Like Jim Clark before him, Chris was born the son of a farmer. It was July 20^th, 1943. World War Two was winding down and a long chapter of an individual’s racing history was about to begin.

Chris always loved cars and everything connected on the winding roads of the Amon farm. Like many other farmer’s sons, Chris drove as soon as his feet could touch the pedals. The improvised races with his mates led to real drives in the redoubtable Maserati 250F, where Reg Parnell, who invited Chris to try the real thing in Europe, spotted the seventeen-year-old.

So it went that the still teenage Amon went to the continent to drive the year old Lola-Climax, both babes in the woods trying make as little noise as possible. The end result of that first season was two seventh places and a solid season among the professionals.

With the world at his feet and great plans ahead, the first of many setbacks took place as Reg Parnell died leaving Chris, Mike Hailwood and Peter Revson to Reg’s son Tim to guide them through the ’64 season. Chris and his flatmates were known far better for their exploits off the track than on, but each achieved some good results.

Fellow Kiwi, Bruce McLaren took Chris under his wing and the legend of “Amon the test driver” was born. With countless test miles under his belt for Firestone, Chris was as highly regarded as any of his contemporaries. During the 1966 season, when Formula One drives were lacking, Chris became one of the Ford GT40 drivers with a Le Mans win as the definitive highlight.

Late that year a certain Enzo Ferrari called and the rest is history in scarlet.

Chris started his sojourn with Ferrari as number three on the totem pole, but accidents to Bandini and Parkes upgraded the young Kiwi to team leader.

Journeyman performances followed with Chris often chasing the Repco-Brabhams and Lotus. The new four-valve engine made its appearance at Monza and Chris began to turn up at the sharp end of the grid. Great things were expected for ’68.

Brando, “Coulda’ been a contender,” and Chris could have become champion, but the infamous “Amon jinx” reared it’s ugly head in the most profound way. Time after time, Chris would look like breaking through to the victory podium and just as often he was denied. Even the early Tasman results were not enough to offset “The season that wasn’t.”

If ’68 was bad, ’69 had to be painful. Again, the Tasman results would flatter to deceive. Chris’ championship down under would pale as the Formula One season wore on. A third place in Holland was the sole highlight with the engine failure in Spain the final ignominy. The sound of failing crankshafts on the new flat-12 engine sent Chris packing to MARCH and the allure of an equal Cosworth to Stewart. The pram-like March may have lasted, but was not the ticket to success. The memories of Spa were not enough to keep Chris in house as the wail of Matra beckoned to an even greener pasture. A lost visor at Monza in ’71 and a deflated tire at La Charade in ‘72 eroded the spirit of a driver seeking some kind of redemption. “Will it ever come right?” Chris would say more often than not.

“Mad Max” Mosley and March were to renew their relationship with Chris for the ’73 season, but an eleventh hour change of heart set Chris on a downward spiral that would start with Tecno and end in the gravel traps at Canada. In between some inspired performances with the fledging Ensign showed that Chris had not lost his stuff, but the toll was taken and the family farm beckoned.

Chris Amon will be remembered by some as the greatest driver never to win a Formula One race that counted for the World Championship. His fans will remember him as the young man from New Zealand who could slide a Maserati 250F like Fangio, loved cars and racing and gave the common man someone to cheer.

Victory isn’t always measured on the stat sheets.