

After about four hours, the car finally came to a stop, and when Ivan opened the trunk, he offered her a hand to help her out.

"We’re here," he announced with a calm smile as Lara blinked, adjusting her eyes to the light.

She looked around, finding herself in the Hamburg harbor, surrounded by the sounds of ships and the vast calm of the docks. As she took in the surroundings, Ivan led her to the pier, where an elegant, modern yacht awaited. And on the deck of that yacht, gleaming under the sunlight, was another surprise: a rugged black Range Rover, outfitted with full off-road gear and ready for any adventure.

"Surprise," Ivan said with a proud nod towards the car. "Bought it for you with a bit of the retirement fund. Thought you'd make good use of it."

Lara’s eyes shone with surprise and gratitude as she took in the rugged vehicle. "Ivan… I don’t even know what to say. This is incredible. Thank you."

But Ivan had one more trick up his sleeve. With a playful smile, he said, "How about a race? First one to Croft Manor wins. You take the yacht and the Rover, and I’ll keep the baroque church."

Lara raised an eyebrow, then broke into a smile. "I accept."

With that, Ivan was already back behind the wheel of his BMW 502, making his way towards the ferry. The V8 roared as he pushed the car with a single-minded determination, showing no mercy to speed limits or traffic signs. After arriving in England, he joined the flow of traffic, but he kept pushing, as if there were no restrictions at all. He hit nearly the full 190 km/h top speed, tearing through London with the kind of reckless determination that earned him several speeding tickets. Yet even that didn’t slow him down.

Meanwhile, Lara set sail with the yacht, carefully making her way across the sea towards Britain’s coast. She was mindful of the challenge Ivan had thrown down but chose to enjoy the ride, unbothered by the need for reckless speed. After hours on the water, she finally reached the British docks, smoothly unloaded the new Range Rover, and began the final leg of the journey to the manor.

As she approached Croft Manor, she could already see the silhouette of Ivan’s BMW parked in the driveway. Ivan stood there, leaning against the hood, arms folded with a wide, victorious grin.

"Well, seems the old baroque church still has a few tricks left," he said contentedly, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of the win.

Lara came to a stop, chuckling as she shook her head. "A Range Rover and a yacht, Ivan—if I’d known I’d need that kind of daring to catch you, I might have bent the rules a bit myself."

Smiling, both tired yet satisfied, they walked towards the main entrance of Croft Manor. It was their moment—symbolizing the end of one chapter and the beginning of a new one.

Chapter 4

In the cool silence of Croft Manor's expansive garage, Ivan and Lara worked side by side, surrounded by gleaming tools and an assortment of spare parts. Ivan was focused, methodically moving through the routine of teaching her the finer points of classic car maintenance. They were starting with the basics—checking fluid levels, replacing old parts, changing a tire—and eventually working their way up to the art of tuning a carburetor. The garage was a sanctuary for Ivan, a space where each tool had its place and each car told a story. And today, he was sharing that world with Lara.

“You see, a classic car isn’t just a machine,” Ivan said, tightening a bolt with a seasoned twist of his wrist. “It’s a companion, a partner. You take care of it, it’ll take care of you. These machines have soul. Treat them right, and they’ll be there for you, no matter what.”

Lara absorbed each word, her admiration for Ivan’s knowledge and passion growing with every lesson. He made it look easy, but as she fumbled with a wrench and struggled to tighten a bolt, she realized the depth of skill he had developed over the years. With each task, Ivan showed patience, guiding her hands and explaining why each step mattered. He was determined to teach her that the beauty of a classic car wasn’t just in its look but in the meticulous care it demanded.

Once Lara got the hang of things, Ivan, with a glint of mischief in his eyes, decided to test her newfound skills. He handed her the keys to his cherished Mercedes 220Sb, an elegant yet powerful piece of engineering from an era when cars were crafted with care. He had poured hours into maintaining this particular car, and for him to hand over the keys to anyone was rare.

“Take it easy,” he said with a smile. “She’s got some years on her, and you’ve got to let her warm up before she’ll really perform. Gentle on the gas.”

Lara, eager to make Ivan proud, climbed into the driver’s seat. But the thrill of finally getting behind the wheel got the better of her. She pressed down a little too hard on the accelerator, and the engine roared to life with a sound more aggressive than either of them had anticipated. The car jerked forward, vibrating with an almost alarming intensity. In her excitement, she pressed down even harder, feeling the rush of power.

Before Ivan could say anything, the engine let out a high-pitched whine, followed by a deafening crash. To Lara’s horror, the engine block had come loose, tumbling out of the car with a heavy thud beside her. She sat in stunned silence, her hands still gripping the wheel, her mind reeling with shock.

“Oh… Ivan, I’m so sorry,” she stammered, her face pale as she looked at the mess she’d made. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes as the gravity of what she’d done set in.

Ivan, though, took a deep breath and sighed, his calm demeanor unshaken. He walked over to her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s all right. It happens. It’s how we learn.”

Lara, still visibly shaken, tried to hold back tears. “I just… I didn’t mean to…”

Ivan chuckled softly, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Look, at least now we know what not to do. Let’s take it as a lesson: classics aren’t built for speed like a race car. They need respect, a gentle touch. It’s not about power with these old beauties; it’s about finesse.”

He spent the next hour going over everything with her, patiently explaining how to avoid such mishaps. Lara listened, nodding as she absorbed the wisdom Ivan was offering. The incident became a shared memory, a bit of humor between them that eased the tension and bonded them even more.

Then, with a sparkle in his eye, Ivan finally revealed a plan he’d been waiting to share. “By the way, I’ve signed us up for something,” he said with a knowing grin. “It’s called the Gumbalkan—a rally across Eastern Europe. Thought it might be a good project for us, something we can work on together.”

“The Gumbalkan?” Lara’s eyes lit up as she considered the possibilities. “Sounds… intriguing.”

“It’s a different kind of rally. It’s about resilience and creativity. We’re supposed to take an older car, fix it up, and give it a few… let’s call them ‘creative enhancements,’” Ivan said with a smirk. “And I thought this old BMW 502 could be our rally partner.”

Lara’s gaze shifted to the BMW 502, nicknamed the “Baroque Angel” for its grand, stately design that looked like it belonged to a bygone era. Despite her initial reservations about the nickname—she’d initially thought it was a bit much—she now saw the beauty in Ivan’s comparison. There was something cathedral-like in the car’s design: tall, dignified, with an air of elegance and strength.

Lara’s face brightened as ideas started popping into her head. She wasted no time brainstorming modifications for the BMW. Over the next few days, she scoured catalogs and researched accessories, throwing herself into transforming the Baroque Angel into something they could rely on for the rally. Soon, the car was sporting a custom-fitted roof rack for supplies, gas canisters, ropes, spare tires, and extra headlights for those night stretches through the mountains. She even outfitted the interior with inflatable mattresses, turning it into a rolling sanctuary for longer stops. Proud of her work, she dubbed their creation the Adventure Cathedral.

But Ivan wasn’t about to let her have all the fun. With a grin, he decided to give the BMW a few “upgrades” of his own. Inspired by BMW’s iconic CSL ‘Batmobile’ from the 1970s, he added bold, hand-painted stripes in CSL colors along the sides of the car. He explained the history of the CSL, a cult classic known for its unique aerodynamic design and fearless racing spirit, and Lara listened intently, captivated by his passion for the brand’s legacy.

As they stood back to admire their creation, the car looked like a quirky, battle-ready beast—a mix of Lara’s sense of adventure and Ivan’s reverence for history. It wasn’t just a car anymore; it was a manifestation of their shared journey, a labor of love they had built together, piece by piece. They spent days tweaking every detail, laughing over mishaps, adjusting their plans, and swapping stories as they worked in harmony.

When the modifications were finally complete, Ivan and Lara looked at the Adventure Cathedral with satisfaction, knowing that it wasn’t just prepared for the Gumbalkan but for the countless stories they would create together on the road ahead.

Chapter 5

The day before the rally, Ivan and Lara made the final preparations on the Adventure Cathedral. Ivan led her through a masterclass in tuning a vintage engine, showing her the delicate art of manual adjustment. They were both crouched over the open hood, surrounded by the faint scent of oil and metal, when he spotted the engine’s original horsepower had waned from 140 to a humble 124.

“Not bad for a 1963 car,” he commented, wiping his hands. “But we can do better.”

Lara watched as he meticulously adjusted the valves, his hands moving with a dexterity only a seasoned mechanic could manage. When they finally fired up the engine, it roared with new life, and a grin crept across Lara’s face.

“How much did you wrangle out of it, then?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.

“175 horses,” Ivan said, smiling. “Enough to give us a fighting chance on the rally.”

The next morning, they caught a ferry to France and spent the night in Calais. As the stars dotted the sky, they took a quiet moment together in the back seat of the BMW, laughter and anticipation marking the start of their journey.

After arriving in Prague, they made their way to the rally’s starting point. They stepped out to a field that could only be described as an unorganized car graveyard. Rusting vehicles, battered paint jobs, and improvised modifications covered every corner. Ivan’s eyes lit up like a child in a candy store, while Lara’s brow furrowed slightly at the sheer randomness of the event.

“You have to understand, Lara,” Ivan said, noticing her skeptical expression. “The Gumbalkan isn’t just a rally; it’s a celebration of a certain…Czech humor.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of Czech humor, Ivan,” she replied, smiling wryly. “But I didn’t expect it to include that,” she said, pointing to a clunky Seat Alhambra decked out in an eye-searing ‘Rally’ theme. Instead of the Camel cigarette logo, it sported a poorly drawn camel with testicles for a head, under the bold, unashamed brand of Cumel.

Ivan chuckled. “Ah, yes, that’s a classic. You see, in Czech culture, humor is about…well, pushing boundaries. It’s poking fun at seriousness, especially with things like cars and rallying, which people tend to take a bit too seriously.”

As they strolled further, Lara spotted a massive, pink Lincoln Town Car limousine painted with the bold colors of Wizz Air. Except instead of “Wizz,” the letters spelled out something else entirely: Jizz Air. Lara stifled a laugh, her eyes widening.

“You have to admire the audacity,” she admitted. “There’s something kind of…unhinged about it, isn’t there?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Ivan replied. “It’s almost an art form here. You should see the ones who bring cars like these into serious, formal rallies. That’s the real joke.”

They continued walking, and Ivan pointed out a Citroën Berlingo that had been retrofitted with monstrous tires, looking more like an overgrown dune buggy than a humble family car. Next to it was a Ford Transit covered in leopard print paint and makeshift rally lights, looking like it belonged more in a jungle than on a highway.

“These people really know how to have fun with cars,” Lara observed, her amusement growing.

“Wait till you see the Škoda Favorit section,” Ivan said, grinning. “The Czechs have turned that car into something of a legend. Reliable as a Swiss watch and about as modest as a nun—until they get their hands on it. I swear, they’re probably adding rocket engines to some of them as we speak.”

As they approached their BMW 502, a group of rally-goers noticed them, eyes widening as they took in the sight of the Adventure Cathedral. Ivan, dressed in his well-worn brown suit, greeted them with a grin. When they asked what car he was bringing, he responded casually, “Oh, just a BMW 502 3.2 Super.”

A collective gasp went through the crowd. Even among the rally’s eclectic lineup, the 502 was a rarity, almost a mythical beast on these types of events. It's a post-war BMW's jewel. Some of the rally participants exchanged glances, unable to believe their eyes. And as if to add to the spectacle, they spotted none other than Lara Croft sitting in the passenger seat.

One rally-goer, clutching a camera, nervously approached her. “Um, Miss Croft? Could I…could I maybe get an autograph?”

Lara laughed and nodded, signing his notepad with a flourish. As more people gathered, Ivan noticed the surprised glances and leaned over to her. “Seems you’re a bit of a celebrity around here.”

She rolled her eyes, amused. “Just a bit. But it’s nice to be among people who share a passion for adventure. Even if it’s… well, unconventional.”

They returned to the Adventure Cathedral, where Ivan gave the finishing touches to their BMW. Inspired by the iconic BMW CSL, he took a paintbrush and carefully added a set of hand-painted stripes down the hood. As he worked, Lara added her own touch—a small inflatable mattress tucked in the back seat, in case they needed a quick rest on the road.

“Look at you,” she teased. “Getting all artistic with the paint.”

Ivan grinned. “Well, this car deserves it. A nod to the original ‘Batmobile,’ you could say. Besides, now it’s truly ours.”

She patted the hood affectionately. “Adventure Cathedral, I christen thee.”

Ivan gave her a sidelong look, amused. “Adventure Cathedral?”

She shrugged, smiling. “It fits, doesn’t it? A mix of elegance, adventure, and…well, a little eccentricity.”

The next morning, the rally kicked off. Engines roared to life, and the eclectic mix of cars lined up, each looking as strange and unique as its driver.

Chapter 6

Lara had pictured the Gumbalkan as a chaotic, messy race, full of clunkers driven by people with more enthusiasm than skill. But as they sped along the rally route, she found herself pleasantly surprised. Instead of reckless chaos, the rally felt more like a laid-back, friendly road trip with plenty of humor. Each driver seemed to have their own unique take on “adventure,” with Ivan’s vintage BMW 502 blending in with a sea of eccentric vehicles, each customized in its own bizarre way.

As they cruised, Ivan nodded at the passing cars, explaining them to Lara. “See that one?” he pointed at a beat-up Seat Alhambra with a “Cumel” parody logo, its hood emblazoned with a camel’s body and… well, a highly unfortunate replacement for the camel’s head. “Now, that’s what I call Czech humor. No one’s ever accused us of subtlety.”

Lara laughed, shaking her head. “I’m starting to see that.”

It wasn’t long before a pink Mercedes CLK with a fuzzy interior sped past, its driver waving enthusiastically. Lara stifled a laugh when she noticed the toy-stretch mascot on the dashboard. She raised an eyebrow at Ivan. “And I’m guessing that’s not exactly traditional either?”

“Not traditionally respectable, that’s for sure.” He grinned, shaking his head. “It’s all about the freedom to have fun. Here, everyone just lets loose. It’s kind of the spirit of the Gumbalkan.”

They eventually reached the Slovak border, where the route veered onto an improvised rallycross track. As the cars lined up for a friendly ten-lap race, Ivan leaned over to Lara with a playful grin. “You ready for a proper thrill?”

Lara raised an eyebrow, but she couldn’t hide her excitement. “I don’t think this was in the brochure, but let’s do it.”

At the signal, Ivan floored the gas, sending the BMW roaring forward, kicking up clouds of dust and gravel. Lara clutched the door handle as the car bounced over rough patches, its engine growling with determination. She grinned despite herself, a thrill running through her as they careened around corners. She had never been much of a rally driver, but there was something exhilarating about the sheer unpredictability of the race.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she called out, half-laughing, half-panicked.

“Absolutely not,” Ivan shouted back, eyes alight with the thrill of it. “But that’s what makes it fun!”

As they navigated each turn, the vintage BMW held its own surprisingly well against the newer, flashier rally cars around them. They even managed to overtake a BMW 750iL, which had been customized with strange cat-ear decals.

By the time they crossed the finish line, Lara was both breathless and exhilarated, feeling the lingering adrenaline rush. She glanced at Ivan, and for a moment, she couldn’t resist leaning over and planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “Okay, I admit it—this was a good idea.”

“See?” Ivan replied, his grin wide. “There’s more to life than tombs and treasure.”

As they settled by the campfire that evening, Ivan and Lara found themselves surrounded by a mix of adventurous young faces, one of which was a spirited university couple with an old, battered Lada 2105 parked nearby. The girl, short and blonde with a spark of curiosity in her eyes, glanced between Ivan and Lara, her expression a mixture of admiration and puzzlement.

“Are you two… together?” she asked, a slight blush on her cheeks.

Lara paused, her expression shifting between amusement and mild exasperation as she glanced at Ivan, who gave her a mischievous smile. “Well…” she started, clearly enjoying the suspense.

“Oh, come on,” the guy in the Lada chimed in, leaning forward with a grin. “She’s totally your wife, isn’t she? You both have that… how to say it… vibe.”

Lara shot Ivan a teasing look before finally admitting, “Yes, we’re married.” The young couple gasped, looking genuinely surprised.

“No way!” the girl exclaimed. “I mean, we guessed, but it’s just… wow. That’s amazing!”

Ivan chuckled, poking at the fire with a stick. “I suppose we don’t exactly look like your average couple on a camping trip, do we?”

“Not at all,” the guy replied, laughing. “You seem more like some… super-spy adventurers or something.”

Lara stifled a laugh, while Ivan shrugged with an amused grin. “Close, but not quite. In another life, though, I was a bit of an investigator back in the Czech Republic, and Czechoslovakia actually. Criminal investigator, to be exact. Spent years unraveling mysteries, solving crimes, that sort of thing.”

The young woman looked at him in awe. “Really? That’s incredible. And what about after that?”

“Well,” Ivan said, leaning back with a nostalgic smile. “After I moved to the UK, I had a brief stint as a high school teacher. Thought I’d try to share a bit of wisdom and maybe give some young souls a chance to learn something outside the textbooks.”

Lara’s laughter was soft but full of fondness. “Oh, I bet he was quite the teacher. He’s got stories to tell, all right—just don’t let him scare you off!”

The couple looked at each other, then back at Ivan and Lara with renewed admiration. “And here we are,” Ivan concluded, looking around at the assembled group. “A far cry from police stations and classrooms, on a crazy rally with some of the wildest cars I’ve ever seen. And loving every minute of it.”

Lara added with a playful smirk, “And learning to appreciate the… shall we say, artistic taste in vehicles around here. Not every day you see a pink Mercedes with a… unique dashboard accessory.” They shared a laugh, and the young couple looked at them with newfound respect.

As the fire crackled, Ivan felt a sense of ease, surrounded by the warmth of the flames and the camaraderie of this odd but endearing rally community. For him and Lara, this was more than a race—it was a chance to leave behind their roles as investigator and adventurer, just for a while, and simply enjoy life together.

Chapter 7

On the second day, Ivan and Lara continued their journey, rolling through the Slovak countryside with the sun rising high above the rolling hills. The scenery was peaceful, but as they drove, Lara began to notice the occasional odd sight. Here and there, she saw figures out in the fields, some of whom appeared a bit too close to the sheep. She chuckled, shaking her head as she remembered their friend Görgy and his many anecdotes about the quirks of his homeland.

A short way ahead, they spotted the familiar, boxy shape of the Lada 2105 pulled over by the side of the road, the young couple looking increasingly frustrated as they examined the smoking engine. Ivan pulled up behind them, stepping out of the BMW with his sleeves already rolled up.

“You’re in luck,” he said, smirking as he walked over to the stranded pair. “Ladas might be unpredictable, but I know my way around an old car. Let’s see what’s troubling this one.”

The young man sighed in relief. “You’re a lifesaver, Ivan. This thing’s been giving us trouble all morning.”

As Ivan tinkered with the engine, tightening a few bolts here and adjusting there, he chatted with them about old cars. “You know,” he said, giving the engine a good tap, “I never had a Lada back in the day, even though they were everywhere in the ČSSR. My first car was a Wartburg 311.”

“A Wartburg?” the young woman asked, her eyebrows raised. “When did you get that?”

“Back in ’69,” Ivan replied with a smile, wiping his hands on a rag. “I loved that car.”

The couple exchanged surprised looks, then looked back at Ivan. Despite his grey hair and timeless look, he carried himself with a youthful energy that made his words feel almost unbelievable.

“Wait, if you had a car in 1969… just how old are you?” the guy asked, looking genuinely bewildered.

Ivan chuckled, glancing at Lara, who was barely suppressing her laughter. “I was born in 1950,” he said with a grin, enjoying their shock.

“1950?” The young man shook his head, trying to wrap his head around it. “You don’t look a day over fifty! How is that possible?”

Lara leaned in, deciding to drop a little more intrigue into the mix. “There’s a good story behind that,” she said with a mischievous smile.

Seeing he had their full attention, Ivan began, “Well, back in ’89, I had a… let’s call it an ‘interesting’ encounter. Lara here had traveled back to that time, searching for the Philosopher’s Stone. She was on one of her missions, and let’s just say fate had other plans. I ended up helping her out, and that’s how we met.”

The young woman’s mouth fell open. “So, you’re saying Lara is a time traveler?”

Ivan shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “More or less. Years later, I decided to follow her to her time. In 1997, I came to the present day to be with her.”

The couple exchanged another glance, a mixture of awe and fascination in their eyes. “That’s… that’s incredible,” the guy managed to say.

“Believe me,” Lara interjected, laughing, “life with Ivan is never boring.”

With the Lada fixed once again, they all climbed back into their cars, and Ivan and Lara continued down the winding roads, making their way toward Košice. As they drove through the outskirts of the city, they passed by the infamous Luník IX neighborhood, a sprawling, grey housing estate that had long since seen better days. The stark sight of crumbling facades and neglected surroundings left an uneasy feeling in the air, and Lara glanced away, her expression tight.

“Ivan, this place…” she murmured, looking slightly pale.

He nodded, understanding her discomfort.

They drove on, leaving the bleak sight behind as they wound their way out of Košice. An hour later, they crossed the Hungarian border, the landscape shifting subtly as they moved southward. The road was mostly peaceful, with only the occasional need to pull over and lend a hand to the young couple’s Lada whenever it began to act up again.

As they cruised down the quiet highways, Ivan glanced over at Lara with a contented smile. This journey, with its oddities, challenges, and strange encounters, felt like a different kind of adventure. Not one filled with ancient traps or lost tombs, but with something just as valuable: the simple pleasure of being together, no matter where the road took them.

Chapter 8

As Ivan finished adjusting the Lada’s temperamental engine for what seemed like the third time that day, he glanced over at the young couple, who looked worn out but grateful.

“You know,” he said, scratching his chin thoughtfully, “we’re heading in the same direction. Why don’t you come with us? Follow us in the Lada, and if it gives you any more trouble, you can hop in with us.”

The couple exchanged glances, clearly relieved by the offer. “Are you sure? We don’t want to slow you down,” the young man said, trying to hide his eagerness.

Ivan waved off the concern with a grin. “Don’t worry about that. Besides, it’ll give us a chance to swap a few more stories on the road.”

With a bit more confidence, the couple nodded and agreed. They trailed behind Ivan and Lara’s BMW as they continued on toward the historic monastery the old woman in the café had told them about. The Lada, though prone to bouts of stalling and sputtering, managed to keep up on the winding backroads through the Hungarian countryside.

The monastery itself stood atop a gentle hill, a quiet, mysterious silhouette against the clear sky. When they parked, Lara took the lead, her sharp gaze sweeping over the old stone walls and moss-covered statues. Ivan hung back with the couple, sharing with them his fond memories of exploring similar places back in his youth.

As Lara ventured deeper into the monastery, she soon discovered the old relic they’d been told about—an ancient, engraved medallion encrusted with faded gemstones. Carefully, she slipped it into her bag, smiling at the thought of Ivan’s reaction once she showed it to him.

Meanwhile, Ivan entertained the young couple with more stories, recounting tales of his life in Czechoslovakia, blending history with humor. The couple listened intently, laughing at his dry wit and clever anecdotes, and they quickly found themselves captivated by his charisma and unexpected charm.

Soon, Lara returned, giving Ivan a satisfied nod. “Ready to go?” she asked, patting the bag where she had stowed the artifact.

Ivan smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Already got your treasure, then? Let’s hit the road before this place decides it wants to keep us.”

As they left the monastery, they all piled back into their cars, with the Lada doing its best to keep up with the BMW. The rolling hills eventually gave way to views of Lake Balaton in the distance, shimmering under the late afternoon sun. The young couple seemed more relaxed now, as if the ancient landscape and the company of their newfound friends had cast a spell over them.

Chapter 9

The black BMW 502 3200S, affectionately known by Ivan as the “Cathedral,” pulled up to the shores of Lake Balaton, its sleek, vintage lines and classic racing stripes commanding quiet respect among the patched-up, battered vehicles parked around the Gumbalkan gathering. The sight of Ivan’s BMW—a gleaming relic among a sea of temporary camps and road-weary cars—was something to behold. Fellow drivers lounged around makeshift camps, relishing a rare break from the road, while the young couple who had joined them in their Lada 2105 rolled in behind, the old car giving a final sputter before its engine settled into silence.

Ivan, wasting no time, grabbed his folding chair and olive-green jacket from the trunk, throwing a fishing hat on with the ease of someone slipping into a well-worn role. Setting up by the water, he cast his line with a steady, practiced hand, his gaze fixed on the calm, rippling surface of the lake.

Lara watched him from a few steps away, the sight stirring memories that took her back to another lake, another moment by the water’s edge—but under vastly different circumstances.

It was 1989, and she was on one of her most audacious missions yet: a search for the elusive Philosopher’s Stone. She and her friend Harry had traveled back in time, planning to infiltrate Czechoslovakia and secure the artifact before vanishing back to their own time. But things had taken a quick and drastic turn. The Czechoslovak state apparatus—a vast and unrelenting web of military, police, and paramilitary forces—seemed to have her scent from the moment she crossed the border.

Cornered by the Czechoslovak People's Army near the Slapy Reservoir, with VB patrols and SVAZARM units closing in, Lara had made a split-second decision. Strapping on her full diving gear, she leapt off the embankment, executing a perfect swan dive into the dark, cold depths of Slapy. The move was risky, but it was her last hope of slipping past the tightening net. She submerged herself deep, hoping the lake’s cold, inky water would shield her from detection.

Minutes passed, and just when she thought she might have escaped, her radio crackled to life, breaking the silence with an unexpected, heavily accented English. The voice was calm yet firm, offering no introduction, only instructions. Startled, Lara listened, her heart pounding as she tried to make sense of this unexpected communication. Against her better judgment, she didn’t surface, her instincts telling her to hear this stranger out.

At first, the voice seemed almost interrogative, asking questions in clipped, stilted English. But as the minutes dragged on, the conversation shifted. The stern tone softened, becoming almost… friendly. What began as a terse exchange stretched into a curious dialogue, a strange and unlikely connection forming across the radio waves. Lara found herself intrigued by the speaker’s wry humor and steady patience, his genuine curiosity about what had led her to such extremes. The two of them talked for hours, his thickly accented English a grounding point in the dark, frigid water.

But exhaustion was catching up with her. The hours of intense swimming, the cold seeping into her bones, the weight of her equipment—all of it began to take its toll. Her thoughts grew foggy, and before long, her fingers slipped from the radio. Darkness overtook her as she lost consciousness, her body floating just below the water’s surface.

The next thing she remembered was the piercing light of headlamps cutting through the darkness, then rough hands pulling her upward. SVAZARM divers had found her, alerted by the radio signal, and hauled her out of the water, her body limp and icy cold. When she finally regained full consciousness, she was lying in a small, dimly lit room, wrapped in blankets with a tin cup of hot tea pressed into her hands.

And that’s when she met him—face-to-face this time. Ivan Tůma, a criminal investigator with Prague’s VB, officially off duty but clearly entangled in something much bigger. He was the man behind the voice, the one who’d kept her talking through the dark hours underwater. And here he was, sitting across from her, looking as if he’d simply stumbled upon her by chance. He wore the same olive-green jacket he now wore by Balaton’s shore, his fishing hat cocked at a casual angle, his expression calm but assessing.

Back then, she’d initially pegged him as just another cog in the machine, some bureaucrat with a badge who would hand her over to the authorities. But instead, Ivan surprised her. He asked her about her journey, about her reasons for being there, and in his gentle probing, she sensed a keen understanding of the risks and strange motivations that had led her to that place.

That first meeting had changed everything for her. She’d realized not all who worked within the iron structure of the Eastern Bloc were soulless automatons. Some, like Ivan, navigated the system with a quiet defiance, finding ways to lend a hand where they could, to make small, subtle differences. Her assumptions about the world shifted that day, her respect for Ivan growing with every exchange, every challenge he helped her through.

As Lara blinked, returning to the present, she realized she’d drifted close to him without even noticing. The sight of him now, sitting by the lake, rod in hand, jacket and hat just as she remembered, stirred a warmth she couldn’t quite describe. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder, feeling the familiar fabric of his jacket beneath her hand.

From a short distance away, the young couple in the Lada watched them with open curiosity. They didn’t know the history that lay behind Ivan and Lara’s quiet companionship, nor the tangled stories that connected them. But as they observed the two sitting in peaceful silence, they sensed something deep and enduring in the bond between them.

Lara didn’t mind the curious onlookers. For now, there was only the peaceful ripple of Lake Balaton, the quiet strength of Ivan beside her, and the memory of the journey they’d shared—both the tumultuous past and the tranquil present. She held him a little closer, content in this stolen moment of peace, knowing that soon the road would call again.

Chapter 10

The next morning, as the first rays of sun rose over the horizon, Ivan and Lara woke up in their BMW. However, their wake-up was far from ordinary. Instead of being parked where they left it, their car seemed to be moving. They blinked awake, took a look around, and realized, to their surprise, that their BMW 502 was floating – right in the middle of Lake Balaton.

"Good morning, dear," mumbled Lara, still blinking in disbelief. "Didn’t we park on dry land last night?"

Ivan glanced around and sighed. "Yeah, that’s what I thought too. But it seems our cathedral has turned into a boat overnight. Another story for the campfire, I suppose."

Fortunately, a few locals in boats noticed their floating predicament and came over to help. With a bit of assistance – and more than a few amused stares from the shore – they managed to get the BMW back on solid ground. After dusting off from this peculiar “adventure,” they decided to head to the Balaton Circuit, where the Gumbalkan rally had planned its next leg.

On the way, Ivan’s mechanic skills were once again put to the test when Tomáš and Veronika’s battered Lada broke down by the roadside. Ivan instantly offered to help, giving the carburetor a few well-placed taps and applying a bit of duct tape, bringing the Lada back to life with a few quick fixes.

"I’m telling you, Wartburg was a better car," Ivan grumbled as he finished up and wiped his hands on an old rag. "The Lada has soul, but it often comes with curses."

"You’re a lifesaver, Ivan," said Veronika gratefully.

When they finally reached the circuit, they discovered that there was going to be a twenty-lap race as the main event of the day. Confident that their “Adventure Cathedral” could handle another challenge, they decided to join in. Ivan sat behind the wheel with a determined expression, while Lara, strapped into the passenger seat, flashed him her signature adventurer’s grin – fully aware that another bout of madness was on the horizon.

As the race began, it was clear from the start that this was no simple cruise. The Balaton Circuit was full of tight curves and quick straights that tested not only the limits of their old BMW but also Ivan’s reflexes. The car tilted and groaned, and the aged suspension fought hard against the speed and weight.

In the middle of a particularly sharp turn, however, something unexpected happened. Ivan, fully focused on maneuvering the car, slid off his seat as the car jerked, and the gear shift lever ended up exactly where it shouldn’t have.

"Ow!" he yelped, eyes wide in surprise and pain. Lara immediately turned, looking shocked.

"Ivan, what happened?!" she shouted.

"Let’s just say I’ve parked myself… in a very uncomfortable spot," he groaned, attempting to shift back but only finding himself more entangled with the gear stick, eliciting another involuntary yelp.

With impressive determination, they somehow managed to finish the race. Despite the discomfort – and the car’s loud complaints – they crossed the finish line without any breakdowns, coming in sixth out of twenty. Quite an accomplishment, considering the circumstances.

Once they finally got off the track, Lara leaned over to Ivan with a sympathetic smile. "Alright, hero. Let’s see about getting you un-stuck from that gear stick."

With gentle hands and a smirk she couldn’t hide, she helped Ivan carefully climb out of the car. When Tomáš and Veronika came over to ask how the race had gone, Ivan dryly replied, “Let’s just say this cathedral has some new church pews.”

The rest of the day passed peacefully as they recovered from the race, gathering their energy for the next leg of the rally. Although every adventure seemed crazier than the last, Ivan and Lara knew that it was moments like these that made life truly worth living.

Chapter 11

The old BMW 502 cruised along Hungarian roads, finally bringing Ivan and Lara to the historic city of Budapest. After winding through the streets and soaking in the sights, Ivan decided it was time for Lara to try her hand at driving this beast of a machine.

“All right, Lara, time for you to get a taste of vintage driving,” Ivan said, sliding out of the driver’s seat with a mischievous grin.

Lara looked at him, equal parts curious and wary. "You’re sure? I’ve driven all sorts of vehicles, but I’ve never wrestled with one that looks like it came from a museum."

“Exactly! Consider it a history lesson,” Ivan teased. He held open the door, and with a shrug, Lara climbed in, gripping the wheel. As she attempted to turn it, her eyes widened.

“This is… it’s like driving a tank set in concrete!” she exclaimed, straining to move the car even a little. Every turn of the wheel felt like an arm workout, and Ivan chuckled as she tried to coax the heavy steering into something resembling a straight line.

“Power steering is for the weak,” Ivan quipped. “Back in the day, you really had to earn your turns.”

After a slow, somewhat jerky ride through Budapest, they parked and found a cozy restaurant, where the vintage driving challenge was quickly forgotten over plates of traditional Hungarian food. The evening allowed them to relax and enjoy each other’s company, free from the demands of the rally for a little while.

The next morning, though, they woke to an unexpected sight—a sheep stood by their bed, balancing a breakfast tray with a steady hoof. Lara blinked in astonishment, then stifled a laugh as Ivan raised an eyebrow, taking it in stride as if this were a normal part of the Gumbalkan experience.

“Well,” Ivan said with a sigh, “breakfast in bed...courtesy of our woolly friend.”

Once they’d eaten (and given their sheep waiter a gentle pat), they joined the rally convoy, crossing the border into Romania. It wasn’t long before Ivan noticed Tomáš and Veronika by the side of the road, their battered Lada 2105 hood open, with Tomáš peering helplessly into the engine.

“Looks like our friends need a hand,” Ivan muttered, pulling over. He strode over to Tomáš, who looked relieved at the sight of someone with more than basic engine knowledge.

“Ivan, thank god you’re here! I don’t know what’s wrong; we just heard this awful sputtering and then—nothing.”

Ivan inspected the engine with a practiced eye and a touch of nostalgia. “These Ladas can be tricky. In the old days, we had a saying: if it’s from the Soviet Union, you have to treat it like it owes you money.”

Tomáš and Veronika watched as Ivan calmly picked up a heavy wrench, adjusted a few parts, then—without warning—delivered a solid whack to the engine block. The pair jumped, eyes wide, as he struck it once more, then checked the connections.

“Is… is that safe?” Veronika asked, looking horrified.

“For this beauty? Absolutely,” Ivan replied confidently, lifting the wrench once more. “Ladas aren’t delicate; they’re meant to be beaten into compliance.”

One final smack, and the engine roared to life. Tomáš stared, incredulous. “I didn’t know you could just… hit it like that.”

Ivan grinned, handing the wrench back. “Sometimes, that’s exactly what it needs. Soviet cars are built tough. You treat them too gently, they think you don’t mean business.”

Tomáš and Veronika exchanged a look, a mixture of relief and awe. “You know, Ivan, I think you might be a genius,” Tomáš admitted.

“Experience, not genius,” Ivan replied with a shrug. “I’ve been driving these cars longer than you’ve been alive.”

As the convoy pressed on, the Romanian roads soon proved challenging. Ivan’s BMW, with its boat-like suspension, swayed heavily, making Lara a little green as they bumped along. She tried to hold it in, but eventually, her stomach gave up.

Unfortunately for the neighboring Seat Alhambra, which sported a tacky “Cumel” decal and the image of a very creatively re-imagined camel, Lara’s breakfast made a grand exit onto its side window.

Ivan glanced at the mess, unfazed. “Well, that’s one way to leave your mark.”

Chapter 12

As they neared Bucharest’s sprawling urban edge, Ivan's face grew tense. The BMW’s engine purred steadily as they rolled through winding streets, inching closer to the heart of the Romanian capital. Lara, enjoying the breeze through her open window, barely noticed his change in expression.

"Lara," Ivan said, his voice firm as he shifted his gaze to her. "Close the window. This isn’t the place to be casual about security."

Lara flashed him a dismissive grin, letting her fingers trail through the air outside. “Oh, come on, Ivan. I’ve faced far worse than a crowded city street. Who’d dare try anything with you sitting here?”

Ivan sighed, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, knowing how stubborn she could be. “Suit yourself. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

They cruised further into Bucharest, slowing as traffic thickened in the bustling afternoon. The streets were alive with vendors, pedestrians, and the occasional stray dog weaving through the sea of people. The city had a vibrant energy, but Ivan’s gaze remained watchful, flicking from one passerby to another.

As they approached a busy intersection, they halted at a red light. Lara leaned forward, gazing curiously at a nearby street vendor selling colorful trinkets and jewelry. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow flicker near her window. Before she could react, there was a sudden, sharp tug at her neck, and she instinctively reached up, only to find her necklace gone.

“What the—” she started, turning sharply toward Ivan, but she barely had a moment to process the theft. Just as she opened her mouth to protest, another hand darted through the window, this time grabbing the edge of her top and yanking it with astonishing speed. In one swift motion, the thief tore it away, leaving her stunned and sitting in nothing but her bra. Her face went from shock to pure crimson in seconds.

Ivan turned, his eyebrow arching in exasperation mixed with amusement. “And this, my dear, is why I told you to close the window,” he said dryly, reaching over to crank the window shut. Lara, still mortified, fumbled through her bag, trying to find anything she could cover herself with.

Her cheeks burned, but she managed to pull a spare jacket from her bag, hurriedly slipping it on and buttoning it up. Though unfazed by Ivan’s presence—he’d seen her in all sorts of states during their countless adventures—she could feel the stares of locals gathering around, lingering on her exposed state with bemused curiosity. Even the taxi drivers, perched at the curb, had turned to watch the scene unfold, some raising their eyebrows and muttering under their breath.

“Perfect,” she muttered, pulling the jacket tighter around her as the light turned green. As the BMW lurched forward, she could feel the whispers following her, a mix of intrigue and judgment in every glance from the locals who had witnessed her ordeal.

Ivan shot her a quick look, unable to hide a slight smirk. “I warned you,” he said, attempting a sympathetic tone but failing to mask the humor in his eyes.

“Next time, maybe warn me a little more… aggressively,” Lara replied, trying to regain her composure as she adjusted her jacket. She glared back at him, but there was a glint of playful annoyance in her gaze. Ivan shrugged and kept his attention on the road, saying nothing but clearly relishing the irony of the situation.

Moments later, the BMW approached Bucharest’s famous Palace of the Parliament, its vast, looming structure casting an imposing shadow over the surrounding buildings. Even from a distance, the palace seemed to dominate the city’s skyline, a behemoth of concrete and marble stretching toward the sky.

As they neared, Lara gazed up in awe, momentarily forgetting her mishap. The sheer scale of the building took her breath away; its massive columns and endless rows of windows seemed to stretch on forever. "Incredible," she murmured, unable to tear her eyes away.

Ivan’s expression darkened as they pulled up to the square in front of the palace. “Impressive, yes… but there’s more to it than that.” His tone was somber, a hint of bitterness in his voice as he glanced at the colossal building.

Seeing her curiosity, he continued, “This, Lara, is Ceaușescu’s grand project. The second-largest administrative building in the world after the Pentagon. Twenty thousand people were displaced just to make room for it. Entire neighborhoods razed to the ground. Billions poured into construction while people were left struggling for basics—heat, food, even electricity.”

Lara’s face fell as the gravity of his words sank in. The palace, which had seemed so magnificent at first, now felt different—a monument built on the suffering and deprivation of an entire population. She let her gaze linger on its cold facade, a mix of admiration and sorrow stirring within her.

“It’s beautiful, in a way,” she said quietly, “but… knowing what it cost…”

“It’s a palace of shadows,” Ivan murmured. “A symbol of power built on broken promises.”

They stood there in silence, the weight of Bucharest’s troubled history settling over them as they took in the grand but haunting sight of the palace.

Chapter 13

After their visit to the Palace of the People, Ivan and Lara made their way back to their “Cathedral”—the 1963 black BMW 502 3200S with racing stripes reminiscent of the legendary BMW 3.0 CSL. But as they approached the car, something felt off. Ivan’s jaw clenched when he saw it: every single BMW badge had been stripped from the hood and trunk, leaving empty spaces where the iconic logos had once shone.

“This is getting ridiculous,” he muttered, running his hand over the blank spot on the hood.

Lara barely held back a laugh. “Welcome to Bucharest. Consider it a warm welcome.”

Ivan quickly scanned the parking lot and noticed a pristine BMW M5 parked nearby, one of the few modern cars around, its badges practically gleaming in the afternoon sun. With a look of resolve, he pulled a small crowbar from the trunk of his BMW.

Lara’s eyes widened. “Ivan, are you serious?”

“When in Romania, do as the Romanians do,” he replied calmly, prying off the badges from the M5 with practiced precision. Once he had them, he deftly affixed them to his own car, ensuring they looked as if they’d always belonged there.

Lara shook her head in disbelief, still trying to process his uncharacteristic behavior. “I never thought I’d see the day…”

He shrugged, wiping his hands. “Sometimes you have to adapt, or you’ll just end up as the fool.”

Just as they settled back into their seats, Lara felt a sudden tug at her wrist. Before she could react, someone slipped in behind her, and with alarming precision, stripped her entire outfit away in a matter of seconds, leaving her sitting in nothing but her underwear. She gasped, her face instantly flushed as she realized the full extent of her predicament. Around them, curious locals cast amused and intrigued glances at her, clearly enjoying the unexpected spectacle.

“I can’t believe this just happened,” she murmured, her cheeks a deep shade of red. Bucharest had officially become a nightmare.

Ivan raised an eyebrow as he took in her state. “Looks like you’ve made your own little donation to the local economy.”

With a sigh, Lara ducked into the backseat, grabbing a jacket and quickly pulling it over herself to cover up. “There’s nothing like sightseeing in your underwear,” she muttered sarcastically, buttoning up the jacket.

As she settled back into her seat, defeated, Ivan started the engine, chuckling to himself as they pulled out onto the road once more.

When they finally reached the edge of the city, Ivan glanced in the rearview mirror, exhaling in relief. “I don’t think anything in Romania can surprise me anymore.”

Lara managed a laugh, finally relaxing. “Good thing we’ve got those new badges. Next time, I’ll be a lot more careful.”

And so, their “Cathedral” continued down the winding Romanian roads, each of them richer for the strange, ridiculous, yet undeniably memorable experience they’d had in Bucharest.

Chapter 14

As the sun began to rise, casting a golden glow over the steep, winding curves of the Transfăgărășan Highway, Ivan and Lara readied themselves for the race. They’d already been through quite the Romanian initiation ceremony, but today promised a different thrill: a high-speed showdown on one of the most iconic mountain roads in the world. The stakes were high, with plenty of pride (and a few egos) on the line.

Just behind them was Tomáš and Veronika in their seat-shaking Lada 2105, engines revving as they eyed their rivals. Lara gave them a little wave in the rearview mirror, smirking, while Ivan tapped his fingers on the wheel, a subtle display of his impatience to show these two what the “Cathedral” could do.

As the countdown began, Ivan leaned over to Lara. “Ready for a little adventure?”

She laughed. “With you, isn’t it always?”

The light turned green, and they shot forward, tires squealing as they charged up the first series of hairpin bends. Ivan handled the BMW with the precision of a surgeon, gliding through the turns while Lara adjusted her sunglasses and occasionally waved to Tomáš and Veronika as they attempted to keep up. The poor Alhambra was already struggling to keep pace, and soon enough, they were left in the dust.

Along the way, a group of sheep decided to make an impromptu appearance, blocking half the road. Ivan swerved masterfully around them, but not before Lara threw her head back, laughing. “Isn’t this the perfect Romanian obstacle?”

Tomáš and Veronika weren’t so lucky. The sheep seemed to have taken a particular dislike to their Alhambra, and as they tried to navigate through the herd, one particularly stubborn ram charged headfirst into the side of their car, leaving them stalled for a few seconds as the furry blockade refused to budge.

Ivan gave them a sympathetic wave as they roared past. “Looks like we’re winning this one!”

Soon, they found themselves approaching the final, steep ascent, racing neck and neck with another car—a sleek German Porsche driven by an overly serious man in aviators. The Porsche was fast, but Ivan had something even better: sheer audacity.

He floored the gas pedal, grinning as the BMW roared to life and began to gain ground. The driver of the Porsche looked over in shock as they overtook him on a sharp curve, a risky maneuver that had Lara clinging to her seat, her laughter mingling with a hint of terror.

By the time they reached the top, they’d left both the Porsche and the Alhambra in the dust, coming in second only to a barely faster Ferrari. Ivan let out a triumphant whoop, pumping his fist in the air as they coasted to a stop.

Once at the finish line, Lara hopped out, flashing a wide grin at Tomáš and Veronika as they rolled up a few minutes later, looking a bit worse for wear with fresh sheep hoofprints on the side of their car.

“What kept you?” she teased, crossing her arms.

Veronika rolled her eyes. “Next time, we’re getting a BMW.”

“Good choice,” Ivan replied, tapping the hood of his own car with a satisfied grin.

After a few laughs and some good-natured ribbing, they all regrouped, gearing up for the next leg of the journey. Ivan and Lara climbed back into the BMW, setting their sights on Serbia.

As they crossed the Romanian border, Ivan glanced over at Lara. “Think they’ll miss us?”

She smirked, pulling on her seatbelt. “I think they’ll have enough stories to last them a while.”

With one last look at the winding roads they’d conquered, they drove off, ready to see what unexpected adventures Serbia would bring.

Chapter 15

Driving through Serbia, Ivan and Lara found themselves both enchanted and mildly shocked. The Serbian landscape, with its hills and lush forests, was striking—until they tried navigating its roads. Each stretch of asphalt was a rollercoaster of potholes and bumps, but their “Cathedral,” with its soft, forgiving suspension, handled it all with surprising grace. Still, the intense ride was beginning to wear on Lara, who started to feel a bit queasy.

“Ivan, could we stop for a moment?” she asked, clutching the door handle, her mind already set on an excuse for her actual intentions.

Ivan shot her a slightly suspicious glance, but ultimately pulled over to the side of the road. Lara quickly got out and made her way toward a nearby old church ruin, moving inconspicuously. Once out of sight, she disappeared into the stone remnants and emerged several minutes later with an ancient vase stashed carefully in her bag. After twenty minutes, she finally reappeared, and Ivan was waiting, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel with faint impatience.

“So, feeling better?” he asked, his tone tinged with irony.

Realizing he’d likely figured it out, Lara decided to come clean. “Well… let’s just say this little detour was worth it,” she said, briefly showing him the ancient vase in her bag.

Ivan raised an eyebrow, glancing at the artifact before nodding with dry amusement. “Byzantine, huh? Always good to have an expert on artifacts on board.”

Sharing a smirk, they continued their drive through Serbia, which held yet another surprise in store. At one point, while on a smaller road away from the main route, a deer suddenly leapt into their path. Ivan barely had time to react before the car hit the deer with a dull thud, leaving it sprawled at the roadside. Maintaining his calm, Ivan pragmatically hoisted the deer onto the car’s roof, where it swung in rhythm with each bump in the road.

They finally reached the campsite, where the rest of the Gumbalkan convoy had gathered. Among the assorted cars, one particularly caught Ivan’s eye—a Škoda Rapid 130 with a vintage Porsche-inspired livery, complete with the word “Škorše” emblazoned along the sides. Its rusting wheels betrayed years of rough use, but it had character.

No sooner had Ivan parked than the inevitable happened: the “Škorše” accidentally rolled forward, bumping into the rear of his BMW 502. The Škoda driver, a young guy with a sheepish grin, quickly stepped out to admit his blunder. Despite the rarity of the BMW 502, Ivan shrugged it off with a smile, suggesting, “How about a piece of grilled deer as an apology?”

The driver of the Škoda was thrilled, and Ivan set about preparing the deer for the grill, much to Lara’s surprise. She watched as Ivan—whose life had been filled with rigid routines and criminal investigations—suddenly relaxed by the fire, expertly turning the meat on the grill, almost as if he’d forgotten the weight of his past responsibilities. It was one of those moments where Lara saw a side of Ivan that enjoyed life’s small pleasures, a side she rarely got to see.

After a hearty dinner, they shared an intimate moment on the back seat of the “Cathedral” before finally deciding to set off for Slovenia. They left Serbia behind, carrying memories of beautiful landscapes, wild roads, and unexpected moments that brought them closer than ever.

Chapter 16

As they crossed the Slovenian border, Ivan and Lara felt an immediate shift. The roads were smoother, the scenery calm and breathtaking, with a backdrop of the distant Alps framing their path. Their pace slowed as they wound their way through Slovenia, taking in the serenity of the countryside—a stark contrast to the rugged and unpredictable roads they’d tackled in Serbia.

Hours later, they approached the enchanting town of Bled, their final destination. The lake appeared before them, its crystal-clear waters mirroring the alpine sky. Lara’s eyes widened as she took in the scene. “It’s stunning,” she murmured, the deep blue water reminding her of distant beaches in Thailand.

Ivan parked their black BMW 502, affectionately known as the “Cathedral,” along the lake’s edge. Stretching, he wasted no time changing into a more relaxed outfit, swapping his usual attire for swim trunks and a casual shirt. After setting up a folding chair, he leaned back, letting the sun soak into his skin as he enjoyed the peaceful moment.

“I’m going for a dive,” Lara announced, checking her equipment with an unmistakable glint of excitement in her eyes. “Might see if there’s anything interesting below.”

Ivan chuckled, knowing well enough by now that “interesting” for Lara usually meant some ancient relic or lost treasure. “Alright, but be careful. Just… try not to bring any curses back with you,” he said with a smirk.

Lara just laughed. “No promises.” And with a swift movement, she was gone, slipping beneath the water's surface, leaving only ripples in her wake.

As Ivan relaxed, a group of young participants from the Gumbalkan rally ambled over, all admiring his vintage BMW. They were driving an Opel painted in a parodic “Afrika Korps” style, complete with faux military insignia and dusty desert camouflage. One of them, a lanky guy with a mischievous grin, offered him a cigarette. “Zaza?” he asked, holding it out.

Ivan glanced at the cigarette, raising an eyebrow. “Why not,” he said, accepting it. Lighting up, he took a slow drag, appreciating the camaraderie with these young adventurers. They gathered around, asking him questions about his life, his travels, and his thoughts on nearly everything—listening in awe as he offered advice and shared a few hard-earned lessons.

In between puffs, his radio crackled to life. Lara’s voice came through, slightly muffled but unmistakably excited. “Ivan, you’re not going to believe this,” she said. “There’s some kind of underwater temple down here. It’s… ancient.”

Ivan nearly laughed in surprise. “Really?” he replied, trying to keep his tone calm, though he couldn’t help but feel intrigued. “Of course, you’d find a temple at the bottom of a lake.”

The young group around him listened in awe, overhearing snippets of Lara’s transmission. “Your wife’s a diver?” one of them asked.

“Oh, more than that,” Ivan replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “She’s an explorer. She lives for things like this.”

The group was thoroughly impressed, especially as Lara continued to update him over the radio, describing strange carvings and old stone structures that seemed far older than the lake itself. For a moment, even the wild party atmosphere of the Gumbalkan rally faded into the background as they listened to Ivan and Lara’s incredible life unfold.

“Be careful down there, Lara,” Ivan said one more time, his voice carrying a note of warmth and respect. As he took another drag, he knew that with every new adventure, she would always manage to surprise him—and, more often than not, everyone around them.

Chapter 17

The last golden light of day slipped behind the peaks as Ivan scanned the lake, concern etched into his face. Lara had been underwater far longer than expected, and her radio silence stirred a deepening worry in him. The quiet ripples on Lake Bled now seemed unnervingly still, their serenity at odds with the anxious thudding of his heart.

As Ivan began to consider the worst, a rally crew from the Gumbalkan event approached, seeing the worry on his face. Dressed in retro desert-style military uniforms and passing around hand-rolled cigarettes, they looked like a cast of adventurers from a distant era. But at Ivan's request, their laughter faded to seriousness as they helped him commandeer a small boat, paddling swiftly toward the spot where Lara had dived.

Their urgency paid off: just as Ivan spotted Lara struggling to surface, the group erupted in encouragement, each shouting for her to push through the last few meters. Ivan wasted no time, jumping into the lake to help her the final stretch. Her face, exhausted but determined, softened into relief as he reached her side, pulling her up and onto the boat with the help of the rally crew.

Back on shore, as Lara caught her breath, Ivan took a long drag from one of the rally crew’s cigarettes—a joint, she realized with a chuckle. With a playful look, he offered it to her, and she surprised herself by accepting. After such a close call, the effects brought a comforting relaxation, a quiet release from the tension that had gripped her. They stood side by side, leaning into each other as the lake shimmered under the moonlight.

After the stress of the day and Lara’s harrowing underwater adventure, the lakeshore had taken on a quiet but jubilant air. Ivan’s gaze lingered over the lake, where ripples danced under the pale moonlight. Lake Bled held a serene beauty that almost felt sacred, yet the energy of the Gumbalkan rally crew, half-drunken and boisterous, added a layer of reckless, festive vitality to the evening.

When they had made it back to his BMW 502, known affectionately as “the Cathedral,” Lara and Ivan couldn’t seem to break from the adrenaline that still coursed through them. Sitting close, Ivan’s hand drifted to hers, his touch warm and steady. They exchanged a quiet glance, their breaths slowing in unison as the world outside faded.

Without words, they drew each other in, their need now undeniable. The weight of the day melted into passion as their laughter faded, replaced by soft murmurs and deep sighs. Ivan’s touch was unhurried yet confident, his movements steady and unyielding. As their embrace deepened, their connection took on a fierce energy that felt both surprising and raw, leaving Lara nearly breathless.

The intimacy of the space within the BMW, illuminated by a single light, felt almost surreal, casting soft shadows across their forms as they moved together. Outside, the rally crew, already emboldened by drink and excitement, noticed the faint rocking of the car. Intrigued and amused, they began to cheer and raise their voices in playful support, their chants growing louder as the noise from within became unmistakable. For a moment, Lara and Ivan paid it no mind, lost in each other as the sounds of the outside world slipped away.

But soon, the intensity inside the BMW became palpable, and the group outside erupted in delighted laughter, egging them on as if it were part of the evening’s wild festivities. The BMW, nearly one and a half tons, rocked with their movements, shaking in rhythm with each powerful motion, almost as if caught up in the fervor of the moment. The cheers grew louder, reaching fever pitch, as some even clapped in sync with the cadence of the car.

Lara, though lost in the passion of the moment, felt a flicker of concern as she glanced at Ivan, wondering if the intensity might take its toll on him. But Ivan’s gaze met hers, his eyes sharp and assured, silencing her worry with a smile that held both warmth and determination. He was fully present, and his focus on her was unwavering, a testament to his strength and his devotion to their shared moment.

Outside, the rally crew continued their gleeful celebration. Some chanted, some laughed, and others raised their drinks, while the faint outlines of Ivan and Lara’s silhouettes were just visible through the curtained windows. The light within cast enough of a glow for the crowd to see hints of movement, and they responded with mock whistles and calls, fully absorbed in the unexpected spectacle.

As the car rocked with their shared rhythm, the sounds of their passion drifted outside, unmistakable and unfiltered. Cheers and laughter from the rally crew mingled with the night air, becoming a raucous, lively soundtrack to the intensity within the BMW. Each shared breath, each quiet murmur, and every moment of closeness felt magnified as Ivan and Lara allowed themselves to be completely present, letting the world around them dissolve.

Eventually, the fervor began to ebb, and the two fell into a comfortable silence, content in each other’s arms as the car finally settled. When they eventually emerged from the BMW, the rally crew greeted them with a mixture of applause and laughter, playfully celebrating them with raised drinks and exaggerated toasts. Ivan and Lara exchanged a sheepish, amused glance, their shared moment unexpectedly witnessed by an appreciative audience.

Later, they retreated from the lively crowd to the quiet edge of the lake, where the calm of the water offered them a more peaceful place to reflect and relax. In the quiet of the night, wrapped in the serene beauty of Lake Bled, they found a sense of stillness, a respite from the chaotic adventure that had brought them there.

Chapter 18

As dawn broke over Lake Bled, Ivan and Lara prepared to leave Slovenia behind and head back to the familiar grounds of Craft Manor in England. Their night by the lake had brought a sense of calm, but the pull of home—and the countless mysteries it held—beckoned them onward. With the BMW 502 packed and ready, they took one last glance at the serene lake, savoring the peace they’d found there.

The journey back to Britain was filled with quiet reflections, the hum of the BMW’s engine underscoring their silence. Lara sat beside Ivan, occasionally glancing his way, feeling a deep sense of trust and companionship. She knew that after everything they’d faced, there would always be new challenges, but it felt easier knowing she wasn’t alone in any of it.

As they crossed into the rolling green countryside of England, a sense of familiarity washed over them. Each mile felt like a return not just to Craft Manor but to a part of themselves they hadn’t seen in a long time.

When they finally arrived at the manor, the grand stone building loomed ahead, majestic and timeless. The ivy-clad walls and towering chimneys seemed almost to welcome them, embracing them with the weight of history. It was a place of comfort, yet shrouded in secrets waiting to be uncovered.

As they entered the manor, the scent of old wood and stone filled their senses, grounding them once more. Ivan turned to Lara, giving her a look that said they were ready for whatever lay ahead. Craft Manor was home, but it was also a place of endless adventure, a doorway to discoveries both thrilling and treacherous.

Together, they walked through the dim corridors, their footsteps echoing softly. There was something rejuvenating in being back, in knowing that even here, within the walls of Craft Manor, their next great adventure was already waiting to begin.