Remember Volvo? Yeah, the same folks who built your dad’s famously tank-like station wagon. Believe it or not, they almost threw their sensible Swedish hat into the wild world of Formula 1.
This wasn’t just some marketing daydream. Volvo had already proven they could hold their own on the track. Who could forget those gloriously boxy 850 estates they raced in the British Touring Car Championship? Against all odds—and with plenty of skeptics watching—they actually managed to compete. That small taste of success planted a seed for something bigger.
Enter the mastermind: Tom Walkinshaw, the mann who had a knack for making the impossible happen. After pulling off miracles with Volvo’s touring cars, he didn’t stop there, he set his sights on the ultimate prize: F1. When he took over the struggling Arrows team back in the day, it seemed like the perfect chance to bring Volvo to the big leagues.
The plan sounded solid on paper. Use Volvo’s legendary engineering grit—these were the folks who built cars tougher than tanks. Add Walkinshaw’s racing genius. Throw in a former Cosworth engine expert. Top it all off with a strong driver lineup, including reigning world champ Damon Hill.
So, what went wrong?
Here’s where things got tricky. They had talent, technical partnerships, and even a promising Swedish rookie—Kenny Bräck—who might have become their own Kimi Räikkönen before Kimi was Kimi. But, like so many racing dreams, it boiled down to cash—and nerves. Building a competitive F1 engine from scratch was a terrifying gamble. Then Ford bought Volvo, and suddenly, the bean counters weren’t so keen on wild motorsport adventures.
The kicker? The Arrows team ended up running Yamaha engines that… well, let’s just say they made Volvo’s tractor engines sound like high-performance marvels by comparison.
You can’t help but wonder: what if? Imagine those iconic boxy Volvo lines reimagined for F1 aerodynamics back in the day. Picture Swedish fans going wild for their home team at Monaco. Think how different Volvo’s image might be today—known for racing glory as much as for safety.
In the end, Volvo’s F1 dream joined that long list of “almosts” in motorsport—alongside Porsche’s aborted comeback and Honda’s rollercoaster. But there’s something oddly charming about the idea of those famously sensible Swedes shaking up the glitziest, most chaotic circus in racing.
Maybe in some parallel universe, a shiny Volvo World Championship trophy gathers dust in Gothenburg. In ours? We’re left imagining that slightly bonkers, glorious alternate reality where the brick went racing.
