Autocross in My 1985 Corvette Went Far Better than Expected

As those who have the “pleasure” of listening to me ramble in person might be annoyed to hear, one of my favorite one-liners is “it takes all types to make a world.” I often use this as a stand-in for simply saying that how someone else chooses to do a task is not the way I would have done it. It’s not good or bad, just different than what I would do. Last weekend, I went against my own sensibilities and took my 1985 Corvette to a local autocross event to see just how much fun I could have and how quickly I could go with the tired 120,000-mile car. The answer surprised me, but didn’t come without consequences.

For starters, I’m a person who loves track time. Unfortunately, my heart and wallet are often in disagreement about the value of track time. So when a flyer was left in my driver’s seat about an autocross event happening just two miles from my driveway with a comically low $35 per-day entry fee, both heart and wallet were finally in full syncromesh. The only problem was a lack of an appropriate car.

Even as the most approachable form of motorsports, autocross has technical and safety requirements, a few of which were unwelcoming to my 1965 Chevrolet Corvair. I really love my Corvair as it sits, but the lap-belt-only restraint combined with an unbolstered seat and solid steering shaft makes the car less than ideal for modern motorsports. I love to drive the Corvair—on the street. The amount of modifications I would want to do to feel comfortable autocrossing the Corvair would change it more than I want to. So when I bought my 1985 Corvette last fall, I saw the opportunity.

The Corvette is well-worn, but when I saw that the technical inspection for this autocross event boiled down to tires not showing cords, battery restrained with OE or better hold down, me having a helmet, and not much more, I realized my black targa would be perfect. I no longer had an excuse to stay home. So I registered online, did an oil change and brake fluid flush, and drove out to the baseball field parking lot to be greeted by a field of Michigan’s state flower—traffic cones. And plenty of them.

After sailing through tech inspection with my taped-on car numbers and class designation, a quick driver’s meeting confirmed the run schedule for the day. Each of the three run groups also has to work for one of the other run groups, helping with staging cars or resetting cones between runs. It was pure luck that I was put into the third run group and was positioned in the center of the track, flagging for the first group. It gave me a great view to see how things worked and also how drivers with more experience took the course.

A lot could be learned from spectating, but there is no replacement for time in the driver’s seat. The sky was spitting rain off and on all morning while the temperature struggled to get above 55 degrees. While this all but ensured the Corvette wouldn’t overheat even with its broken front air dam, it also made sure that the high-performance summer Bridgestones were not going to be happy. Before the driver’s meeting, I walked the course with a friend who regularly autocrosses his C5, and even with the big layout, I had dedicated most of it to memory before I rolled up to the start line. Sitting and waiting for the car in front of me to get about halfway through their run, I mentally ran the course in my head, and right when I opened my eyes, the guy in charge of starting waved his hand and said, “You’re good to go.”

I got the clutch out and put my right foot down, grabbed a quick shift to second, and settled in for a rodeo ride. A tame rodeo ride. With no experience, my goal was just to make a clean run, not getting lost as I used the pointer cones to navigate the multiple slalom sections and tight switchback corners. The Corvette rolled and pitched more than it ever had in my ownership, even more than those times I tried to set the record for fastest pass through the new roundabout in town. Squealing tires told me that my requests for both braking and steering at the same time were not only foolish but detrimental to a smooth and quick run. Regardless, 68 seconds after leaving the starting line, my front tires tripped through the timing beams at the finish. I looked over to the timing tent and got a thumbs up, confirming I hadn’t taken out any cones or cut the course. Back around to the staging lanes to make some mental adjustments and get prepared for my remaining four runs.

With each clutch drop from the starting line, I had my fingers crossed that the bone-stock and barely prepared Corvette wouldn’t snap a ball joint or push a head gasket out from between the head and the block. Even when I was “taking it easy” on the early runs, this was clearly the hardest this particular car had been driven. But at the end of each run, the gauges leveled out, and despite my picking up the pace with each run, there were no new clunks or hiccups. I’d bet my relative novice inputs were actually harder on the car than what a better driver would do. Despite the hard braking and wide-open pulls for most of the afternoon, the Corvette happily drove home at the end of the day with no signs of anything bad or broken.

Having been lucky enough to try a few different forms of motorsport over the last few years, there is no question in my mind that autocross is far and away the most approachable. The atmosphere was laid back all day, and everyone I talked to was both kind and helpful. Even a small amount of interest would have drivers offering the right seat of their car for a ride, something I leveraged heavily on the second day when the course switched directions. I also took advantage of the ability to double-enter the car with two drivers. My friend Tim loaned me one of his cars to participate in a bump-n-run race last fall, so I repaid the favor by tossing him the keys to try autocross for the first time in my Corvette.

It also meant I got to ride passenger for his six runs. We alternated driving, each picking up a little from the other and debriefing after each run between the two of us. We both spun the Corvette multiple times, and Tim even took out a few cones in one spectacular rotation near the finish line, and the only consequence was a little rubber scuffed off the tires.

Interestingly, a large takeaway from the weekend was that the Corvette as it sits and I were pretty well matched. I had convinced myself I needed a host of performance suspension bits before really wheeling the ‘Vette, and yet, at the end of two days, I found that the car was faster than me in stock form, and I would likely be better putting my cash into entry fees than fancy suspension. It was humbling to go out with what looks like a rough car and find that nothing on the car was holding me back; I was holding myself back. Maybe I’ll find the limit of the Corvette one day and will likely put a few fun parts on it at that time, but between here and there, I’ve got a lot of learning and even more driving to do.