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That was not the case in Europe, however, and it was here that Miller found his biggest supporters and made the runs that built an incredible career. Here is where the race fans were introduced to the impossible. The New Jerseyite's first trip overseas occured in 1978 and led to a dozen-year rampage where Miller went through standing start eighth-mile and quarter-mile records like a tornado. He designed, built, and drove all of his European tour cars, which included his "Vanishing Point" '78 Vega, the "Vanishing Point 2002" '81 Mustang, the '81 "Oxygen" dragster, and the "Vanishing Point 2003" Pontiac Trans Am in 1984. "In 1978, I had a friend who introduced me to Ragnar Egring, who worked at Pro Sport Management in Sweden," Miller recalled. "Egring was looking for an exhibition car and wanted to book me in for one date. Well, I couldn't go through all the hassle of getting the car on a ship and all the stuff you need to do to race in a foreign country just for one date. Finally, he booked me in for five dates and that's how I got introduced to the European fans, who were great. I mean you'd get like 15,000 of them at Santa Pod Raceway in Bedfordshire, England to see the car." Egring also was involved in Formula-1 racing and worked for Ronnie Petersen of Mario Andretti's John Player team. It was Miller's friendship with Petersen that produced a bizarre and tragic incident, one that probably gave him a moment's pause about racing his car. "I don't remember the reason why, but I went to see this clairvoyant just before going to a Formula-1 race," Miller recalled. "She told me that I had to stop racing or that I'd be killed and that the car would go round and round in circles before I met my end. Well, you don't like to hear stuff like that, but I shrugged it off. "Ronnie was racing at a Formula-1 race in Milan, Italy and I went with him and we ran into Mario and ... well, the whole atmosphere is electric at one of those races. The cars are really exotic. But for some reason, I felt sick, not sick to the stomach, but just real upset, and even though I had VIP seats and all that, I told the guys that I'd like to get out of there. "So I left for Switzerland, caught a ferry boat to England and tried not to think about this feeling. When I get back to England, I find out Ronnie had been killed at the race. The clairvoyant must've confused the two of us, which really got me going because I was also racing my rocket that weekend at Santa Pod for the first time." Miller dealt with Santa Pod owners Bob and son Roy Phelps, and the elder Phelps wanted to pay "Slammin' Sammy" $10,000 for the first 300-mph run in Europe. The New Jersey "Rocketman," which is the other nickname he's known by, wanted instead to get paid half that money and run a 4.60 or 4.70 at 260-mph. He then followed with an offer to run 300-mph the next year (1979) for the other half of the money and four dates. Phelps was set in his ways, but finally caved in. Miller's "Vanishing Point" Vega brought the 15,000-peopled house down that day with a 4.30 at 292-mph. From that moment forward, Miller became one of the most anticipated drag racers on the continent. "I could book 20 to 30 dates a year and for the next ten years we really rolled," Miller said. "Not every record I set was in Europe, though. I was at Lake George in Glen Falls, New York in 1981 and we put blades on the "Oxygen" dragster making it an ice sled and I ran that record 1.67-second time at 247-mph." Miller's European exploits are unlike those of any racer anywhere. The only opponent he had to deal with was himself and it was always in an ultimate "can you top this?" format. Consequently, you'll rarely, if ever, find copy that reads "on such and such a date, Miller ran a 4.22 to beat whatshisname." Miller's conquests are best expressed numerically and in simple declarative sentences. Below are just a few of Miller's remarkable feats.
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