For the next four weeks, CompetitionPlus.com will conduct its third annual War Stories Showdown. The veterans of yarn spinning are paired for what promises to be a series destined to produce the finest behind-the-scenes stories.

Here are the rules –

The field was seeded by reader vote. The participants are paired on the standard NHRA professional eliminations ladder. Each story represents an elimination run for the participant. The readers will judge each war story on the merits of (A) believability and (B) entertainment value. Please do not vote based on popularity. You are the judge and jury, so vote accordingly. Multiple votes from the same computer IP address will not be counted.

Voting lasts for three days per elimination match. Once a driver advances to the next round, they must submit a new war story.

This is an event based on fun and entertainment value, and the rules are simple. The stories cannot describe any felonious acts (unprosecuted, that is) and you can't use a story about your opponent, against them. There is a one event win rule.

This is drag racing with no red-lights, disqualifications and plenty of oil downs minus the clean-ups. Please enjoy as each of our competitors tell their own stories.

Let the competition begin -

RACE COMPLETED - #4 PAT MUSI (53.93) DEF. #2 "DIESEL" LOUIS FORCE (46.07)

No. 2 Louis Force  vs. No. 4 Pat Musi

NO. 2 QUALIFIER – “DIESEL” LOUIS FORCE
TO THIS POINT
FIRST RD. - (65.28) def. #15 Don Gillespie (34.72)
SECOND RD. - (53.12) def. #10 Gordie Bonin (46.88)

WAR STORIES CLAIM TO FAME – Once Wrestled His Brother Through A Hotel Wall …

TELLING THE STORY OF: DO YOU WANT A GREEN ONE OR A BROWN ONE?

It was '77 or 78 and Steve Plueger, Roy Mayhews, Bob Fisher, John Force and I were racing in Gainesville. You might have seen on TV where Force rolled out of the car in the shutdown area. The car was still going 70 miles per hour when he rolled out of it. Luckily, he got hung up in the window and the parachute had come around the car for whatever reason drug him down the track a little ways. Anyway, he got out.

John was as green as a cocktail olive in those days. The truth is, it was a battle just getting him in and out of the car and just hoping he would do something right getting to the other end.

The fire was bigger on John than it was on the race car and the car was burned to the ground. It was done. We were all depressed and Plueger comes up. The only thing we accomplished that weekend besides burning the car to the ground was destroying a case of instant hot noodles. Plueger retreated immediately with the first guy going to the airport and left us on the corner.

We started to head back home. First we were going to go to LA. Then we got to thinking about how long the trip was going to be, torturous actually, because John never shuts up. He talks constantly. He's rebuilding the car in his head without anything more than the dreams of getting it done.

I drive most of the way, as usual. We decided we were going to Jolly Rancher instead. We get into Missouri and everybody wakes up and they’re all starving. We empty our pockets, and this is not s***, I will never forget it, together we have eight dollars and thirty cents and we're still a day and a half out of Denver. We always run on a credit card for gas and oil so that wasn't a problem. But, we were starving.

Now Roy Mayhew is a packrat. If you rolled him around long enough you'd find a bag of potato chips or a candy bar becomes he rat holed everything. So, the first thing we did was stop on the side of the road, take Roy out and take all his clothes off to make sure he wasn't hiding anything.

Now Roy was the kind of guy that every time you talked to him, you wanted to kill him. He was the nicest guy in the world and the hardest working guy in the world. But, this guy was dumber than a box of bolts. He had no common sense at all.

Anyway, we get into Missouri and we pull off to get gas. There is this little ole Mom-and-Pop gas station with a dirt driveway. I went inside with John. It was like stepping back in time. I look around and there are deer heads on the walls, even pig heads on the wall. They had slabs of bacon hanging on ropes and right next to the bacon were the fly catchers, you know the kind you unwind and hang up. We're thinking we better be careful.

They have this little deli counter. Not like today. It was like the 40's. This place had wooden floors and the old guy working in there had a sleeveless t-shirt on. When I first saw him I thought he was a mummy. I thought it was part of the act because he didn't move. Finally I flagged him over and said, “You got any baloney?”

And he said, “Matter of fact, I do. Around here we call that “Pony Tater” because it's a poor man's steak.”

I said, “Okay, whatever you call it let's see it.”

So he rolls that baloney out. It was the smallest diameter baloney I had ever seen, but it was three feet long.

In them days you could buy a loaf of bread for thirty-five cents. So, we bought two loaves of bread, two bottles of mustard and about six dollars of this baloney. We couldn't afford cheese. Then I told him if there was any change left I needed to buy about 10 or 15 feet of his wrapping paper.

We had a dually truck with a sleeper on it. Now, you know that sleeper wasn't for sleeping. It was where you tossed your luggage and magazines. But they do have two skinny mattresses in there, and with the truck not being shut off for more than five minutes before we hit Denver the air conditioner kept the sleeper fairly cool.

So, what we had the guy slice that baloney into quarter inch slices and we lifted up the top mattress, laid down the wrapping paper, laid out the two loaves of bread and put down one row of bread and squeezed out mustard on the bread. Then I took the baloney and dealt it out like cards on the bread, put down another line of mustard, another row of bread and another roll of paper.

We figured this would get us to Denver, no problem. What we didn't know was the transmission was going to quit on us. We got up there in the panhandle of Oklahoma, almost into lower Colorado and the truck takes a s***. Well, we had been gnawing on these baloney sandwiches. It worked real good, lift up the mattress and grab a baloney sandwich.

Now we got pretty busy trying to chase down parts, going to wrecker yards and trading oil. We were there for a full day and now overnight the heat's on. It has turned to summer in Colorado. Even thought it was late March going into April it is hotter than the entrance to Hell. After a day and a half we finally get the transmission full of enough snake oil into this thing to get us to Denver.

We got out of the panhandle, John's driving and I'm exhausted because John isn't mechanically inclined. Well, he says, “Diesel, we got anything left to eat back there?”

I reached back there and lifted up the mattress and guess what, there was something under there that looked like something between a naked cabbage patch and a chia pet. Some of those sandwiches looked like green footballs and others looked like old dirty potatoes.

He says, “What you got?”

I said, “Well, it appears we have either green ones or brown ones.”

He said, “Green ones or brown ones? What are you talking about?”

I said, “The sandwiches.”

He said, “What's a green one?”

I said, “Well, it's either very new cheese or really old meat.”

He said, “Hand it to me.”

He took it, he looked at it and he said, “I'm not eating.”

Well, the guy I told you was a goofball, Roy, he took the sandwich and starting eating it. He took two bites and John reached over and took it away from him.

And, that's how we got to Denver. I will never forget the green and brown sandwiches. It was hard times.


NO. 4 QUALIFIER – PAT MUSI
TO THIS POINT:
FIRST RD – (61.68) def. #14 Jim Rockstad (38.32)
SECOND RD - (50.4) def. #6 Gary Densham (49.6)

WAR STORIES CLAIM TO FAME – ONE OF NEW JERSEY’S HOLLYWOOD KNIGHTS

TELLING THE STORY OF: THE GREAT MASQUERADE CONTEST

Before we begin telling the story, I want to point out the players in this war story. The lovely Linda Vaughn, former NHRA Division Director Lex Dudas, a current NHRA Pro Stock team owner who shall remain nameless for obvious reasons, a crew guy whom we dressed up as a female, Reid Whisnant and his sons [who are big enough to play pro football] and a group of G. I. Joe bouncers. Somewhere along the line I was in the middle with my crew, big Jersey boys.

I always ended up in the middle of these kinds of situations. Just ask Rickie Smith and Roy Hill, they’ll tell you.

So it was October, mid-1980s, and we were at the NHRA World Finals. The hotel bar was going to have a Halloween costume contest.

Of course, we lost one of our key players early in the night, the Pro Stock team owner who is a hound dog. We had this young boy on our team and the girls dressed this guy up as a girl. I mean I have to say this fella looked pretty hot. He had eyeliner, the wig and everything.

My one bit of advice to the kid is to not let “Mr. Hound” touch your hands or the masquerade is over.

We had it going good until in a quick moment, Mr. Lover reached down and grabbed the kid’s hands, which were like catcher’s mitts. That one ended rather abruptly and our friend slipped out of there rather quickly. Of course, we were laughing our butts off. He was cussing us out.

Now Miss Linda was part of our group, and let me tell you…she made one helluva Elvira. I mean to the tee, she was hot dressed up as Elvira, black wig and all.

Now with this costume contest, the winner was determined by crowd applause. To put it simply, she was winning or we were going to clear that bar with the worst fight they’d ever seen.

We admittedly got a little loud and boisterous at times.

That got the bouncer’s attention, and he makes his way over, dressed all up like G. I. Joe with kung fu grip. You can see it in his eyes; he’s coming over there to show off how tough he is. Now if you’ve seen any of my other stories, you’ll know that isn’t always the wisest thing to do.

Reid Whisnant appoints me the spokesman for the group.

So here’s how it starts.

GI Joe says: You guys are gonna have to keep it down or we are going to throw you out.

I looked behind me, looked around and offered, “Listen man, you need to go get some help. You need to go get your whole crew or get the f*** out of here.”

GI Joe didn’t like that and walked away.

I can tell you that we didn’t get any quieter. In fact, once the contest started, a few of us went around and let the other tables know that it would be in their best interests to vote for the lovely Elvira.

Honestly, she didn’t need our help – but we offered it anyway.

There’s nothing like a good insurance policy.

The time passes and we get louder with each passing moment.

Here comes G. I. Joe again and he’s got three of his buddies.

I took the diplomatic approach.

I didn’t even look behind me and said, “Look man, I told you. You need to get some help, you are in deep s*** here. You need to get the f*** out of here. I don’t know how long I can hold these boys back.”    

G. I. Joe and his buddies look at the group, and Reid’s boys, and they walk on back.

It’s about that time the fighters and the politicians separate themselves. Lex leans over and whispers, “Pat, I can’t get involved in this. The NHRA will fire me.”

I looked at him and said, “Listen, we’re getting ready to fight here. Do you understand that? We need every man we can get here. I told G. I.  Joe to go get more help and he’s coming back with re-enforcements, I promise you that.

“Don’t you run off … we need to vote for Linda too. You ain’t going nowhere, I don’t care if you get fired or not.”

Ole Lex is s******* his pants about now.

He was freaking out about how we were going to get him in trouble and I ask you, what did he expect in going out with us?

It could have been worse for him; we could have had Roy Hill.

So there goes Linda up on the stage.

The place comes unglued.

She wins the deal hands down.

And then out of the corner of my eye, here comes G. I. Joe and he’s got about a half-dozen soldiers with him.

This time, they walk in there and not only did I stand up, everyone in the whole group does as well. I didn’t want to fight, but the boys did. G. I. Joe kinda wanted some action.

He just didn’t know how bad those boys were itching to wail on him.

So we’re standing there, the situation is getting tense and I look over at Lex and he’s crawled under the table with a handkerchief over his head.

I said, “What the…? Don’t go anywhere we’re fighting.”

I’m trying to talk G. I. Joe out of making a big mistake.

Then Reid’s oldest boy got up and said, “Pat … just slap him. Slap him and let us take care of it.”

I’m stuck in the middle of that big boy and G. I. Joe, who is shaking. I could tell he was scared to death.

“Just slap him,” they keep hollering.

G. I. Joe pulls me to the side, “Guys could you just tone it down a little?”

So just to recap, the Pro Stock team owner; missed all the fun because the dude looked like a lady.

Linda won the contest, in a landslide.

And Lex, well he finally came out from under that table.

{Voting Completed}

The winner of this event advances to the final round.

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