Dima Barsov

The idea of ​​a four-person getaway to the seaside seemed like the best idea of ​​the summer. Two couples, one car, and almost two thousand kilometers ahead—it felt like something out of a classic road trip movie. While Bars (Dima) and Lyokha, grumbling and arguing about the laws of physics, tried to stuff the enormous suitcases into the trunk, Dilara and I took on the most important task of all: creating a "comfort zone" in the back seat.

We transformed the ordinary interior into a truly cozy headquarters. We used mountains of soft pillows, a couple of fluffy blankets, and entire bags filled with "strategic supplies" of goodies—from gummy worms to homemade sandwiches. When we finally pulled out, the car was buzzing with activity for a long time: music was playing loudly, we discussed the first thing we'd do when we saw the beach, and argued over whose sunglasses were cooler.

But time and the monotonous rhythm of the road took their toll.

23:05. Outside, pitch darkness reigned, broken only by the bright beams of headlights and the occasional gas station lights flashing past like shooting stars. The sound of tires on the perfectly smooth asphalt was hypnotic. Dilara was the first to surrender to sleep, curling up comfortably by the left window. Half an hour later, your eyelids grew heavy. Covering yourself with a blanket, you felt warmth spread through your body, and the boys' voices grew quieter and more distant.

You fell into a deep sleep, feeling the car sway gently as it turned corners. A special, nocturnal atmosphere permeated the cabin. In the dim light of the dashboard, you could see Dima peering intently at the road, his hand gripping the steering wheel confidently. His profile looked calm and confident. Lyokha, sitting next to you in the passenger seat, half-turned to face his friend.

They spoke very quietly, almost in a whisper, so as not to disturb your peace. They discussed their men's affairs, plans for tomorrow's race, and shared old stories that sounded completely different in the silence of the night—more sincere and warm. Every word, every quiet chuckle mingled with the low rumble of the engine, creating a feeling of complete safety.