In the week leading up to the third annual CompetitionPlus.com War Stories we will re-publish some of the finest moments from last two years competition. You'll hear some of the finest stories laid down in competition. The program works like this: 16 figures within the drag racing community are voted on by the readers of CompetitionPlus.com to determine who they feel could tell the best story. From that voting, an NHRA professional elimination ladder pairs the contestants and they battle it out until one is left.

Today's story comes from "Waterbed" Fred Miller, former marquee Blue Max crewman, a quarter-finalist in  last year's War Stories Showdown.

When you roll down the road with the likes of Raymond Beadle and “Jungle” Jim Liberman, if you don’t walk away with a story from either then something just isn’t right.

I can tell stories, and true ones, which will make you laugh so hard that you will cry – but they clearly won’t be PG-13. If I make it to the later rounds – then no one will be safe.

Back in the day with Beadle, you match raced to make a living. You raced at all kinds of places – some good, some bad and some really, really bad. We did over 100 dates our first season together.

When I first started out with Beadle and Harry Schmidt, we did a northwestern tour. One of those stops was at a small track in Oregon, I won’t name names.

This was a Bill Doner event and if you knew him, he put on the best races period. He was the definition of a promoter.

This particular night we had a match race with Jungle and two runs into the night, nothing appeared outside of the ordinary. There were lots of race fans there, which was usually the case, and we were thrashing to make our third run.

It was Harry Schmidt and myself working on the car.

We were working away and then Beadle comes running like a bat out of hell while still in his firesuit. Of course, Schmidt and I look at one another and then Beadle in a somewhat frantic but hushed tone tells us, “Load this thing up right now and get out of here.”

Obviously at this point something’s bad wrong here and we stop working. He emerges with his Levis and grabs his pistol, puts it in his firesuit and runs towards the tower.

About that time, you didn’t have to tell us twice.

Parts are flying and wrenches are scattering their way into the trailer, not to mention the car is quickly making its way into the trailer.

Keep in mind, we still don’t know what is going on and we haven’t heard any gunshots, so there is still time to escape.

We weren’t sure what had happened, but we conveyed the message to Jungle, who wasted no time packing up quickly.

Come to find out, the place is bursting at the seams with rabid race fans and there was a curfew that was going to cut out the third race. Well the fans at this place didn’t exactly look like the understanding type.

The crowd went upside down after paying a pretty high admission.

Beadle and Doner, being that they were Beadle and Doner, jumped in Doner’s helicopter and took off with all of the cash.

We fought our way through the crowd with the trucks and trailers and in the distance, we saw the tower ablaze. They had started a riot.

Meanwhile Beadle and Doner are out of there and we are trying to escape. We hauled ass out of there and got back to the hotel and they all split up the money.

But the fans didn’t realize that we did give them a third race.

The third race was who could get the rigs out of the track first without getting killed.

Needless to say we never raced there again.

By the way, for the record, we won the third round.