All language subtitles for The.Grand.Tour.S05E02.WEBRip.x264-XEN0N

Hello, viewers. You join us
on a car ferry on the Baltic Sea,

just off the coast of Poland.

The reason we're here is because
we're about to embark on a road trip

that no one's ever
thought of doing.

The reason we're doing a road trip no
one has ever thought of doing before is...

in these times, it's very
difficult to do a road trip

that someone has
thought of doing before.

Yeah, if you think
about all the places

we've been to in recent years,

places that were stable
when we were there,

that aren't anymore.

Mozambique.

Syria. Iraq. Burma.

Ukraine. Russia.

We couldn't go
back to any of them.

Or, for different
reasons, Argentina.

No. Or Turkey.

- Why can't we go to Turkey?
- We're banned.

- Are we?
- Yes.

But it's not just the places
where we've been before,

that there is a problem.

No, absolutely right.

For this show, we thought
we'd drive across the Sahara.

We can't - too much terrorism.

Then we said: "Let's follow in the
footsteps of Lawrence of Arabia"

and go across the
Sinai." We can't.

Too much terrorism.

We wanted to go from
Bangladesh to Mount Everest.

Can't.

Why couldn't we do that?

- You have to go through India.
- Is that a problem?

- I'm banned from India.
- Yes, he is. He is.

And anyway, it's
because of all of that,

that we find ourselves here,
on a ferry, in the Baltic Sea.

Yes, because we
are about to undertake

a 1,400-mile drive

from - I've got the map here
actually, I'll fish this one out -

from Gdańsk which is right
up here on the Baltic, there,

and then we go all
the way down here,

to Bled, in Slovenia.

Nobody's done that
ever, Gdańsk to Bled.

Having decided to do a road
trip nobody's ever done before,

Mr Wilman chimed in

and said: "OK, but you've
got to do it in cars that nobody

has ever used to
do a road trip before."

And on that front,

- I'm the winner.
- You're so not.

I was first to disembark
from the ferry.

In this.

A pickup truck.

With a folding roof.

Yeah, I know.

A convertible pick-up truck
sounds like a bulletproof tea towel.

Why would you put
those two things together?

But that's what
this game is about.

Unique! Nobody's ever done this.

At this point,

Cruella de Vil arrived.

What...

This is the most inappropriate
road trip car ever made.

I give you the
Mitsuoka Le-Seyde.

It's the most

inappropriate thing ever made.
- No, you say that,

it's a work of genius.

Because what Mr Mitsuoka did

was he took the engine

from a 1990s Nissan Silvia, an
ordinary 2-Door Japanese saloon car

and the gearbox

and the interior
and all the electrics,

kept them as they were

and then fitted this
flamboyant body.

What Mr Mitsuoka
did, was he took

acid and this resulted.

- Mate, for one thing...
- Yeah?

- Wheels.
- Ah, yes.

The ones at the back are hiding

and you're steering
the car in front of you.

- Yes.
- Look at it.

That is a mechanical
change, I admit.

These wheels are 3 feet in
front of where they should be.

There are other things.
Look at the horns.

Check them out.
Want to hear them?

- Do they work?
- Oh, yes.

- I don't think I do.
- Ready?

They look like something
on top of a train in America.

- Ready?
- Yes.

That's it?

How many of these has he made?

- Several hundred.
- Too many.

I think he made
about 500 of them.

This was supposed to
look like a Mercedes SSK.

And yet it really doesn't.

- This looks more like a Mercedes SSK.
- I disagree with you.

That ship looks more
like a Mercedes SSK.

- This, look... There was a tremendous...
- Wrong.

- Can we move on to your car.
- Utter brilliance, this.

- An SSR, I know what it is.
- Yes, it is.

I've never driven
one, to be honest.

- I don't think anybody has.
- No, nobody did.

It was a convertible 2-seater
pickup truck. Electric roof.

- The roof goes...
- In there.

So it's not really a
very good pickup truck.

It's not very good as a pickup
truck, but it's very bad as a sportscar.

- Heavy?
- Yes, about 2 tons.

- It's...
- Yeah!

Absolutely hideous, isn't it?

No worries, I love it.

We then speculated

on what James might be using.

- He hates being called slow guy.
- I know.

I think he's going to be
in something a bit snappy.

Something like...

a Lamborghini LP550
Balboni special, 2-wheel drive,

but fully race prepped.

Exactly.

It then turned out

that we were absolutely wrong.

I have no clue what that is.

- How far away is he?
- That's a good question.

What is it?

Genuinely, I don't
know what that is.

I've no idea.

Have you just come
from the circus?

What is it, James?
It says Crosley on it.

Sorry, but it's a
very precious car

and it's raining. I've
got to put the roof up

but it goes up like an MX5,
it takes a couple of seconds.

You can do it on the move.

It's a 1947 Crosley
CC convertible.

Like me to tell you about the
history of the car? It's fascinating.

I've a feeling you're going to.

In the 1930s, there
was a man in America

- called Powel Crosley Junior.
- Mm-hmm.

He made his fortune out
of domestic appliances.

He was the first person to build
a fridge with shelves in the door.

Something we all
take for granted now.

He looked around and saw
that everyone was driving

massive cars and he thought

it was ridiculous, so he decided
to use some of his fortune

to make small cars.
He famously said:

"If you're crossing a river,
you don't need a battleship."

He decided he'd sell
his cars in his shops

alongside his domestic
appliances. That's why

this car

is only 4 feet wide.

It has to go through
the door of a shop.

Good thinking on
the part of Mr Crosley.

- He was a genius.
- However,

I have produced

larger and more
attractive bogeys than this.

What is the motor?

It's a 4-cylinder 724cc
engine, developing...

twenty-six and a
half horsepower.

- Hold on, how old's this?
- 1947.

It's 70-something years old,

- we've got to assume, 12...
- 14.

- 14.
- Max.

By now, a lot of those
horses will have died.

Did you hear the words

1,400-mile road trip?

Yeah.

If you're lucky,
you've got 14hp.

What did you pay?

There's a bit of
a story about that.

It was on a well-known
car auction website

and I looked at it. It
finished that evening

and bidding was at 400
pounds, so I bid 450 pounds,

then I went off
and got some wine,

and came back later
and it went up a bit

- and it was...
- What did you pay?

11,000 pounds.

11,000 pounds for that?

- I bought it when I was drunk.
- You...

I'll grant you that.

- Fair point.
- So, hold on,

I got my entire
Mitsuoka Le-Seyde

for only 11,500.

That is a proper car.

Who pays 11,500
grand for an old Nissan

- in a bad frock?
- How much was this?

Yes, absolutely.
Exactly my point.

How much?

It was 18,500 pounds.

What?

I've always wanted one.

- It's a convertible pickup truck.
- I know.

It's like a speed hump on a
runway. It's completely useless.

- That's...
- Come on, let's get going.

Ooh!

You don't suppose...

- I do suppose, yes.
- Mr Wilman

is being funny.
- I've got to be honest,

that's more inappropriate
than any of our cars.

That's designed to
do a quarter of a mile.

That's a designer
hot rod, isn't it?

- Look what it says.
- Look.

That...

That is doom, isn't
it? That is the end.

Would you want to drive a
car that says "Titties 'n' beer"

- on the side?
- I really wouldn't.

Now praying to God

that our own cars wouldn't
let us down, we headed

for the port exit and the
start of our mammoth journey.

Right. A 1,400-mile
journey beginning now

from Gdańsk to Bled.

I've had a crash.

We've only done 20 feet.

When we were in Scandinavia,

you did at least a
day before you had

- an accident.
- Hang on.

Is this a bit of your car?

No, that's not from the car.

- What is this?
- You've broken his barrier.

- You smashed his barrier.
- You've broken his barrier.

- "Polizei"?
- Call the police?

Naturally, we thought it best to
scarper before the 5-0 arrived.

- It's hot.
- But before we could do that,

James insisted on starting
his windscreen wipers.

Are you ready?

What about that one?

It's like a face covered
with a snare drum.

With James now able to
see where he was going,

we left the second
biggest Baltic port

and headed for Gdańsk itself,

famous throughout the world

as the birthplace of Lech
Walesa's Solidarity movement,

a movement that helped
bring down communism

and end the Cold War.

Here, events happened which
reverberated throughout the communist world

and particularly

in Eastern Europe.

Having seen the news
footage from that period,

we assumed the city centre
would be all in black and white.

And a bit like Hull.

But by the time we got
there, the sun had come out

and it wasn't like that at all.

That is amazing.

That is a very pretty town.

Morning, everybody.
Look at this.

If I'd done this in a Nissan Silvia,
nobody would be paying any attention.

But because it's got bits
of Lliberace's bathroom

stuck on it, everyone's
taking its picture

and is very happy.

People are smiling,

they're looking.

There is no doubt
we are bringing joy.

You know when the
fairground comes to your town,

you don't moan, do you?
All your bikes get stolen,

but other than that it's
good news. It's bright, it's fun.

Having helped

our colleague through
an extremely narrow gap...

I reckon you're OK.
You're alright. To me.

You're alright. Don't
get carried away.

Very funny. Keep it up.

Go on. You're going to do it.

He did it! Well done!

We headed out of town...

and on to the motorway.

That is the determined
sound of a Nissan 4 Pot.

And this was the even
more determined sound

of the 75-year-old Crosley.

Holy shit, that's terrible.

James May, are you flat out?

Yes. 38 mph.

Oh!

Oh my God!

Errrr...

39...

Errrr...

39.

Oh, God, massive
lorry up my chuff.

No!

Argh!

Holy shit!

God, strewth,

that nearly rolled over.

Seeing that our colleague
was clearly in peril,

we decided to leave him behind.

Bye, James.

Right, 1,400 miles to
go, across 4 countries.

We're going to be
behind what used to be

the Iron Curtain...

and what might still be the
Iron Curtain by the time we finish.

Our first stop-off was at a racetrack
a couple of hundred miles away

near the city of Poznan,

which meant we
had plenty of time

to discuss our cars.

Jeremy, a question
whilst we cruise.

Mm-hmm?

That thing's supposed to
mimic the Mercedes SSK, yeah?

Yeah.

Wasn't a Mr A. Hitler a
fan of a Mercedes SSK?

No, because the SSK was from the
early 30s when Hitler was a corporal

and corporals couldn't
have afforded an SSK.

It doesn't mean
he wasn't a fan of it.

So you're driving a
plastic, unconvincing replica

of a car Hitler loved.

No.

I'm just not.

Can you imagine what
it's like in the Crosley?

Do you know, I don't
think I actually can.

Brace for slipstream.

Arghh!

This is madness.

724cc. Where did he
come up with that idea?

What was wrong with
- I don't know - 1 litre?

Oh Jeez!

Many miles ahead,
we'd left the motorway

and were driving through
what the tour guides say

is Poland's second biggest wood.

Think about it,
Hammond, in one day,

we've seen

Gdańsk, the second busiest
port in the Baltic and now

we're in Poland's
second biggest wood.

I know. It's amazing. I
love second biggest or best.

Because first is easy,
just make it bigger or better,

but second,

you can't be bigger than first,
you've got to be better than third.

It requires precision.

It's best.

Having eventually
emerged from the trees,

we arrived at the
Poznan racetrack.

Mr Wilman has booked us in to take
part in some local racing, which is great

because we're like ambassadors.
This is a cultural exchange.

Without the culture or
anything to exchange.

It was an impressive circuit.

With all mod cons.

But the real treat

was waiting for us in the pits.

- I know what these are.
- Race cars?

They're Formula Easter.

- Just behind the Iron Curtain.
- Exactly.

This is basically the Soviet
Union's answer to Formula 1.

Running throughout
the 70s and 80s,

when the Iron Curtain
was very firmly drawn,

Formula Easter saw teams
from Soviet bloc countries

race against each other.

With a lot of
passion and bravery,

but very few resources.

Power came from tuned
up 1.3 litre Lada engines.

The suspension from
East German minivans.

The steering rack
started life in Trabants.

The set of tyres had
to last a whole season.

The Polish team was so hard up

that motor sport
fan and fellow Pole

Pope John Paul II had
to buy their helmets.

But despite this make-do
and mend handicap,

Formula Easter provided an
exciting distraction for people

who'd spent all week
queueing for a loaf of bread.

I've always wanted
to see these cars.

I've heard about them,
you read about them.

All they had was
a fuzzy photograph

taken in 1968,

at a European racetrack,

of a European racing
car. A bit like that.

- "I want one of those."
- Yeah, "I want one of those,

but I've only got
a Lada engine."

It's great what human
ingenuity can achieve, isn't it?

Determination.

I know what they did for shoes.

- You know boxing shoes?
- Yeah.

They wore those.

They're a bit like racing shoes.

- They're really pretty cars.
- They are so pretty.

That is fantastic.

And safe.

Look how the windscreen's
held on this one.

- That is authentic.
- Taped in place.

That's not coming off, unless
it rains and then it's coming off.

Meanwhile...

many miles back, I too was in
Poland's second biggest wood,

having left behind

the horror of the motorway.

Oh... This is so much nicer.

I've got to admit, there were
a few times on the motorway

when I looked at "Titties
'n' Beer" in the mirror

and I thought: "Mmm."

Anyway, now we're on
this road, a pleasant road,

I'm going to forget "Titties 'n'
Beer", concentrate on the Crosley.

The ugly puppy, the runt of the litter
that you should take home, remember.

However, just a mile later...

There's a man in a
BMW trying to get past.

I'll try and make him
some space. Jesus!

Get off.

Go on.

Go past.

Oh no, I'm going to
cut out. I have. It's died.

Right.

Ah.

Back at the circuit,

Hammond and I had now chosen

which cars we'd be
driving in the race.

Oh, yes.

Ah!

That is it.

My arse is that
far out of the seat.

Oh dear.

- Is there a bigger one?
- No.

This is the... So
this is the biggest?

I won't be able to do it.

- You'll miss out on our day out.
- What do you want me to do?

Be less fat.

It's quite easy.

- Obesity is an illness.
- It's a big fat illness.

A big fat heavy illness.

It's frustrating, you're ready
to do things. You're primed.

You can't do them
because you're so fat.

I'm sorry. You're quite sad.

- I am.
- You're going to miss out.

You are being
quite funny, but...

Oh God!

I can't get out.

Ah.

Oh dear.

The bodywork from you.

Can you help me get out?

They'll have to dismantle
the car around him!

They're going to have to
dismantle the car around you

to get you out.

They're peeling it off
him like a diving suit.

It would have been easier
to paint a racecar on him

and then wipe it off.

Thank you.

They've popped your dignity in the
workshop, you can go and pick it up.

While Hammond
and his competitors

got ready for qualifying,

I realised there was
something useful I could do.

I've decided to appoint
myself as team manager.

- Have you?
- Yeah, I'm Toto Wolff.

The only thing

- that is slightly worrying me...
- What?

James May. Qualifying is
in 2 minutes. Is it 2 minutes?

2 minutes.

James May is still not here.

He needs to get a wriggle on
or he won't be here for qualifying.

That's the rules, mate.

Be here on time
and don't be too fat.

As it happened,
the Crosley was now

up and running.

And I was not far

from the circuit.

Perfect gear change.

Oh, no. No, no, don't do it.

Back at the track,

qualifying had now begun.

Hey, hey!

He's on the outside.

As team manager, it was my job

to record my driver's lap times.

Here he comes.

2.22. Oh, shit!

Wait. How do I...

How do I make the stopwatch?

How do... if you stop it,

How do... I needed
another stopwatch.

Before I got the
chance to tell Hammond

that I had no
meaningful lap times,

James arrived.

Too late for qualifying, but still
keen to have some kind of role.

So, as team boss,
I gave him one.

They haven't got a medical car.

So if you can turn your
car into an ambulance...

Wouldn't it make more sense to
turn yours into the medical car?

Thought about that.
Mine's only got 2 seats,

couldn't get a stretcher
in it. Could get it in yours.

- Alright.
- If you do that, it'd be brilliant.

Alright.

Happily, someone
who wasn't an ape

had been keeping lap times

and it turned out
that I'd qualified

in sixth place.

This is an amazing treat on our road
trip that no one's ever thought of doing.

- Look who's here.
- Hello, mate.

Have you done the car?

- You missed qualifying.
- I know.

It's a shame,
it's brilliant fun.

I was looking forward to a race.

Have fun.

- I will.
- Could have been me.

Yeah, I know. You're missing it.

Because you're too fat.

He said he was too tall.

As the drivers
prepared for the off,

I gave Hammond some
final advice on strategy.

Thank you so much.

There he is!

He overtook someone.

Concentrate,
Hammond. Don't crash.

Just have your own race.

I'll see if I can keep
hold of fourth place.

Oh!

Oh no. Oh no.

What if he's in third or fifth
next time he comes round?

- That's a good point.
- Do I put a question mark then?

Come on. Keep going.

I'm a proper racing driver.

This is a fast one.

- Here he comes.
- Is that him?

Oh shit!

I reckon I could
do that one in 4.

Hammond continued
on his merry way,

completely unaware
that his leaking car

had turned the track
into a skating rink.

Oh! Somebody's gone off.

Somebody else has gone off.

Sadly, his team boss was making
a bit of a meal of warning him.

- Why "some kind of"?
- We don't know what it is.

Just put "fluid".

Oh, bollocks.

- Is that him?
- No.

Is that a red light?

Hammond's off. Hammond's off.

What?

- Hammond's off.
- Shit.

Oh God.

Ahhh!

I'm alright. I hurt my leg,

I do need someone
to come and get me.

James is on his way.

Who?

James. James is on his way.

Oh, come on.

Hang on.

Doesn't like hot starting.

There we go.

- Hang in there, Hammond.
- Yes, I'm hanging in.

You're not dead.

No. In fact, I've got better.

Sadly, Hammond's spillage
had caused so much carnage

that the rest of the
racing was cancelled.

So, for the second time

since we arrived in
Poland, we scarpered.

But not before I
modified my car slightly.

I've painted my wheels green

to make them more racy,
a bit more flamboyant.

Did it need increased
flamboyance, your car?

I'm just enjoying my reflection
in your chrome wheels.

You're enjoying looking at that?

It looks like a disaster
with a Lego set.

Something I'd leave on the
sitting room carpet when I was 8.

It was now late in the day.

We wanted to stop off and see
Jesus before going to our hotel,

90 miles away.

That wasn't going to be

much of a problem for Richard

with his 6-litre V8,

or me.

James though...

It's June 21, the longest day,

and for James May, it's going

to feel like it.

Situation report.

The engine cooling
temperature is rising.

It's not in the danger zone
yet, but it's getting there.

Oh God, it's truck time. No!

Arghhh!

Holy shit!

Untroubled by any issues at all,

we were now arriving
in Jesus' garden.

God, it's enormous.

Jesus!

Does it do anything
if you put 50p in?

I'll tell you what's funny.

I was just googling him.

He's the second tallest
Jesus in the world.

- Brilliant.
- One in Indonesia is taller.

That must be depressing.
Did this one go up first?

It must have done. You wouldn't
build the second biggest one.

You wouldn't say... I
don't know, we're in Poland.

We've been in the second biggest
wood, the second busiest port.

- Yep.
- I tell you what else I found.

Until very recently, he had a
cell tower on top of his head.

- And then there were some complaints.
- Why?

Because people were watching strong
pornography beamed to their phones

from Jesus' head.

Yeah.

That was a mistake, putting
the internet on Jesus' head.

It's not dignified.

Also, there's a door in
Jesus. Who knew that?

- Look.
- Is that Jesus' back door?

The next time
somebody surprises me

and I say: "Christ back door!"

- That's what you're talking...
- That's what I'm talking about.

This is proper road trip stuff.
This is what you do on a road trip.

It's exactly what
you do on a road trip.

Unless, that is, you're
in a 75-year-old Crosley.

With an overheating engine.

This is Richard Hammond's
territory. He likes all this old stuff

from before the
war and just after

and says: "It's one of only
three." I'm not surprised!

I suspect the
radiator's blocked.

Wow!

There's quite a lot of brownness
coming out if you look underneath.

I was looking forward
to seeing that big Jesus.

But all I could do
now was concentrate

on getting to the hotel before I
needed to use my antique headlamps.

Another 62 miles to go.

I'm getting appalling cramp
in this leg, all the way up here.

My arse is completely numb.

God, let it end!

When I finally reached
the overnight halt,

I was so shattered, I
went straight to bed.

- He's gone to bed.
- Yes.

Us two, however, having enjoyed

a much less stressful afternoon,

still had the energy
to borrow some locals

and engage in a bit
of booze-fueled japery.

Everybody get what
you can get to lift.

- Grab and lift it.
- Anything you can.

Three, two... Bloody
hell, that wasn't difficult.

- That way.
- Other way.

Back to there.

My back! Jesus!

- Ow, my back. And my fingers.
- We should...

This could sound like a
porn film if we weren't careful.

The next morning,
James was displeased

to find his car was tucked hard
against the wall in the hotel's restaurant.

Very funny, bell ends.

OK.

Ow!

Jesus.

This delay meant he was
miles behind Richard and me.

Here's the plan for today.

Stop off at Stalag Luft III, where
The Great Escape happened.

A spot of lunch and then
a long drive to Krakow.

Ever since we
decided to do this trip,

months ago, James May
has been beside himself

with excitement about
visiting Stalag Luft III.

He's even wearing a
Great Escape T-shirt.

But now, at least
he was on his way.

Sorry.

Bollocks.

And feeling very miserable.

It wasn't a terrible
dream, I really am driving

a Crosley across Eastern Europe.

I'm already in top gear,
this is it for an hour.

On the plus side, I wasn't
on the terrifying motorway.

On the minus side,

everyone else wished I was.

I'm doing my best.

He's going for it.
You must be mad.

No! Ah!

He's going.

There he goes.

There's another one.

They're both going. Oh, my God!

Jeez!

I'm now responsible.

Far ahead, I too was
having a bit of a drama.

- Oh, Christ, that's not a wasp.
- What the hell is that?

It's absolutely gigantic.

Get out! Get out!

I can see it from
here. It's enormous!

It's incredibly big.

Get out.

After ejecting the
poisonous hand glider,

I noticed that my car
had a comfort feature

I somehow missed.

I've got an overdrive button!

Amazing news from
the Le-Seyde, Hammond.

I've got overdrive.

Oh yeah!

Welcome to overdrive.

Overdrive!

In case you're
wondering, overdrive

reduces the noise effectively
when you're on a motorway.

It's kind of like another gear.

So I'm driving along now

at 60 mph

3 and a bit thousand rpm.

I engage overdrive and
we drop to 2,400 rpm.

It just makes it more
economical and quieter.

That's Stalag Luft III.

One kilometre.

James is going to be genuinely
heartbroken if he misses this.

Oh, God, you...

It's completely died.

What a piece of old crap.

To get out of everyone's
way, I had to push

the Crosley into the
roadworks up ahead.

Even though I was speaking to
them in Italian for some reason...

- Kaput?
- Si.

They lent me a multi-metre

so that I could take
a battery reading.

Right.

Battery's obviously
completely dead.

I don't know about
the alternator output.

What a pile of shit.

As James struggled

with his drunken
late-night purchase,

we were wandering
around the actual site

where, in World
War II, 80 prisoners

dug a 110-metre escape tunnel

from under the stove

in one of the huts.

It's a story that
was immortalised

in one of the greatest
films ever made.

The Great Escape.

- See you in Piccadilly.
- Scott's bar.

Right.

Oh!

That's not the one is it?

- That stove there?
- It probably is.

Yes, look, look, look.

That's where the
tunnel went down

and then over to the trees.

And actual people actually
dug a tunnel out of here.

- Charles Bronson.
- No, I mean...

- Gordon Jackson.
- No, real... they're actors, Jeremy.

Oh! Look at this.

These are the trollies
for moving stuff along.

Look, that's the actual thing
that Charles Bronson got stuck on.

That wasn't... That was... OK.

Here we go, look.

There's some pictures
of the actual people.

James Garner, Steve McQueen,

- Donald Pleasance.
- No, again, this is from...

Look, that's a real photograph
taken with Dickie Attenborough.

We're going to have to sort out
the blurring of fact and fiction there.

A lot of what was told
in the movie happened

- but that wasn't it happening.
- Look!

- Gordon Jackson and Dickie Attenborough.
- They didn't film it on the day.

I thought it best to
take Jeremy outside,

where we found the monument
that marked the route of Harry,

the codename given
to the escape tunnel.

- Bloody hell, it's miles!
- Yeah.

Imagine crawling under here in a
homemade tunnel. And this is sand.

Mmh.

At any moment...

Death. In one form or another.

Incredible.

We were then joined by a guide.

How deep was Harry?

It was actually
between 8 and 9 metres,

- which is 30 feet.
- Metres?

9 metres, which is actually
roughly the size of the tree.

Yeah!

- That's 30 feet.
- Why that deep?

There was a reason.

The camp was called
an escape-proof camp,

which means the Germans put
underground microphones around the camp

to detect any kind of tunnel.

- So they had to go deeper than those.
- Deeper than the microphones.

I'm staggered. I cannot believe

how long it is and I can't
believe how deep it was.

We then started wondering

why they dug it
because the prison camp

was actually more
like a holiday camp.

- A swimming pool?
- Yep. That's the one.

- No way I'd escape!
- No, me neither.

- There was a proper hockey ring here.
- What?

What?

There was a huge sports
field right behind those trees.

And during the winter,
they built a huge hockey ring.

They had a sports
pitch, a swimming pool...

- A library.
- A library.

- A theatre.
- What?

A theatre.

Are you sure it wasn't
people trying to tunnel in?

Yeah.

The guide showed us
what he meant by a theatre.

- Oh my God!
- No!

350 seats, orchestra,
pits, stage, backstage...

- Was it built as a theatre?
- Built as a theatre.

I thought you meant it would be a
shed that they used as a theatre.

Like It Ain't Half Hot,
Mum. God all bloody mighty!

If I'd been made
to fight in the war,

I'd have got myself captured.

You know what they say,
"We don't care how comfortable

camp will be,
we'll still escape."

- It was their duty, they had to escape.
- They did.

Having said our goodbyes...

Absolutely fascinating.
Thank you for filling in the gaps.

- My pleasure.
- It was really good.

We got back on the move.

That was incredible.

That was genuinely top 10 most
interesting things I've ever seen,

places I've ever been.

It turns out road trips no one
has ever thought of doing before

are worth having a go at,
once you've thought of them.

And chosen the right
car - which I have.

Ahhh!

Having missed the
prisoner of war camp,

I had at least got the
Crosley going again.

I was beginning to
wonder why I bothered.

I did 300 miles yesterday.

The schedule for today
calls for another 300 miles.

There's 1,100 miles still to go.

4 times as far nearly
as I've gone already,

with this noise. I
don't think I can do it.

Oh, God!

Up ahead,

over a simple Polish lunch,

Jeremy and I discussed

just how much James
was messing up the trip.

You missed the Jesus,
you missed the prison camp,

you missed breakfast.
He's missed lunch.

He's going to miss
all the good bits.

We haven't got somebody to talk
to about because he wasn't part of it.

He can't join in with our
conversation. That's no fun.

With Krakow more
than 200 miles away,

we couldn't wait for James.

So we pressed on.

Resuming once more our new
favorite topic of conversation.

Which Jag had an overdrive?

You could probably
get one in a MK2 I think.

I know Triumph did because
the Dolly Sprint had an overdrive.

Good afternoon.

What?

What?

James May, that's just cheating.

You can't just get in the backup
car and tow your own car on a trailer.

Well, if you have
a racehorse, say,

you don't ride it to Aintree,
you put it in a horsebox.

If you have a valuable
classic racing car, you take it

to the racetrack on a trailer.

That's what I'm doing. I'm taking
my valuable car to the next event.

I don't want to
be rude, old chap,

but you're making a
complete hash of this.

The thing I'm
most interested in is

how bad must the Crosley
have been for you to get into a car

with "Titties 'n' Beer"
written on the side of it?

Well, it's a very good point and I
did give it a great deal of thought.

I've decided I can deal with it.

After a long drive, we
eventually arrived in Krakow.

Which it turns out is one
of Europe's absolute gems.

One of the most cultured
places probably in the world.

Yeah.

I wouldn't want to arrive here in
a car that says "Titties 'n' Beer".

That's for sure.

Art, music, architecture,
titties and beer.

I'm aware of all
this, thank you.

Please don't let that
woman look round.

I'll pretend I'm scratching my
face because I'm in deep thought.

We've always had
quite a few fans

in Poland.

I was hoping that our
popularity had faded.

Sadly however...

Hello.

Mercifully, we were soon able

to leave the cars
because Jeremy was keen

to visit what he said
was the best thing

in the world.

- Hello. Can we have 3 tickets?
- Yes.

There we are. Lovely.

I've never been to a
waxworks museum.

And what a way it was for
Hammond to pop his waxwork cherry.

Oh, there's a...

James, that's
really cruel. Stop it.

The people who run the
place will be bloody hurt.

- OK, it's not funny.
- No, it's not.

He is pushing out a whopper.

He is definitely shifting

a big sturdy breakfast.

Good lord!

I didn't know you could stand...

"I'd like ein Volk... Oh, I'm
sorry, I've fallen over backwards."

Why is he leaning...

I've never seen him
with his tie like that.

He was very smartly
dressed as a general rule.

I think this has been
willfully treated poorly.

I'm seeing brilliant
things in Poland.

- What the bloody hell is that?
- Good Lord!

We know what it is because we've
got the helpful symbol on the wall.

Having seen all the pop icons,

we moved into what we
assumed was a motoring area.

Is it you?

No, it's not.

It is, it's you.

- It's Sylvester Stallone.
- I thought it was you.

Guess who it is.

Erm...

George Lazen... I don't know.

Is it, bollocks!

Who the hell's that?

- Is that Keira Knightley?
- I think it is.

That's not even an
approximation of Keira.

I would love to see Keira
Knightley standing next to that.

I'd like to see the real Keira
Knightley walking around Krakow.

Nobody would ask for her autograph.
They'd say: "That's not Keira Knightley.

It looks nothing like her."

After what may or not may
have been the Doctor Who zone,

we entered an area
of great mystery.

Spooky woods.

Some of the decoration
is tremendous.

Everything is good,
apart from the waxworks.

James May!

Ryan Reynolds?

- That's Paul Walker.
- Oh.

In a room

containing what was
probably Elvis Presley...

Oh, for heaven's sake!

Nigel Mansell. It
isn't though, is it?

His mustache matches
his eyebrows. It is.

Why have Nigel Mansell?

Why not Lewis Hamilton?

The reference is
a bit out of date.

- Bless him, but...
- Lando Norris.

George Russell.

I'm really annoyed about this.

It isn't that it's not very
good, it's the wrong subject.

I then had a brainwave.

I'm going to steal it.

If we take him away,
they'll be forced to replace it.

With Lewis Hamilton.

Let me put it this way.

We've got many miles to get to
Slovenia and you're driving a terrible car.

- If we had this with us...
- Yeah?

It'd cheer us up.

- It would cheer us up.
- Every time you're feeling low,

sometimes Titties 'n' Beer
was being a bit badly behaved,

you'd just have to look
in your rear wing mirror

and there in my
passenger seat...

Is someone who looks
a bit like Nigel Mansell.

Right.

- We're off to...
- No, wait.

- If we all...
- He's doing the talk.

Do the Birmingham accent.
You're from Birmingham.

"I've had enough of this.
Let's have a drive outside."

Alright, Nigel,
we'll take you out.

"Thanks for bringing
me with you, lads."

I really enjoyed the
look around the museum.

Just what I wanted to see.

That one in London, it's
not as good as this, is it?

I'm doing some racing this
afternoon. I'm dressed and ready.

Mind my 'ead on this beam.
Oh, bugger, I knocked it.

"I'll see you later,
Paul Walker, mate."

Keep going!

"Oh, I hate Harry Potter."

Absolute bollocks.

"Oh, look, lads, wait
for us, I'm coming."

- Guys.
- We can get out this way.

Come, come.

"That, lads, was an amazing visit.
Thanks for bringing us with yer."

- Oh.
- Oh.

This is probably
somebody's house.

It's possible. They
may be a bit surprised

to find us three and
Nigel Mansell in it.

That night, we stayed in Krakow,

which meant I had time
to exact some revenge

on my colleagues

for putting my
car in a restaurant.

Ready? OK.

- Lovely.
- Where are we going?

Across the road.
Across the road.

Lovely. Well done. Thank you.

Perfect.

Through the garden.

The next morning, I
retrieved the Crosley

from where Hammond and
Clarkson had left it this time...

and then waited for their
reaction to what I'd done.

How am I going
to drive like this?

What's? Oh!

You think you've got problems?

Morning.

I know, yes. Morning. Morning.

Is that coming from your car?

I think it's when I brake.

Yes, it's the brake bell.

A good safety feature.

James May!

You wired my horn
into my indicator,

you bastard!

Oh, brilliant!

When I put my foot
down, I hear bagpipes.

Like my candelabras, Nigel?

"I like them, I've a
couple in me bathroom."

Soon, we were on the motorway,

heading for our next country,

Slovakia.

Straight away, I
noticed two things.

One: Nigel Mansell's
face was starting to melt.

Oh, dear.

And two...

James, you've
forgotten your Crosley.

It's not on the back of
your Titties 'n' Beer car.

Exactly.

I've attached the
trailer to the crew van.

What?

The combination of the
hot rod and that long trailer

with the bouncy little
car on is absolutely lethal.

I'm driving the back-up car.

The back-up car is
here for this eventuality.

The back-up car
is if your original car

explodes. It's not
because you don't like it.

You can't rewrite the rules
as you go along, to suit you.

Well, I have, as it happens.

To be honest, even
without a trailer attached,

my hot rod experience
was not improving.

Where shall I start?

The throttle pedal is
actually buried in the door,

so I have to drive it
without my right shoe on.

But the pedal is razor sharp
and it's digging into my foot.

It's now going numb.

It's got a shirt button
for its steering wheel.

It pulls violently to
the right under braking.

It's baking hot, it's noisy

and it's not even
a proper hot rod.

It's got a crappy, old
straight 6 Jag engine.

It's supposed to
have a big V8 motor.

Still, unlike the Crosley,

at least it wasn't
breaking down all the time.

Oh, bollocks.

We need to stop.

What?

It's steam. It's hot, hot, hot.

It smells hot.

There you go.

- You know this engine.
- I know this engine very well.

They cook the head.

- James?
- Yes?

You've bollocked the job.

It's not over. Let's just
have a bit of a think about it.

I've had a bit of a think.

What I'm thinking is that we've got
a good restaurant booked for lunch.

Yeah.

We're not going to get there if we stand
here looking at this while it cools down.

With that decided...

- Good luck and everything.
- Good luck.

Hammond and I
got back on the road.

I honestly don't know
what happens now.

Nobody's ever broken
the back-up car before.

I think we should get
Nigel Mansell to drive it.

What do you think, Nigel?

"I like it actually.

I think it's quite funny
having Titties 'n' Beer

written on the side of a
Ford with a Jag engine in it.

Oh!"

Disengaging overdrive.

Oh God!

Richard, Nigel and I waved
a fond farewell to Poland

and crossed over the
border into Slovakia.

Oh!

A break for a wee. There it is.

Jesus! This is a piece of junk.

Hello.

God, it's a woman.

Thank you so much.
I'm sorry about the car.

I'm either in an offensive hot rod
with Titties 'n' Beer written on the side

or I'm holding everybody
up in the Crosley.

I've never screwed up a
film shoot like I have this one.

Half a country away,

Richard and I were starting
to feel sorry for James.

So, like the good
friends we are,

we hatched a plan
to cheer him up.

Here he comes.

He's got no bonnet.
That's his cooling solution.

- He's suffered.
- I think he has.

- May.
- Hello.

Listen, we can
see that you're hot

and bothered and you've
missed another lunch...

- Yeah.
- But don't worry, because...

we've organised a treat for you.

- Some old aeroplanes to look at.
- Yes.

Look at that. A MIG.

Sus, Hind helicopters.

- That's not the treat though.
- No, it's better.

- Much better.
- Better than any of these.

We've arranged a drag
race for your Crosley.

- Sorry, is it a joke?
- No.

It will become clear when
you meet the competitors.

- Follow us.
- See who you're up against.

James, drag race rival number 1.

A Tatra tipper truck.

Good lorry this. But
heavy. 18 and a half tons.

Rival number 2: a JCB tractor.

- This is 12 and a half tons.
- Power?

Pfff...

It's irrelevant, it's the weight and
it's not geared for acceleration.

It's a tractor. Then we have
this, a Velorex 3-wheeler.

Built in the early 60s in what was then
the Soviet Union, for disabled people.

- 400hp.
- No, 12.

And then,

your final rival
in this drag race.

You're racing a man.

He's called Martin.

Could you look cheerful
about what we've done?

This'll put a spring
back in your step.

This is a drag race that
you can win in your Crosley.

I'm excited.

He's lucky to have
friends like us.

Trzy, dwa, jeden!

- They're off.
- They're off.

Why am I doing this?

The vehicle for disabled
people made in the Soviet Union

in the early 60s
is taking the lead.

Come on.

The JCB is getting well away.

Look at the man!

Jesus, come on
car, you can do it.

Here comes the 3-wheeler.

Can James beat the man?

Come on.

You bastard!

- No, he cannot.
- No, he hasn't.

That's not the confidence
boost we wanted it to be.

Get your face right.

Mate.

That's a bit rude.

He didn't look as happy
as we were hoping.

- It didn't put a spring in his step.
- No.

That night, to thank them

for the drag race,
I did more things

to their cars,

which became apparent
first thing the next morning.

Som impotentný.

Som impotentný.

- What?
- Som impotentný.

- Som impotentný.
- Is it coming from me?

Look at his face.

- James?
- What's that saying?

That's for you to find out.

Hang on, Hammond.
Is anyone Slovakian?

- Yeah.
- Can we borrow you?

Sure.

- This chap's Slovakian.
- Hello? What is this saying?

Som impotentný.

Som impotentný.

Oh. I'm impotent.

- Important?
- "Impotent." Let me...

Let me translate it.

- Impotent!
- Yes.

- What?
- "I'm impotent."

James May, you are sick!

Still, it could be worse.

Got to be honest,

I'm not going to tell James
May, but I quite like his work.

It gives a good Cruella vibe.

We could have pressed
on south at this point,

but we decided

to hang around in Slovakia
for a little while longer,

for a very good reason.

Today, the Audi Q7
is made in Slovakia.

So is the Q8.

So is the VW Touareg,
the Porsche Cayenne,

the Porsche Cayenne coupé,

the Land Rover Defender,
the Land Rover Discovery,

the Peugeot 208 and the VW Up.

They make more cars per
head of population in Slovakia

than any other
country in the world.

Car-making has always been in
the blood in this part of Europe.

In pre-Soviet times,

Tatra were engineering demi-gods

and they were even
better at aerodynamics.

Even under the
stranglehold of communism,

Skoda turned out
handsome sportscars

and rally weapons that
could meet and beat

their well-funded
rivals from the west.

And that was just the
stuff we knew about.

In 1957, when communism
in Czechoslovakia

was at its sootiest and
most monochromatic,

a small band of
engineers at Skoda,

only about half a dozen of them,

decided to build a car
that could race at Le Mans.

And this is it.

Although it was designed
as a racing machine,

it was so tightly packaged that
the bonnet had a little dimple

to accommodate the
offset cylinder head.

It is, nevertheless, a
thing of exquisite beauty.

It may only have

1100cc, and it may
only produce 91hp,

but the whole car
only weighs 580 kilos.

And at a top speed of 124 mph,

in a car that's no
bigger than my bath.

It revs to 8,500 rpm.

It even handles properly.

The engine is at the front,

but the gearbox is at the back.

Perfect weight distribution.

Well, it did before I got in.
That's changed everything a bit.

I keep thinking the steering
wheel is going to snap.

Look.

That doesn't fill me with
confidence, but we'll gloss over it.

This is the very
definition of a sports car.

This is what Ferrari
should be making today

and Maserati and Alfa
Romeo. Very small,

very light, very fast.
An agile, frantic little car.

I love it. I absolutely love it.

Sadly, by the time
the car was finished,

the Cold War had
become so frigid

that it never went to Le Mans.

Only 2 were ever built.

At this point, I was going to let
Captain Miserable have a go in it.

But then I realised
that actually

he was better suited to this.

Built by another
Czech carmaker, Praga,

it's called the Bohema.

It weighs less than a
ton, so it's race-car light

and it's propelled by
a Nissan GT-R engine

uprated to produce 720hp.

That means it will reach 190 mph

and go from 0 to 60

in less than 3 seconds.

This thing has got James
May written all over it.

Holy crap!

Ah!

Oh my God!

It has incredible steering. It
doesn't have a wheel, it has a yoke.

Even on a fairly tight circuit,

I never need to move my hand

to that quarter to 3 position.

It obviously has
enormous acceleration.

They haven't gone for top speed,

but low weight and agility.

It definitely has that.

It's wonderful. Just wonderful.

A million quid. A
million of your pounds.

It does look good though.

It's a difficult path to tread.
It's gotta look childish and silly...

- Yes.
- It is.

But it looks
accomplished and finished.

The Czechs were always
good at this sort of thing.

They just had to put up
with a slight interruption:

WW2, getting bombed and then
having to live under the Soviets.

- What's that?
- Is that the door?

- That is the door.
- It's a hatch.

You're right.

I must say this is an impressive
piece of engineering from the Czechs,

but the Slovakians have
now gone one better.

- It's flying.
- It is.

I've never actually seen that.

This is the AirCar.
The first flying car ever

to fly between 2 airports
rather than just landing

immediately back
where it started.

It can whizz through the
air 8,000 feet up at 120 mph

and its maker, Stefan Klein,

reckons he will be able
to put it on sale in a year.

Yes!

Voice of experienced cameraman.

Wow!

That car has landed.

Very rarely am I lost for
words, but I'm lost for words.

Honestly, they've always
said ever since we were kids:

"There'll be flying cars
one day." No, there won't!

The important thing to point
out is that's not just a flying car,

it did drive here.

- It arrived by road.
- Yes!

- It drove down the motorway.
- And then became an aeroplane.

- "I wasn't impressed."
- "I don't agree with a flying car."

- "I don't like it all."
- "We don't need both."

Look at his face.

Oh dear, don't tell him.

We then continued
with our road trip

that no one had
thought of doing before...

Heading south towards Hungary...

with James moaning away

like Nigel Mansell
in the good old days.

The steering
wheel's still too small.

The throttle pedal is still in the
floor and too high off the ground,

the brake's still
pulling to the right.

Hammond is: "I've got sunburn."

And Jeremy's saying: "I'm not
sure my A/C is working properly."

They've no idea.

Once inside Hungary, we
received word from Mr Wilman

that we should report here.

This looks grass-track
racing to me.

God, it's sticky.

It's a country fair. We'll be
made to do Morris dancing.

I got a text from Mr Wilman.

What does he say?

I need my glasses, hang on.

We're judging
the terrier racing.

"You are going to race in turn
around the track I've set up."

- That's it.
- Yeah.

"The winner is the one who is
shot the least amount of times."

- What?
- "Shot."

Shot with what?

Hungary is famous
for the Rubik's Cube

and goulash.

Everyone knows that.

What everyone doesn't know,

is that this country also
produces the world's best archers.

And we'd arrived at
an archery academy,

run by this chap.

It doesn't feel that sharp.

Would this go in to the car?

It might do.

There was only
one way to find out.

Find a volunteer

and do our own test.

"I gather you've
got a job for us.

Here I am. Ready for duty."

- Right.
- Move your arm, Nigel.

"I'll stick it in me lap.
No funny business."

Right, here we go.

You're going to fire...

I'm just saying I don't think
an arrow will go through that.

- But if they miss this...
- Exactly.

- We'll be there.
- I know.

OK.

What if it bounces back
and gets me in the eye?

- Oh!
- Oh my Lord!

- And that was you doing it.
- That was a bit worrying.

Oh shit!

"Oh, lads, I've got
an arrow in me 'ead."

They're pretty good.

The point I'm trying to make

is that James May, at a range of
20 feet, missed the target. Right?

- And that was a stationary target.
- Yes, but...

We're going to be driving along.

To make things worse,

another text then
arrived from Mr Wilman.

"The archers will
be shooting at you

whilst riding horses."

We'll be moving as the
target, but they'll be moving

- themselves on horses.
- Yes.

On an animal which is scared by
paper bags, wind, rain, sunshine,

gravel, door knobs,

- crisp packets...
- Dogs.

You're riding along, "I'm
just lined up on the target",

and the horse sneezes or
bucks or does something.

- Arrow in your face.
- Well, look.

I know.

I'm well aware of it.

Up at Mr Wilman's track,

things had gone a bit
Game of Thrones-ish.

After a long discussion
between Hammond and I,

it was decided that
James should go first.

In 3, 2, 1, begin!

James' tactic was to go slowly.

Because he had no choice.

Here comes a horseman.

Ah!

I heard that.

Argh!

And that.

God, that is proper sca...

Argh! Argh!

Argh! Argh!

Argh!

Stop!

James May has
become a porcupine.

Argh!

Oh, God, let me
go across the line.

Oh!

Oh dear!

1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

- 6.
- 6.

7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14.

Your score, James May,
is 14 and you are alive.

Hammond was up next.

3, 2, 1, goodbye.

Unlike James, he had
a choice of speeds.

Ow!

He's making dust. He's
hoping he'll be invisible

in his dust cloud.

Oh my God! That's
firing straight at...

God above!

Didn't like that.

Although some arrows
found their mark...

Hammond's speed and
power did seem to work.

Only 1 on this side.
Bit disappointing.

- It broke though.
- It broke.

He's only got 7.

4, 5, 6, 7.

But then...

Ah! Wait a minute.

Wait a minute. One
of your targets fell off.

- What was it? 7?
- Plus those 3.10.

You dropped a target before
the end so he gets a penalty of 4,

which means 14,
so its neck and neck.

Are these the international
regulations for this?

You can't just
randomly give me...

- "I agree as well."
- There you go. 3 to 1.

You can't bring
Nigel in to this.

He just has.

So that's 14, 14.14 to beat.

- J. Clarkson, are you ready?
- Not happy, but ready.

3, 2, 1, go!

Perhaps because they were
distracted by the sheer beauty of my car,

Ouch! Christ!

The archers fired more
arrows at the bodywork

than the targets.

In the windscreen.

Make it end!

Although this would guarantee

a winning score,

team Le-Seyde

paid a heavy price.

Nigel Mansell's
head has come off.

"Now look what you've done."

"I've been shot in the
cheek with an arrow.

And now me 'ead's come off."

- Can we add up your hits?
- 1, 2,

3,

6.

You've won.

I've lived. Nigel has
been decapitated.

And my candelabra is in tatters.

And that is a sentence
nobody's ever said before.

The next morning, we
all turned off our phones

so Mr Wilman couldn't
text us anymore

and headed for
our final country.

Slovenia.

OK, I've repaired
my chandeliers,

but most importantly,

I've surgically
reattached Nigel's head.

"You lads have a life, you
do. I'll tell you that for nothing."

Meanwhile, James
in the hot rod again,

was back in moan mode.

God, I hate it!

It's noisy, it's ugly,

it smells,

I've offended women everywhere.

I'm going to say

and it's a big field
of competitors,

this is the worst car
I've ever driven on TV.

Actually in my life.

It's not even fast.

The biggest number
I've seen on that speedo

is 70 and I know
that's only about 64.

That's it.

Soon, we entered Slovenia, where
we were immediately distracted

by the scenery.

Jesus! That is spectacular.

Holy cow!

Soon we realised that these
mountains weren't just beautiful.

They could be useful too.

Useful in helping us
find out if James' hot rod

was as slow as he claimed.

How fast have you managed to make
the hot rod go while you were driving it?

Maybe 65 miles an hour.

Let's see now what it can
achieve in the hands of a master.

Here he comes now.

"Let's see the dog getting the
rabbit. What's going on here?

"There's only one fellow for this
job, me, with an arrow in me face.

Ready to go.

Now you've got a world
champion in what you've got here."

Nigel, you've got your straight six.
But to give you a bit more oomph,

we've added some extra gravity.

65 mph to beat on one run.
There's a speed readout over there,

which is connected
to a speed trap.

"I'll blow the doors
off the speed reader.

Watch this car control."

- You ready, Nige?
- "Ready."

3, 2, 1, go!

- He's under way.
- So long, lads!

- Nigel!
- Keep right!

Even though the impact

had knocked all
of Nigel's hair out,

he managed to regain control.

And he smashed
James' speed record.

But sadly, the hot
rod was a write-off.

I haven't seen a car this damaged
since James drove in to a tunnel.

- Well, that is...
- It's pretty bent.

Nigel, you did 89.14 mph. 25
mph faster than I've ever been.

"I don't care. I am resigning.

I hate this gig, it's uncomfy.
There's no dignity in this."

He's only been working
with us for about 3 days.

People will say: "Remember when
Mansell was with... He didn't last long."

We'd better apologise to
the owners of the ski resort.

- Sorry about that.
- Sorry.

- Sorry.
- Sorry.

We got back on the road, a
little sad that Nigel had quit.

On the plus side,

we were now just 60 miles
from the finish line at Lake Bled.

And our colleague

was smiling again.

Hello again, old chum.

Very, very nice to
be back with you.

I hope I didn't say anything bad
about you. If I did, I didn't mean it.

Oh!

Hang on.

Don't stop.

Sensing the little scamp
was up to its old tricks,

Jeremy and I took our leave.

Crosley's
splashing. There it is.

Bye.

I'm very, very keen to get to
Lake Bled before it gets dark,

because I've heard it's
unbelievably beautiful

and given what we've seen today,

standards are
high to start with.

We ate up the miles
on silk smooth roads,

drinking in the "Sound
of Music" backdrop.

As the sun was setting,

we finally reached
our destination.

Oh my Lord!

- That delivers.
- Does it ever.

If you painted that as a scene,
and presented it to someone,

they'd say: "You've
overdone it."

"You can't have 2 churches,
one on an island and one there

and a castle on a rock. Nowhere
in the world looks like that."

It's fabulous.

I love the colour of
melted glacier water.

That is beautiful,
beautiful scenery.

We could wait here for James

or we could go and
find a bar or a restaurant.

With a view...

That looks at that and
have a cheeky beer.

I favour that option,
because as a team,

66.6% of us will have enjoyed
a beer while looking at that.

Sadly, Captain Slowly

didn't arrive until
after it had gone dark.

So it ate half a pig,
but it only had 3 legs.

- So it...
- Mate!

- Evening.
- We all made it!

Welcome. Nice to see you.

- You're here.
- I am.

You've done a job.
We've done a thing.

We've done well. Conquered it.

The only drawback is,
sorry to have to tell you,

that view, Lake Bled - isn't it, Hammond?
- is unbelievable.

"View" doesn't cover
it. It's like a feast...

He said his eyes
have indigestion.

They couldn't
consume any more of it.

I love a lake, but nothing rivals
this. It's a shame you missed it.

- I'll see it in the morning.
- Ah!

Mmh. A bit of a
problem with that.

- We've had a text.
- Mr Wilman?

Yes.

The plane leaves tomorrow
morning at 8 o'clock.

But it's about, in your car,
two and a half hours away.

You need to leave a good
hour when you check-in.

- So...
- We've worked this out.

Have you?

- There's no more view to look at.
- You have to leave at half past four.

- Really?
- This is where it gets unfortunate.

- You've missed it this evening.
- Yes.

- Because it's dark.
- Yes.

But you'll miss it in the
morning, it's even more dark.

So I'm going to go to bed.

That's a shame again
because we had a delicious

- spaghetti bolognese.
- That's fine. See you in the morning.

See you...

- See you at the airport.
- It'll be dark.

I want to remind myself
of this before we go.

The next morning, I was on
my way before the sun came up.

Come on, metal bastard. I've
even got my Crosley T-shirt on.

Let's go.

I'd actually got up
earlier than I needed to.

Because I wanted to leave

a present for the Smug Brothers
who'd seen everything on this trip

while I'd seen nothing.

That has got to be May.

That is next level!

That is really...

Oh!

Oh, he's done me.

- What?
- He's done me as well.

Oh... he is evil.

He's also an idiot. I've got
2 spares on my front wings.

I'll have a wheel. It's a pickup.
There's bound to be one.

Dammit!

These are fake. There
are no wheels in them.

What, your wheel things?

Like your manifolds,
there's no wheels in it.

Where's your spare?

I haven't got one.

Where's he bloody put them?

We haven't got time for this.

Then, we found them.

Oh!

Oh, my God!

Worst still, powered craft
are banned on Lake Bled,

so to get our wheels back we'd
have to commandeer a rowing boat.

Oh hell!

This is like Swallows
and Amazons, only crap.

Right.

I'm facing the wrong way.

- I need directions, Hammond.
- Er, yes.

Right hand down. I don't
know, I'm facing the other way.

- Left hand down a bit.
- What?

Welcome back.

I think I'm going to make
it, if nothing goes wrong

with the fine car.

I am, I wish to remind
you, in the lead.

724cc, 75 years old

and here I am... winning.

Bullshit! I've gone
in the swimming area.

Having offloaded
Hammond into the other boat,

we eventually reached
the dock with our wheels.

- We've wasted 45 minutes.
- I'm aware of that.

No, don't... I can't
hold it at an angle.

Breaking, buffeting, weaving...

Thank you.

What a fine car
this is, this fine car.

Luckily for us, wheels float,

so, after a bit more faff...

Go!

We were finally on the road.

Bagpipes,

serious speed is
called for. 6 litres of V8,

that'll get me there.

Job 1: catch James May

and run him off the road.
Job 2: catch the plane.

Temperature is constant,
all pressure is good.

This car has only
one remaining job.

With as many years on it, it just
has to get me to the airport. That is all.

Listen to that.

Crisp power.

Yes!

Right. I'm on the hunt.

Up ahead,

I was now facing the
Crosely's number 1 enemy:

a hill.

Oh, God!

I'm down to 15 mph.

Come on!

Roll it in.

Hauling him in
through the corners.

Ha! Look what I've found.

Come on!

Sorry, mate. Gotta be done.

There we are. James
May missed Jesus,

he missed the POW camp,

every single lunch and
dinner on the entire road trip

and now he's going
to miss the plane.

And a mile or so later...

Oh, dear. Oh, dear.

I've got the oil light
on, temperature light on,

every light is on.

I'm overheating.

I'm sorry?

I've got all sorts of lights
coming on. I'll have to stop.

Oh, dear.

And then there was one.

Oh!

Having a spot of bother?

Oh!

Shouldn't rejoice, but hahaha!

Oh, God!

I think the problem is... I don't
think, I know what the problem is.

The electric fan
hasn't been running.

As it turned out, the airport
was just a couple of miles

from where Hammond
had broken down.

Here it is. Aerodrome.

I'll have their lunch, their drinks and
then stretch out across their seats.

However, Mr Wilman's plane
was not what I was expecting.

That is... Jesus!

And clearly, it
was already taxiing.

Shit!

Look, the ramp's down.

The ramp is down.
The ramp is down!

A lot of jet wash.

Lots of jet wash.

I'm on!

I'm off again.

Go for second.

Come on!

Back wheels.

Jesus!

Jeez!

Holy shit! Are you kidding?

Come on, car. Yes,
yes, yes, yes, yes.

Go on!

Argh!

It's getting away.

Coming through!

Aha!

You bastard!

That was a bit late.

I've got to do it this time.

No, windscreen
wipers. For God's sake!

Here he comes.

Here he comes.

I can't do it.

Shoot me! Shoot me, Hammond!

Come on!

Here I come.

Yeah!

Dead?

It won't start.

Come on in, James.

- It won't go.
- We can't take off like that.

Argh!

Ooh!

Oh, Jesus. Come
on, car, you can do it.

Come on, James!

It's a good job the
runway is 26 miles long.

I'm pleased about that.

It's longer than that
one in Fast and Furious.

Much longer!

Buffeting. Buffeting.

Argh!

Yes!

Oh, my Lord!

Wow.

- James May caught the plane!
- Welcome aboard!

Thank you.

- We did it!
- We all did it!

- We did a thing.
- That was extraordinary.

Err...

Oh, God, I know what...

We've just driven on to
an airplane that just landed.

- I've got a text.
- What?

- It's from Mr Wilman.
- Mmh-mmh.

It says: "Do you want
coffees? I'm at the BA check-in."

- It's in there, isn't it?
- There.

So everything we just did
was nothing to do with this trip?

No, it wasn't.

And on that terrible
disappointment,

it's time to end. Thank
you so much for watching.

See you next time.

- Somebody's going to be cross.
- Yeah.