Like many things in life, it seemed like a good idea at the time. After about twenty years of racing contemporary sports and saloon cars on and off, I had gone "historic," as we say here, and decided to build and race a tiny-but-cute FIAT-Abarth 850TC. So what's that got to do with Volvos?

Well, despite it being years in the making, and after only one major event at the initial Goodwood Revival meeting, I realized there was a catch. As a road-going race car that I had to drive to the circuit, I could just squeeze myself, a set of tyres and a small toolbox inside, but absolutely nothing else. With a wife and two small kids who might conceivably like to come along too, not to mention the space requirement for a picnic hamper, it became obvious that what I needed was a family racing car. Furthermore, it had dawned on me when driving the FIAT that it might just be a good idea to have something more than the petrol tank (over my knees), two sheets of tin, and some fresh air between me and the rapidly approaching scenery. The answer was suddenly obvious: a Volvo Amazon.

Now in England Amazons are known in competition circles for one thing only and that is rallying. In this regard they are pretty successful, giving Lotus Cortinas and even Porsche 911s a run for outright honours, so it should come as no surprise in pre-1965 events. Nevertheless, I heard that certain historic rally organizers considered banning them from rallies after a few indiscretions in which some cars, allowed only 1800cc engines under the FIA rules, were found to be allegedly 2.1, 2.3 or, in the case of one Belgian PV, 2.5litres.

So the plan was simple: now would be a good time to buy a (legal) historic rally car, convert it to a race car and undertake some top historic endurance racing events that would suit its rugged and reliable personality, whilst having a trunk big enough to carry lunch plus spares and a back seat for junior passengers. Furthermore, research revealed the likes of Tom Trana had successfully raced factory cars in England in the early '60s, not to mention at the Nurburgring where I myself had been to compete at seven consecutive 24-hour races. Like I said, it seemed like a great idea at the time.

So far it has been a bit of a crash course in the ways of old Volvos in general and what's needed to make them work as historic race competition vehicles. Currently our car is the only racing Amazon I am aware of in Britain and, after just one initial "toe in the water" outing at Donington Park last year in the British round of the FIA European Historic Touring Car championship, I am honoured to have been invited to enter the Goodwood Revival Meeting again this September. I think we are the first-ever Volvo asked to what is now established as one of the world's premier historic race meetings.

To develop the car, we intend to partake in a new, three-part championship for pre-'66 historic sedans comprised of one-hour races with two drivers at Silverstone on May 28, Brands Hatch on July1/2 and Spa Francochamps in Belgium on September 9/10. With only two weeks to go to the first event, I am now seriously short of time, but I have at least a co-driver signed in the shape of an old school friend and one time Ferrari driver Jos Van de Perre.

Our European governing body, the FIA, has more restrictive rules for preparation than I think is true in the U.S., and understanding their bureaucratic complexity is highly important. The fact we started with a rally car has proved almost as much a hindrance as an aid and, in retrospect, I would be just as happy to have begun with a good standard road car. At least you know that way what should be normal.

So, what is this car and how are we going to make it the all-round family road racing car? In England the car's registration (license plate) number is usually for life. As I write, I am awaiting research from the central computer vehicle licensing centre in Swansea that will hopefully reveal who owned "CNA 161C" from brand-new to the present day. Incidentally, the "C" at the end of the plate tells anyone who cares to look that it was first registered in 1965.

Recent historic rally competition included the Monte Challenge and Le Jog (a Lands End to John O'Groats event) in the ownership of a Mr. Wally Wright in deepest North Yorkshire. There is just a chance this was originally a genuine Ruddspeed modified car back in the '60s. Ken Rudd was the best known British tuner of Volvos at the time, and I believe his conversions were sanctioned by the factory. Ken ran the business out of Worthing in Sussex before doing what many sensible garagistes have done: selling up at the right time and moving to an early retirement in the Caribbean.

When I bought the car, it looked ready to take on South America. The interior had more map pockets than a Norfolk jacket and the front subframe looked like it had been reinforced using plates from the battleship Potemkin. Mud was everywhere. Inspection lights were wired in everyplace, not surprising as it came with an electrician's re-wiring bill that stretched to œ1000s. Why, it had more relays than Apollo 13.

Work so far has focused on lowering and stiffening the suspension all round (a thank you to Cameron Lovre at IPD; your fabulous sway bars could have leveled the Titanic), converting the rally-spec engine to more of a three-quarter race spec. (it still has to drive to the circuit and use regular 98-octane petrol), lightening the shell where possible and/or allowed, fitting an overdrive, the usual never-ending list of smaller but essential preparation jobs and overridingly above all else trying to sort what I now know to be the Achilles heel of Amazons: the back axle.

An odd design (if I may say so) and one that, while seemingly happy bobbing up and down forest tracks in the dead of night above the Arctic circle, when shown a racetrack wants to leak, tramp, spin and ultimately break its halfshafts, by all accounts. Imagine how I felt on the standing start grid at Donington last year waiting for the lights to go green. I dropped the clutch with plenty of revs to discover little of significance happening at all. The rest of the field shot off and I waited an age for the old girl to stop bogging down, pick up her skirts and get going long after the rest. "Oh, they all do that," said the rally boys I talked to later. "Terrible off the line, always have been." The myths have started.

Images styled from photos provided by Joel Wykeham