Hertford. A normally unprepossessing and ordinary dormitory town just north of London. Goodwood circuit, it ain’t, but on this spring morning the air is sharply crisp and the sky Battle-of-Britain blue, and I find myself tearing along an undulating dual carriageway at prodigious speed. This is a fairly terrifying but exhilarating experience. I’m crouched in the passenger seat of a tight cockpit in a small green machine, and the road appears to narrow, as it does when speed mounts into double figures. The rev-counter on the machine-turned ally dash has breached 5500rpm and my driver, Andrew Hall, who earlier confessed to downing too many cups of strong coffee, is fully wired and really getting into the groove.

We roar down to a roundabout at full chat, with road signs whizzing by and demanding that drivers reduce speed. NOW. There is no other traffic on the road to act as a mobile chicane so we steam in at full throttle. At the last minute Hall stands on the brakes and we are assailed with the odour of hot brake linings doing their utmost to reduce velocity in compressed time. I catch a few words in the roaring wind: ‘The brakes are not quite up to scratch at the moment.’ Too much information; just concentrate on the fast approaching accident!

At this point he drops a cog and boots the accelerator again. Noooo! The car lunges at the roundabout at far too great a speed as Hall yanks the steering wheel the wrong way and flicks the car out at 45 degrees to the intended line of travel. My stomach is caught out and lurches. Being unsatisfied with the car’s tardy response, kamikaze Hall saws at the wheel and buries the throttle even deeper. In the passenger seat my left elbow is clenched hard up against the skimpy door and is in danger of grazing the tarmac. With the Solex taps now wide open, the inside wheel starts to spin crazily and the acrid smell of burning Dunlop Racing rubber is all-enveloping. ‘We run the Nash without a limited-slip diff,’ he shouts at me as we continue crazily sideways. ‘S’pose I could change it to LSD and that would reduce our lap time at Goodwood by about three seconds,’ I really don’t need this sort of detail.

Slingshotting out of the nauseating 340-degree powerslide we slice off down a narrow country lane. This little car is hard and fast but instantaneously responsive. Keeping it above 4500rpm all the while, the exhaust emits a gloriously cracking, sharp metallic, staccato note. Forget the ‘tearing calico’ cliché, this is shredding aluminium at twice the volume.

Spearing down a tight sinew of tarmac with hedgerows either side, the sensation of speed is immense. The car bounces and hops over the transverse ridges but remains stable and obedient. Every corner produces a full-blooded slide with just inches to spare. The aero screens offer scant protection as my sunglasses vibrate alarmingly and what hair I have seems about to be torn forcibly from my scalp. This is an expression of unadulterated speed, akin to riding a superbike without a helmet, or a race horse bareback.

We pull into a lay-by and I feel like that lucky bloke who has just survived a session in the electric chair, with hair standing out on end, my face red and tingling and my limbs tight and sore from strain and terror. I have just experienced a serious blast in a 1951 Frazer Nash Le Mans Replica. Electrifying!

Most of us, I am sure, notice these quaint, bug-eyed contraptions parked in pit lanes at the best Historic meetings. Not particularly elegant, they are usually painted a drab green, like this one, and appear to be from the British old school of lash-and-bodge-it engineering. But I have always noted that serious drivers and collectors treat the Le Mans Rep with respect. Talk to Sir Stirling Moss, Sir Anthony Bamford, Frank Sytner or Octane columnist Nick Mason and they will all tell you that a Frazer Nash is something very special.

The photographs here of the Le Mans Replica in action were taken at last year’s Goodwood Revival, where Andrew Hall wangled a late entry. Well, Lord March and his merry men could hardly refuse the Frazer Nash, as it raced for the first time ever at the Goodwood Nine Hours on August 22, 1953. It’s an intriguing story...

The Aldington Brothers of AFN fame had realised that the pre-war BMW 328s were the best club racers of the time and they began campaigning them with some success. After WW2 Bristol Cars Ltd managed to secure the BMW engine design as war reparations and supplied engines to FN. The Le Mans Rep was Frazer Nash’s first production car, which benefited from this sophisticated BMW 328-derived engine matched to pre-war Frazer Nash chassis simplicity. Three AFN chassis were displayed at the ’48 Earls Court Show and the first car to be completed was named a High Speed. With engine output increased to 120bhp the car was raced by owner Norman Culpan and HJ ‘Aldy’ Aldington, who placed it third at Le Mans in ’49. This gave rise to the Le Mans nomenclature and 22 ‘Replicas’ of this car were sold between 1949 and ’51. The first Rep went to Count Johnny Lurani and it went on to win the Targa Florio.

The example we have here, chassis number 412/100/159, was completed in mid-1951 and was first seen at the Festival of Britain Show on the South Bank. The then-young John Melvin visited the Earls Court Motor Show in October 1951 and fell in love with the ‘Valentine’s Napier Green’ Frazer Nash. At the age of 21 his father bought the car for him to race. Its first appearance was at Turnberry on March 29, 1952, and Melvin continued to campaign the car mainly in Scotland in ’52 and ’53.

In August 1953 Melvin co-drove with Peter Kenneth at the Goodwood Nine Hours. The car was part of the Frazer Nash works team and apparently had its engine changed to an uprated FN works unit. Unfortunately it ran out of petrol and half-an-hour was lost but it managed a respectable 13th overall against the Jaguar, Aston Martin and Austin-Healey big guns, winning the Team Prize for Frazer Nash with its two team mates.

Having enjoyed the ’Nash for a number of years, John Melvin went off to do his National Service and, upon his return, discovered that his father had sold the ’Nash with just 9200 miles on the clock. The car was purchased by young Bill Bradley during the summer of 1955 but his father then sold it when Bradley failed his accountancy exams! It was then bought by Hugh Denton, who raced it for a season, selling it with 19,000 miles clocked up. The Nash then went into storage and was not seen until it emerged some 40 years later at a Christie’s auction, where it was purchased by a well-known collector.

Andrew Hall and Peter Bradfield of Hall & Bradfield (Hinge & Bracket to their mates) so enjoyed racing Murray Smith’s Le Mans Rep (chassis number 412/100/154) on the 2002 Tour Auto, they had been keeping an eye open for one for themselves. So when 412/100/159 came onto the market they convinced the owner they simply had to have it. With the deal struck they became the sixth owner(s) of the Rep in November 2004. The car was largely original but finished in a nasty green, so it was repainted in the correct Valentine’s Napier hue. The Frazer Nash had still only covered 32,000 miles and it came with the original unused hood and tonneau cover. Hall and Bradders left the car’s interior original and subjected it to a full mechanical rebuild at Blakeney Motor Sport, in Hertfordshire.

Now that Hall has effectively warmed the oil, tyres and the cockles of my heart, it’s time to have a spin. In the driving seat the big wheel is chest-close while the leather seat feels comfy and secure. The speedo and rev-counter are in view behind the springy Bluemels wheel. Second owner Bill Bradley fitted the remote gearshift to replace the original wand-like affair.

The clutch goes down with a firm shove and the short-throw shifter selects first with a slight snick. The clutch engages with a short but positive throw and the engine responds to the throttle with immediate enthusiasm, eliciting a zesty reaction from the triple Solex carbs. Must have a light flywheel. The revs rise quickly and second gear selects with a click-click of the shifter. Let the rev-counter needle rise above 3500rpm and the ’Nash takes a deep breath. Once it breaches 4500, the straight six takes another gulp and it really starts to breathe over 5500rpm. Snatch third and you are now travelling at some speed. The rack-and-pinion steering, with just 1.25 turns from lock to lock, keeps progress inch-perfect and you can lean out of the low-sided cockpit and place the visible front wheels exactly on the apex of each corner. God, this is good.

Getting a bit braver, you gain the confidence to brake later and later (you can actually brake and turn-in in this car with impunity) and even begin to indulge in a little tail-out slithering as the narrow 5.50x16in Dunlop racers allow a foot or two of sideways slippage. Addictive stuff.
You know all the while that the brakes are drums, but they are effective. The ride is firm, with a live rear axle at the rear, suspended by torsion bars and well located by an A-frame. The vintage front suspension is independent, with a transverse leaf spring, lower wishbones and dampers, all hung on a perfunctory ladder chassis.

The view over the dash, through the aero screens and along the bonnet with its pronounced air intake, is as good as it gets, especially as your progress is enlivened by the cycle wings bobbing up and down. The Le Mans Rep’s handling is benign and predictable but its lovely little 2-litre straight-six overhead-valve engine is a treat, with its complex arrangement of 12 vertical and six horizontal push-rods, which operate the exhaust valves via bell cranks. Originally it produced about 130bhp but it has been sympathetically race-prepared by Blakeney Edwards to give more grunt. The engine’s sharp and instant response is what makes attacking twisting country lanes so entertaining. Press the throttle and the revs rise instantly. Lift off and it ceases, cleanly, with no ragged edges.

Simple, effective and beautifully engineered, it is no surprise the Le Mans Replica was a giant-killer in its day and that it continues to be competitive in contemporary Historic racing. It flatters the driver as it does not have to be bullied or cajoled into action. There is no understeer to deal with and oversteer is easy to control with a flick of the wrist. It might look very ‘period’ but it feels modern from behind the steering wheel.

A nice addendum is that John Melvin had not seen the car since his father sold it. Andrew and Peter invited him down from Scotland to their premises in London to have a look over the old thing. Melvin was impressed with its remarkably original condition and the sympathetic way the chaps had returned the car to its former glory. So much so, he sent them a trophy he won at Silverstone as well as the very special trophy from the Goodwood Nine Hours in ’53. A pretty cast-iron seal of approval from the original owner, methinks. Melvin knows the car is in good hands and I was touched by how much Andrew Hall loves the Le Mans Replica. Drive one and you will know why.

Thanks to Hall & Bradfield (+44 (0)20 7589 8787, www.hallandbradfield.co.uk); and Blakeney Motor Sport (+44 (0)1763 274100, blakeneybms@btinternet).com.