Behind the Wheel of a Greenwood-Type Corvette, Pt. I: Mid-Ohio IMSA GT, 1976

There I was, strapping into a 600-hp big-block, widebody Corvette for my first practice laps ahead of the six-hour IMSA GT race at Mid-Ohio in 1976. I knew that twisty, 2.4-mile course well, and liked it, but had never driven it in such a powerful car. My racing experience was mostly in smaller cars, including one season in a Triumph TR4A, two in my low-bucks Datsun 510, and three in a fun-but-scary old Winkelman Formula Ford open-wheeler. I had done reasonably well in all three, even winning some races, but had never experienced anything like this Corvette in professional competition.

Well, I had scored a couple of 1974 co-drives in an older, 427-powered SCCA Corvette at Watkins Glen and Road America, but those didn’t really count. At the ’74 Glen Six-Hour, I had gotten just a few tentative practice laps before the car’s owner crashed it on the fourth lap of the race. I then got more practice at Road America, another track I knew well, but the engine had failed before it was my turn to drive in the race. Finally, I had briefly tested Rick Hay’s bruiser of a car at the tight, 1.5-mile Detroit-area Waterford Hills track to get accustomed to it.

Hay’s car was built in the model of John Greenwood’s highly modified, wide-bodied Corvettes, which had proven to be brutally fast in 1970s’ IMSA GT competition. Rick Hay had done some work for John Greenwood, in fact, then built his own version on a much tighter budget. The car into which I had just strapped myself had undergone extensive improvements to aerodynamics, powertrain, and suspension, in the Greenwood style.

So, with that very limited experience in big-block ‘Vettes, I clunked the gearbox into first, let out the clutch, and accelerated down the pit lane toward Turn 1. I tip-toed around the first couple laps, gaining speed as my confidence built. Then, as I approached the medium-speed right-hand Turn 7 at the end of Mid-Ohio’s 160-mph back straight, I chose a large stripe on the inside guardrail as a likely spot to begin hard braking and downshifting for the turn. It was a poor choice—I was already in too deep.

As I stood on the brakes, struggling to keep the car pointed more-or-less straight, the corner rushed toward me, way too fast. The outside grass leads to a dirt bank on which many cars had been thoroughly disarranged through the years. I remembered what the owner and builder of the car—Rick Hay, my co-driver for the weekend—had told me as he had helped buckle me in: “I don’t care how fast you go, but whatever you do, don’t get off course!” Even a slight agricultural excursion could tear up the low front bodywork, cut an expensive tire, or worse.

I grabbed third gear and eased out the clutch for compression braking. The engine roared, the rear tires lost grip, and the car fishtailed. Another quick downshift, with brakes still full on, brought more gyrations. Then I was out of room. It was either go straight off or try for the corner and risk a spin, which seemed the better choice … unless a car behind couldn’t stop and nailed me.

Still hard on the brakes, I steered toward the inside apex. The front tires gripped just enough, but the rears started sliding out. I eased back on the gas, steered left, and power-slid through. In my left mirror, I saw the puff of dirt sent up by my outside rear tire on the exit. Whew! It took another couple of laps before I caught my breath and started looking for a better braking point for that turn. I never did go into it as deeply as I could—better safe than sorry.

Limited Budget

Even back in 1976, it took serious money to build and race a competitive IMSA Camel GT car, and most successful competitors did it with heavy sponsorship, family money, or both. Yet 29-year-old fabricator and body/paint man Rick Hay had been running surprisingly well. With a Bill King 427 V-8 and powertrain provided by Tracy Performance in Roseville, Michigan, and help from his wife and friends, his low-budget Corvette was as well-prepped as any but handicapped by stock brakes and steel wheels instead of alloys. He had been running fourth overall at the earlier Talladega race and eighth at Pocono before bad luck dropped him to 16th and 10th, respectively.

Mid-Ohio is a challenging mix of tricky turns, hills, and not-quite straights. The short start/finish straight leads to the sweeping, 100-plus-mph left-hand Turn 1. We would touch 140 mph or so before slowing for the medium-speed right-left-left-right bus stop, followed by the hard-right, double-apex, Turns 4 and 5 “Keyhole” that leads onto that long back straight. Powering through second to third to fourth gear, we’d be streaking past slower cars on both sides but had to be exactly on-line for a right jog halfway down or risk collecting the outside rail. Our braking point for Turn 7 had to be well chosen—too early, we’d lose time, and someone would out-brake us into the turn. Too late, and … oh, s*** … as I had almost learned the hard way on that third practice lap.

Next comes the tough, off-camber Turn 8, which runs left up and over a hill and down the other side. Then it’s back on the gas, upshift, brake, downshift for the next right-left-right combo up another hill, where the suspension gets light and the car drifts sideways at the Turn 11 crest. That 90-degree right leads downhill into a fast, slightly curving straight where we again would gather a lot of speed before tearing up another hill, only to brake and downshift for 12, a fast left. Then comes the long-right Turn 13 “Carousel” leading to the left-jog 14 back onto the start/finish straight.

Unfortunately, Hay’s Corvette was set up for superspeedways like Daytona and Talladega, so it was at a disadvantage to the lighter, more agile Porsches, BMWs, and (hand-built, tube-frame) Chevy Monzas at Mid-Ohio. The Corvette’s big-block power was awesome, its Greenwood/Bob Riley–designed suspension gave it excellent cornering skills, and its big-downforce body kit kept it stable and planted at speed.

The brakes … not so much. We could blow by nearly everyone on the straights but had to brake well before others did and watch them charge back past us going into turns. And we had more traction from our huge rear tires than from the smaller fronts, which meant tire-scrubbing understeer under power. Chassis and tire-pressure adjustments helped, but Rick qualified at just 1:42.9, 19th on the grid of 48. The fastest GT cars could lap at a bit over 1:30, averaging nearly 100 mph. Still, we figured we would move up during the three-hour event through mistake-free driving and his car’s reliability.

Green Flag

The green flag waved, and 48 fired-up drivers slammed on the gas and swept two and three abreast into Turn One. Rick ran well in the early laps, and we harbored hopes of working our way into the top 10 before it was my turn to drive. But he made a mistake trying to pass a car going into Turn 1 and took a fast tour through the outside grass. Next time around, he hit the pits so our crew could check for damage. Everything was fine, so he powered back out, well down in 29th place.

The rest of the first hour passed uneventfully as Rick worked his way back into the top 20, then it was time for a fuel and driver-change stop. My turn! The crew refueled, checked everything they could, and cleaned the windshield while Rick scrambled out and helped me buckle in. “The car is fine,” he yelled in my ear. “Just take it easy and keep it on the track.”

The big-block roared to life, the crew chief signaled ready, and I blasted off down the pit lane onto the track. It took a couple laps to get comfortable and settle into a rhythm. Another Corvette came up behind me. I thought about racing him but let him go instead—no use risking a mistake before I was fully dialed in. The crew was signaling from time to time while I was blasting by slower traffic at a high rate of speed. Some cars saw me coming and moved right over. Others didn’t.

I caught the Corvette I had let by and started looking for a way around, but he saved me the trouble by dashing into the pits. Then I found myself racing Warren Agor’s Monza, with co-driver Peter Knapp at the wheel. Agor’s car had crashed at Pocono the week before and had been hurriedly rebuilt for Mid-Ohio, and Knapp was fighting handling problems. I got by when he made a mistake, but he passed me back. Then he made another mistake, and I passed again. But he got things under control, got by me again, and motored away. I couldn’t stay with him anymore, but by now, I was having a wonderful time racing this powerful Corvette. My last bit of nervousness was gone.

Sour Luck

Then I noticed a vibration in the left-rear wheel. I thought maybe it had thrown a balance weight, so I tried not to worry. But the shaking got worse, and the car started feeling strange in right-hand turns. Was it a chunking tire or something loose in the suspension? Either could be big trouble in a fast corner. There was nothing to do but check into the pits.

Our crew quickly found the problem: Two left-rear wheel nuts were gone and their studs broken off. They decided to mount a soft-treaded rain tire in place of the wider slick because it was on a thinner-section wheel, which allowed the two broken studs to stick through just enough to get lug nuts started on them. Rick got belted in and back on course, at a slightly reduced pace.

It would be risky to finish the race that way, since the car was tricky to drive on one rain tire and three slicks. Additionally, two of the nuts were barely on and the other three studs might break off at any time. But the fact that a rain tire doesn’t generate as much traction as a slick on dry pavement actually worked in our favor, since it put less stress on those broken left-rear studs. It was a big gamble, but Rick was determined to finish and take home as much prize money as possible.

The next hour went fine as we waited and watched nervously in the pits. I learned that my best laps had been in the 1:40s (1:46 … 1:44 …1:42)—as quick as Rick had qualified and run early in the race. It felt good to know that he and his team were happy with my debut performance, and that I would get to drive the Corvette with Hay two weeks later at Road Atlanta. And we had been up to 12th place before the stop …

With just a few laps to go, our luck went south. We watched in horror as our Corvette spun wildly to the outside coming out of Turn 14 onto the start/finish straight. Its right-rear wheel bounded over the outside guardrail, then back over it and across the track before coming to rest against the pit rail. Rick steered the three-wheeled Vette off the outside of the track without hitting anything, climbed out, and forlornly watched the last 10 minutes of the race.

We had been up as far as eighth before that wheel flew off. The incident dropped us to 22nd in the final scoring, so there would be little prize money to take home. It turned out that one of the right-rear studs had broken, and the remaining four had let the steel wheel flex until its center had pulled out. Inspection of the original left-rear revealed that it, too, was cracked and probably would have failed the same way had I not come in when I did. FYI, Jim Busby won the race in a Porsche.

Fun while it lasted, and we had Road Atlanta in two weeks. Maybe we’d do better with better wheels and brakes?

To read how Gary’s Corvette adventures unfolded at Road Atlanta, check out Part II of the story here.