The "Soul" part of the mix hit first. It was a soulful, soaring vocal about freedom and the absurdity of borders, making everyone feel like they were part of something bigger than a broken-down van. Then, the "Body" part kicked in—a bassline so heavy it made the rearview mirror vibrate.

They passed a sleepy police checkpoint. The officer, usually ready to pull over any suspicious-looking van, caught a glimpse of the band jumping in their seats. Instead of reaching for his whistle, he found his foot tapping against the pavement. The energy was infectious; the "Ultra Mix" was leaking out of the windows and into the night air.

Suddenly, the fatigue in the van evaporated. Damir’s eyes snapped open. In the back, the brass section—who had been snoring in a pile of trombone cases—started clapping in unison.

"I feel like I could drive to Tokyo right now!" Vedran shouted over the roar of the saxophone.