Why SCCA Solo Nats? It's more than just autocrossing your car.

A gritty, gray, pockmarked expanse stretched away from me in every direction. A little bit like the surface of the moon, but smaller craters and taller American flags. 

A temporary city had sprung up on this barren wasteland in Lincoln, Nebraska. A city called the Tire Rack SCCA Solo National Championships. Somehow, I’d never been here before, so I parked my lunar rover (a rented Jetta) and set out to explore a whole new world.

I had a million excuses for why I’d never been to Nationals. At first, it was school, then college, then the unreliable schedule of a twentysomething, then my family, then professional obligations, then blah blah blah. 

The reality is, though, that I just didn’t understand it. Sure, I’d read our coverage of the event and knew it was autocrossing’s mecca. And sure, I’d watched the annual week of social media posts where every single one of my race car friends was at Nationals without me. 

And I’d grown up autocrossing, first in Formula Junior before monthly events in a string of different cars. Despite all this, and despite identifying as an autocrosser, I still just didn’t understand why so many people would suffer for a week in exchange for maybe 6 minutes of driving. 

Clearly there’s a reason, since by participation numbers, Nationals is the largest motorsports event in the world, with more than 1000 drivers. Yet it’s held on this pseudo-lunar expanse with no permanent infrastructure, no buildings, no running water, nothing. And no offense to Lincoln, but it’s not exactly New York City. I finally decided that to understand Nationals, I’d need to see it for myself.

The biggest hurdle was actually pretty easy to clear: finding a car, preferably a competitive one. I can’t thank Eric Sienkiewicz enough for inviting me to co-drive his Club Spec Mustang, meaning I didn’t have to worry about the hard part of Nationals: building, testing and sorting a car. 

[Love at First Drive: The SCCA Club Spec Mustang class]

Photography Credit: Tom Suddard

Instead, I’d be able to jump into Eric’s and focus on the experience instead of the build. Think I’m a lucky prima donna by doing this? Then ask the hundreds of other co-drivers at Nationals who reap the competitive and financial advantages of sharing a car. Co-driving at Nationals isn’t weird or imposing. It’s apparently the norm. Chatting in the paddock, I heard countless stories that boiled down to, “My friend needed a tire warmer, and I had enough PTO to come here. It’s the best week of my year.”

So right off the bat, everybody brings at least one friend with them. And because there’s no infrastructure, plenty of downtime and infinite paved paddock space, Nationals encourages what any gamer would describe as base building. 

Photography Credit: Tom Suddard

This year’s event was themed like the Wild West, so I saw plenty of golf carts dressed as wagons ferrying happy attendees between themed camps full of free food, drinks, games and happy people partying. “Automotive Burning Man” is a fair description of the vibe, and to the SCCA’s credit, they’ve gone out of their way to support and encourage these parties. 

Next to our home camp was a group of formula car folks that hosted a free spaghetti dinner for everybody. We also had a camp of Honda racers transforming a street del Sol into a race del Sol in real time. One of my highlights of the week: gutting its driver-side door with an angle grinder at midnight, proving Nationals is far more than just a big autocross. 

Photography Credit: Tom Suddard

Oh, right, the racing. Nationals is, of course, built around a giant autocross course. Two of them, in fact, plus a practice course and a tire-scrubbing area. 

And while the paddock is all fun and games (literally), the racing is as serious as anything this side of an F1 paddock. Maybe it’s a little jarring to switch from communal dinners to knife’s-edge rule book fights and trophies separated by hundredths of a second before going right back to communal dinners, but it was thrilling, rewarding and motivating–I’ll describe Nationals’ dichotomy as jumping from a hot tub into a snowbank and back for a racer’s brain. 

And no, I didn’t win–a mid-pack finish in class humbled my trophy shelf of local awards, but Eric took home a trophy in our class. As it turns out, the best autocrossers in the world are actually pretty good. (Hi, Tom O’Gorman!) I’m not sure I’ll ever be one of them, but I am sure of one thing: After years of not understanding, I finally get why Nationals sells out every single year. I’ll see you all there in 2025. 

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