There’s not a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. It’s a McDonald’s.
After looking at the forecast and model data at 4:30 a.m., I was wondering if I’d be wasting a day of vacation to chase this storm system. The Tulsa area was getting rain. Just rain. It’s not exciting to chase rain and it appeared the rain would continue all day.
I began planning my mid-morning and mid-afternoon naps.
My vacationed morning continued to burn away and the rain continued to fall, but the forecasts were changing. Unstable air in southeast Oklahoma caused concern for weather professionals and risk levels were being raised.
While keeping a watch on the radar and forecasts, I sipped my cup of coffee and — just in case — made sure the camera gear was charged up and ready. You know, just in case. I wasn’t getting my hopes up, but things were beginning to turn around.
At noon I decided to head south so I’d be closer to the action if something should develop. I got ready and moved the equipment from my living room floor to the truck and headed out. After getting gassed up and stopping for lunch (I wasn’t in a big hurry) I took another look at the radar and noticed something new. Tornado watches were being issued in north Texas and southern Oklahoma.
At one o’clock I was on my way south. Target area: Atoka County.
More Rain
Driving south, all I could see around me was rain. For nearly two hours: light rain, heavy rain, out-right downpours. I didn’t care. I was on my way to play in the watch box with the other chasers.
Bob’s
When travelling, I like to look at the small towns and take inventory of what sustains the local economy — the antique stores, roadside diners, farm implement dealers, fruit stands and such. And there’s always one unusual enterprise that catches my eye.
At the side of the road was a sign. The letters were hand brushed with black paint on a very large piece of unfinished weathered plywood, “Bob’s Good Junk.” I imagined “Bob” living in a million dollar estate on the edge of town, shipping his good junk all over the world. I haven’t Googled it yet, but I’m sure he has an e-store where you can buy a dented hubcap for a Desoto. Good junk.
I didn’t stop.
The tornado watch box was moving north and it now included my target and the city of Atoka.
Atoka
Atoka is a nice little city. It’s not too small and not too big. Not much to see, sightseeing wise, but it was nice. I toured the downtown area of older buildings, probably from the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. I looked for one of
those hole-in-the-wall diners that are often located in a historic downtown area. You know, a local favorite where you can almost see a town resident sitting there eating his supper after a long day on the farm. I didn’t find one.
I did, however, find that stop signs in Atoka are only a suggestion. A near miss.
It’s always a good idea to keep a gas tank full when you’re out chasing, so I stopped at the convenience store/gas station next to the Wal Mart. Yep, they have a Wal Mart.
$3.59 per gallon. Damn oil companies.
My plan was to hang around Atoka until the storms moved north and to me. But, tornado warnings were being issued southwest of Durant now and I didn’t want to wait any longer. My chase had quickly turned into a quest!
South of Atoka, I spotted developing storm clouds to the west. I left the main highway and drove down a gravel road past multi-million dollar houses (one of them had to be Bob’s) and followed the curving road around the trees, allowing a better look. The clouds were darkening and getting bigger, but they weren’t severe yet.
With the help of “Microsoft Mary”, the GPS system voice, I found my way back to the southbound lanes of the highway.
The NWS was now reporting heavy rain, hail and 60 mph winds in the storms to the south of me.
Caddo
I arrived at the Dairy Queen at Caddo just before it hit, and hit it did. The truck rocked violently and, at one point, I thought the wind was going to push the F150 back down the hill.
Why would they build a Dairy Queen on top of a hill in tornado alley?
Caddo is very small. No, I mean very very small. Population: 950. The area of the city covers a whole 2-1/2 square miles. I actually got a little nervous when a patrol cruiser with the words “Caddo Police” printed on the side slowly drove by. The gruff looking town constable locking in on the stupid storm chaser sitting on top of a hill during a severe thunderstorm. You know, deliverance nervous.
Marking their property line, Caddo has a rusting steel mesh “Welcome to Caddo” sign high above the ground curving across the road, supported on both sides with the same steel mesh material. The kind of drive-through structure seen at the entrance of an old cemetery. There’s my sign.
I got the hell out of Dodge…ummm…Caddo.
I travelled down highway 22 for quite a while before I felt safe again. Safe from the winds on the hill, and safe from the possible 1880’s style incarceration. And even though I’d turned right to avoid the storms, I drove right into the heaviest rains I’ve ever experienced. At this point I just wanted to get to Hugo, connect with the Indian Nation Turnpike, and go home.
Tornado warnings were issued. But, they weren’t issued for Bryan County. The warnings were for Tulsa.
The Journey Home
By the time I arrived at the turnpike entrance, the rains had stopped. I rolled down the window and took a deep breath of the rain scented fresh air that filled the cab. I turned off the weather band on the CB I’d listened to for several hours and enjoyed the peace and serenity I planned to sustain for my journey back home.
As the sun began to set behind the remaining shards of clouds, I pulled into the Turnpike McDonald’s, parked and called Tulsa. A squall line had developed and was moving through the Tulsa area producing rain, strong winds and, yes, tornadoes.
I counted four other storm chase vehicles on the lot. The occupants were probably discussing the “bust run” they’d just been on. Was it a bust?
During my drive home I thought about chasing and why I don’t really consider myself a hard-core “tornado chaser.” Although the target is usually a tornado warned area, I don’t think the actual tornado is why I do what I do.
Witnessing an Oklahoma sunset mixing with the remnants of a powerful storm reminded me of the reasons I chase.
I chase storms to explore the small towns in rural America, to meet the real people who reside in them, and to find beauty in a storm’s violence. This day, I had accomplished all of that.