Maybe 'drove' isn't the right word. My first time driving a classic Beetle consisted more of giving it vague hints as to where I would prefer it go. The gearshift has more play than a number one draft pick, and the steering wheel doesn't so much have a dead spot on center as a dead revolution on center. The speedometer is disconnected, because, I kid you not, it was too noisy. This statement was delivered over the sounds the car makes at (guessing) 30 MPH, at a volume level normally reserved for communication in the pit of a thrash metal concert, yet with a straight face. Ventilation was minimal, so external visibility here in humid North Carolina was not a problem. There simply was none, through the opaque windows.
I have absolutely no idea how Mr. Torchinsky can actually drive this, much less autocross it. I'd either be at a dead stop, screaming at it, or reduced to a pile of blubber. Anyone who can actually drive this thing in anger must be either a God, or unspeakably badass.