This story really starts on a sunny Saturday afternoon at Blackhawk Farms Raceway, June 1996. We were at the driver's meeting for the first ever Volvo Grand Prix, and [race organizer] Ray Freiwald announced that VSA and Volvo Cars of North America were having such a good time that they wanted to do it again and were thinking of Road America at the VSCDA Fall Festival in September 1998.

Road America just happens to be two miles from my shop door and I happen to have been racing Volvos for ten years, happen to have grown up here watching and driving races at that track, and happen to have been racing in one thing or another since I was six. Somehow, this all fit right in. Never one to neglect making big plans, I decided that, in addition to the trusty 1800E I was racing that weekend at Blackhawk, I could have our new P1800 vintage race car done and developed in the upcoming two years. "Piece of cake!" I thought.

Little did I know that before September 1998 rolled around we'd:

• take on essentially full-time care of a very bright and very energetic three-year-old -- my grandson,
• see our trusty 1800E seriously wounded when Paul, our helper, used it in a drivers' school the following fall and spun it into a concrete wall,
• lose most of Paul's time that fall, as he spent it working off the bill at the shop that repaired the damage instead of here working on the new P1800,
• and, only a matter of hours after Ray's meeting, encounter a plague in our 1800E's suspension that would take the rest of that season and part of the next to solve.

We repaired this early Sunday A.M. and checked the other side. During the group 8 race, hot on the heels of Randy Keller's 142, I hit the brakes from high speed for a tight corner, a control arm bolt on the opposite side snapped, and the car spun off the track so fast I had no idea what had happened.

The solution to this problem would ultimately involve removing the engine and the front cross member numerous times, breaking a few more bolts at high speed and upgrading hardware, until we now have half-inch aircraft bolts with fine threads, Locktited and safety wired, in where grade 5, 7/16th-inch bolts originally resided.

One last obstacle to building the new P1800: I never dreamt that an Amazon race car, which had appeared to be an interesting project when I took some customers to see it, would suddenly become mine four months before the Road America Volvo race.

All this on top of the ordinary cares of running our business, OJ Rallye Automotive, maintaining at least the form of family and social life, if only for sanity's sake, plowing snow in winter, mowing the lawn in summer, etc., etc. Actually, I race to maintain sanity -- I maintain the family/social stuff for their sake -- and 'cause they help me race.

In short, two years passed and sitting in my shop, two months before the second Volvo Grand Prix, was the primer-coated tub of the P1800 racecar-to-be and, alternately, the trusty old 1800E, its control arm problems successfully solved, and the Amazon, minus a proper race motor.

To solve the latter problem, we went to the Web through this magazine. Editor Phil kindly helped us with a worldwide plea for a sponsor for a motor -- even including a picture of grandson Hunter, now four, turning a wrench on the tired short block that came with the Amazon.

Three weeks before the race, Rob Edwards, who races a 544, and Borton Volvo, a Minneapolis dealer who sponsors Rob, came forward with a used B20F from Rob's cousin Brad Anderson's recently wrecked 1800ES. The motor showed up the Thursday afternoon before the race as part of Rob's entourage. By 5 P.M. Friday, it was installed.

(It's fun to have dealers as sponsors. The motor arrived here in a new AWD wagon -- but vintage racers as we are, we don't remember anything more about it than that, and that being inside it felt, said my crew chief Robin, like being on Mars.)

We'd taken time the weekend before to look over the 1800E and do the inspection and preparation usual before any race weekend. This includes tuning, making sure nothing is leaking, everything is full, and all the nuts and bolts on the car are tight. Various parts are checked for wear; happily, the only part that required replacement this time around was a tie rod end.

On Friday, early-arriving racers were using the extra cost day for practice. We were at the shop working on the Amazon when John Morley, who had travelled from Canada to race his P1800, stopped by. His practice had been interrupted by a clutch failure. We sent him on his way with a new clutch kit. As the weekend went on, a caliper, a pressure plate, various front end parts and what have you found their way from our warehouse, and from the "Volvo Garten" in our back yard, into several race cars. We were happy to be able to help keep them on the track.

Friday evening, we got our race cars into the paddock and experienced the Mars-car first hand as we borrowed it for the quick ride down to the tech barn and the VSCDA welcome party. We left the 1800 sitting at its ease next to the Amazon under a huge, fancy, red and white tent left from the CART race earlier in the summer. Upon his arrival from California, Rick Hayden had quickly laid claim to that spot for Rob's 544, our two cars and his car, the meticulously restored Art Riley 1800 that had raced at RA in the early 1960s.

Perhaps you're wondering how I'll drive two Volvos in the Volvo race. We had had numerous offers for a year and a half from drivers wanting a seat, but, a few weeks before the race, I talked to Burt Levy, who was happy to accept my offer to drive one of our Volvos in the Volvo race. I told him he could have his pick of the two cars as long as it didn't rain. If it rained, I wanted my 1800, because we work so well together in the rain, having beaten vastly faster cars (even a Lotus Elan 26R) thanks to the equalizer of a wet track.

For those who don't know him, Burt is B.S. Levy, one of the best automotive writers around and the author of the fantastic racing novel The Last Open Road. He is fun to be with at the races and his racing career probably spans almost as many years as my forty-one (but I think he started with real cars, whereas I started as a kid with go-karts).

Saturday morning, 7 A.M., we arrived at the track with our Amazon wagon and 245 loaded with supplies. We needed to make the 8 A.M. group 8 practice to drive the Amazon for the first time with its freshly-installed used motor. Other than minor fuel problems preventing the use of full throttle and severe missing at higher RPMs, it was great.

After the thirty-minute practice, I arrived back at the tent and, instead of having my usual few minutes of cooling down and debriefing myself, ran to the 1800 to verse Burt in driving it for the first time -- not that the car has a slew of quirks, but he needed basic familiarization with gauges, RPM limit and what the toggle switch on the shift lever was for.

Burt has made a reputation for himself driving other people's cars -- often the very fast and very pricey ones -- so he knew what to ask, too. We sent him off for his first thirty minutes of practice in the 1800E, somehow forgetting to ask him -- or ourselves until that minute -- had he ever driven a Volvo 1800E?

I was unnecessarily pacing nervously for two-thirds of that session, and then I saw him exiting corner 14 with the tail hanging out about the way I would, so I stopped pacing. I could tell he was getting the hang of it.

Burt didn't want to interfere with the qualifying position of the 1800, which would determine its starting position for the group 2 race, so I qualified both cars and screwed up the qualifying for group 2 for myself -- but not as much as I thought when I was driving it.

To help long-time friend Rick Hayden relearn Road America (because he hadn't been on the track since we met there some twenty years ago), we waited until all the other cars had gone out to start the qualifying session and I led Rick around for a couple of laps to show him some of the lines I use through the corners around the four-mile-long track.

I thought this screwed me up, but it turned out I qualified the 1800 with a 2:58.984. This is, however, a second or more slower than I could have done without Porsche 356s holding me up in the corners.

Rick qualified at a 3:13.612, which is about the lap time Art Riley did thirty-five years ago when he drove the same car there.

Saturday night we spent socializing at the VSA banquet and the VSCDA banquet at Siebken's, the well-known racing bar and old-time resort in Elkhart Lake. Road America was built by the racers who used to race on the roads around the lake in the early 1950s -- the original street race course went past Siebken's. When the state of Wisconsin passed a law banning racing on streets after a horrific crash at Le Mans, the Elkhart Lake racers designed and built Road America, in its design mimicking the corners of the old street course.

We talked racing and Volvos, had a few beers (but not too many), went home early (but not too early), and I woke up Sunday morning having finally caught the cold Robin and Hunter had been trying to keep from me.

And we woke up an hour late -- by Sunday morning on a race weekend, there's an unmentioned, but nevertheless serious, battle to keep the exhaustion of the weeks of preparation from overcoming the need to go fast -- and zoomed to the track to find Burt pacing next to the 1800, waiting to go out for the twenty-minute warm-up to get more experience in the car before the Volvo race later that day. We got there at 8, practice was at 8:20 -- Burt had the car cover off, but it was up to us to torque lug nuts and check tire pressures, oil and water, flip the switch and send him out.

He came back with a smile on his face. "I think I'm beginning to get it," were, roughly, his words. "You just have to let it woggle."

The day before, in practice, Burt had managed a low 3:07, which is fine for his first attempt at race-driving what is actually a streetable 1800. He was confident he had lowered his lap time considerably in the warm-up, but we had neglected to time him -- this in part because we were getting the Amazon ready to do battle in the group 8 race, a mere two hours away. I was about to do two races back to back with a full-blown cold, knowing there'd be no way to use a Kleenex while wearing a balaclava covering my moustache under a full-face helmet.

The group 8 race was a pretty routine affair. Jeff Babcock in his 122 passed me early on one of the long straightaways with superior power, and I got him back under braking in one of the tight corners and never saw him again. Surprisingly, we finished 3rd in class, 20th overall, and in front of the other three Volvo Amazons in that race! Apparently, the intense concentration of competition driving kept the brain from sending sneeze or cough signals for the entire race.

After the checkered flag flew, instead of significantly reducing the pace for the cool-down lap, I passed what may have been more cars on my way to the pit lane than I had during the race. I had seen very little carnage by the side of the track to be dragged in, so I knew the next race -- where I was to drive the 1800 -- would be starting on schedule; that is, five minutes from now.

Burt had the 1800 waiting for me at the false grid. I climbed out of the Amazon, sweat pouring off, drank about a quart of water that Burt delivered along with the car and rested for a few minutes before going out to race again.

Luckily, there was shade with a breeze, so I could recover slightly before climbing into the black car that had been preheating in the sun. (This is perhaps another reason I hope for rain at the races.)

As in the start of many races, I'm passed by cars with what I like to call an "unfair horsepower advantage" on the first two straightaways. Then, using what capabilities I and the 1800 have in braking and cornering, we get back past several of them. This worked without a hitch until turn 5. Ray Freiwald was the first of the cars I got under braking. There may have been another, and then I was next to John Morley in his 1800, on the inside of him by the apex of the corner when, much to my surprise, he turned into the side of my car.

This didn't upset my car, but I think it upset his slightly, and definitely his red 1800 doesn't look as good with the black stripes down the side. After the race, Burt, who had been watching, told me, "Don't worry about it, that's what Formula V drivers call 'zero tolerance racing.'"

Later that lap, I was able to drive around an Austin Healey and a Porsche 356 in the carousel. Then, using that unfair horsepower advantage again, they both got past me. I spent the next several laps trying to push, through drafting, the Austin Healey past the Porsche, who was definitely holding us both up. He may have been blocking, and he was definitely braking too early and too much for several of the corners.

I called the Austin Healey driver a few nights after the race to ask, "Do you know how hard I was trying to push you through the air past that Porsche?"

"Yeah," he said. "I think he was blocking us." (Is it fair to block people? Well, not blatantly -- only to the extent I do it!)

Eventually, the Healey and I both got past the Porsche. I finished 8th in class and 23rd overall out of sixty-eight cars in the group, and with a dumbfounding high-speed miss that developed late in the race in what is ordinarily one of the world's most reliable, dependable race cars.

This was the last race of the morning. Immediately after lunch was the Volvo race.

I got back to the tent with a hot race car (and a cold that wasn't getting any better) to be greeted by fifteen to twenty people we really didn't have enough time to give the attention they deserved, because we had to focus on diagnosing and correcting that miss in the 1800.

Robin pulled the hot spark plugs out for examination, which didn't give us any clues. Then Burt suggested what he called a "Polish compression test." You put a few layers of shop rag on your thumb and hold it over each spark plug hole in sequence. Robin cranked the motor, Burt held the rag and pronounced that each cylinder had compression, based on what he could feel with his thumb.

Moments after the last cylinder was checked, the realization sank into my fevered brain that the motor had not been cranking at full speed, so we did a few quick checks of the charging system. The wires appeared to be intact on the alternator, but I couldn't actually touch them to ensure connection, because the alternator is in close proximity to the header and intake manifold brace, right then not only an area of difficult access, but of intense heat.

We connected our 6-amp battery charger, but this, as it turned out, unfortunately did not get the battery up to full charge.

Burt and I decided he would go out in the black car, and we'd hope for the best. I'd go out in the Amazon. Burt would start the 1800 with the battery charger connected, leave the paddock as late as possible, so he wouldn't have to stop and then restart the motor on the false grid.

(To be honest, both cars were on battery chargers before the Volvo race -- Robin had neglected to turn off the Amazon's switch when Burt brought it in. Out of respect for Hunter's pride, we won't outline the distractions a four-year-old a long walk from a potty can offer even the most dedicated of crew chiefs.)

So, one way or another -- two years after the first news of this race on our home track -- we had two Volvos starting the Volvo Grand Prix. After driving a Volvo around race tracks for ten years, rarely in close company with other Volvos, the pace lap with nothing in view through the windshield or the mirrors but other Volvo race cars was a memory to keep.

But, like all pace laps, this one ended with the green flag that begins serious racing.

With the still-sputtering Amazon, we were obviously outpowered again at the start, dropping back a few places, getting ready to fight back towards the front through hard braking and cornering. Much to my surprise, I ended up with Rick Hayden in the Riley 1800 in front of me. No one knows how many times we passed each other back and forth, for two or three laps, before I kept him behind me for good.

Burt had to pull off on the first lap in the 1800. The engine still wasn't at full song because of the voltage requirements of the ignition and the electronic fuel injection. He said later he could picture the disappointment on my face as he went by, but he kept reassuring us he'd had a great ride driving the 1800 that weekend.

The Amazon took me across the finish line in 9th place, which is a credit to my crew Robin and Hunter, to Rob Edwards and Borton Volvo, and maybe a little to me, considering we didn't even have a race motor for this car. Some of the competition had some pretty powerful motors and I know of at least two who installed spare race motors during the weekend.

And more thanks than I can say is due to all my friends who have helped over the years with our vintage Volvo racing effort, which is fueled more by a little help from our friends than an extravagant budget.

We rarely miss an opportunity to race one of the cars if the car is willing -- but, on this Sunday afternoon, we had been leaning towards not competing in the hour-long Enduro at the end of the day. When Robin said she would take Hunter -- an exhausted four-year-old if there ever was one -- home, because he was in pain from three wasp stings, I said, "As long as you're going home, grab a jug of fuel, and I think I can do the Enduro even with this cold."

Fortunately, she said, "No, I think we've endured enough for one day."

This let us be around the remainder of the afternoon in the paddock to see the people we'd have otherwise missed packing up and leaving during the time I would have been on the track and she would have been standing in the pit lane.

Now that it's behind us by a week, the 1800 is getting a dose of antifreeze for winter storage (remember, we're in Wisconsin). I'll be taking the Amazon to Road America with me next weekend to get a few more of the bugs out while I have use of the track, instructing for the drivers' school held in conjunction with the Alfa Club time trial weekend.

Rumors are already circulating about the next Volvo Grand Prix. Our plan is to continue to make what progress we can and, perhaps, we'll have three Volvo race cars in the next one.

The editor wishes to express his sincere thanks to Ms. Robin Campbell and Hunter Hueppchen (pictured at left) for their assistance in making this story possible.

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