Tim Vasquez
EF5
- Joined
- Dec 4, 2003
- Messages
- 3,411
I was going through some really files in my C64 archives and was amused to find this... written in November 1988. Hopefully this is not something I already posted and forgot about.
I'm kind of astonished that I foresaw a 70 mph speed limit, as 55-65 mph limits were in effect most places back in 1988 and Oklahoma didn't get 70 mph until 1995. What I didn't foresee is that 5/7/2011 was actually a down day, and I don't think I foresaw the Internet and how it would change the morning map routine and allow us to compare forecasts with one another.
Tim
---------------
THE MAY 7, 2011 HAMMON STORM
By Tim Vasquez
The morning was gray and damp, a drab beginning to another spring day in Oklahoma City. Slowly recovering from a peaceful night of sleep, I stared out the window. It looked an awful lot like winter, but no one could expect much light at seven o'clock, and I knew that it was just as warm outside as it was in the house.
I walked over to my agent, a paralell-processing personal computer, virtually unsurpassed in speed by most supercomputers 20 years ago. Crossing my fingers, I asked, "Weather data". Fortunately, my agent had been instructed to retrieve all available data for North America every morning at 6:30 sharp, and sort it for me.
"Southern United States weather data, retrieved Saturday, May 7, 2011. Dryline indicated in eastern New Mexico. Low indicated over northwest Texas, central pressure 99.8 kilopascals. Front indicated in south Kansas and north New Mexico. Projected lifted indices from all 4 models minimum minus 11 over northwest Oklahoma. Please select data to print."
I glanced at the computer screen, and selected some maps displayed on a menu.
"Give me 1, 2, 4, 7, and 10," I mumbled.
"Invalid. Please select data to print."
At this time, I contemplated either programming the computer's voice recognitions with my sleepy morning accent, or politely introducing the computer to my axe. "Give me 1, 2, 4, 7, and 10," I said, rather clearly and condescendingly.
"Printing." The laser print hummed quietly to work as I went to the kitchen in search of breakfast.
I was westbound on Interstate 40 by noon, occasionally pushing a bit faster than the 70 mph speed limit. The car glided nicely down the highway while I frequently glanced upward at the cumulus towers, which replaced the bank of stratocumulus that I had left miles eastward. Already it was 86 degrees and I knew it would be getting warmer.
As I drove into Elk City around 2 o'clock, I could see a white layer in the sky past the cumulus towers--it was an anvil looming in the distance!
I anxiously picked up my videotape camera, powered it up, and pointed it southwest. Fortunately at this distance, no details would be lost--the high-definition video, now in widespread use, would make my footage at least four times clearer than that of chasers in years gone by. I decided it would be best to save my steroscopic splitter attachment for the wall cloud or tornado events, as I couldn't spare the extra tape speed required.
Another hour later, I was nearing the storm. I turned and headed north, to catch up with its northeastward progression.
By evening, a wall cloud had attached to the cloud base. I waited anxiously for the telltale signs of a tornado developing, but unfortunately I saw nothing more than an ominous funnel. Oh well, perhaps next time.
As the storm fell apart and turned into a giant rainstorm, I drove to the nearest restaurant in Shamrock and picked up some dinner. Ten bucks for a hamburger and a soft drink makes for a pretty cheap meal when out on the road like this. Unfortunately, about ten minutes from home, I had to change the tire--in the soaking squall line that had followed me eastward.
When I returned that night, I certainly was not exhausted. I spent another two hours playing my videotape footage to the agent computer, occasionally "grabbing" frames and sending them to the color printer. Perhaps I could edit the funnel to make it touch the ground--no one would notice. No--maybe not. If I'm that starved for a tornado, perhaps I should just browse through the April issue of Storm Track magazine I just got yesterday... the first 20 or 30 pages should be plenty to read.
I'm kind of astonished that I foresaw a 70 mph speed limit, as 55-65 mph limits were in effect most places back in 1988 and Oklahoma didn't get 70 mph until 1995. What I didn't foresee is that 5/7/2011 was actually a down day, and I don't think I foresaw the Internet and how it would change the morning map routine and allow us to compare forecasts with one another.
Tim
---------------
THE MAY 7, 2011 HAMMON STORM
By Tim Vasquez
The morning was gray and damp, a drab beginning to another spring day in Oklahoma City. Slowly recovering from a peaceful night of sleep, I stared out the window. It looked an awful lot like winter, but no one could expect much light at seven o'clock, and I knew that it was just as warm outside as it was in the house.
I walked over to my agent, a paralell-processing personal computer, virtually unsurpassed in speed by most supercomputers 20 years ago. Crossing my fingers, I asked, "Weather data". Fortunately, my agent had been instructed to retrieve all available data for North America every morning at 6:30 sharp, and sort it for me.
"Southern United States weather data, retrieved Saturday, May 7, 2011. Dryline indicated in eastern New Mexico. Low indicated over northwest Texas, central pressure 99.8 kilopascals. Front indicated in south Kansas and north New Mexico. Projected lifted indices from all 4 models minimum minus 11 over northwest Oklahoma. Please select data to print."
I glanced at the computer screen, and selected some maps displayed on a menu.
"Give me 1, 2, 4, 7, and 10," I mumbled.
"Invalid. Please select data to print."
At this time, I contemplated either programming the computer's voice recognitions with my sleepy morning accent, or politely introducing the computer to my axe. "Give me 1, 2, 4, 7, and 10," I said, rather clearly and condescendingly.
"Printing." The laser print hummed quietly to work as I went to the kitchen in search of breakfast.
I was westbound on Interstate 40 by noon, occasionally pushing a bit faster than the 70 mph speed limit. The car glided nicely down the highway while I frequently glanced upward at the cumulus towers, which replaced the bank of stratocumulus that I had left miles eastward. Already it was 86 degrees and I knew it would be getting warmer.
As I drove into Elk City around 2 o'clock, I could see a white layer in the sky past the cumulus towers--it was an anvil looming in the distance!
I anxiously picked up my videotape camera, powered it up, and pointed it southwest. Fortunately at this distance, no details would be lost--the high-definition video, now in widespread use, would make my footage at least four times clearer than that of chasers in years gone by. I decided it would be best to save my steroscopic splitter attachment for the wall cloud or tornado events, as I couldn't spare the extra tape speed required.
Another hour later, I was nearing the storm. I turned and headed north, to catch up with its northeastward progression.
By evening, a wall cloud had attached to the cloud base. I waited anxiously for the telltale signs of a tornado developing, but unfortunately I saw nothing more than an ominous funnel. Oh well, perhaps next time.
As the storm fell apart and turned into a giant rainstorm, I drove to the nearest restaurant in Shamrock and picked up some dinner. Ten bucks for a hamburger and a soft drink makes for a pretty cheap meal when out on the road like this. Unfortunately, about ten minutes from home, I had to change the tire--in the soaking squall line that had followed me eastward.
When I returned that night, I certainly was not exhausted. I spent another two hours playing my videotape footage to the agent computer, occasionally "grabbing" frames and sending them to the color printer. Perhaps I could edit the funnel to make it touch the ground--no one would notice. No--maybe not. If I'm that starved for a tornado, perhaps I should just browse through the April issue of Storm Track magazine I just got yesterday... the first 20 or 30 pages should be plenty to read.