L Kimbrel
EF0
My first chase was spur of the moment, by myself, in '98. Backed out of the garage and there was an F-2 due west on the horizon, maybe 20 miles, heading northeast. Ran back in, grabbed my camera, jumped back in the car -- no film. Made a frantic but fruitless dig for a roll I KNEW was in my purse. By then the tornado had vanished into a rain curtain. I headed north and made it about 3 miles before I hit blinding rain, and suddenly realized with horror that I was driving the first new car I had ever owned straight into a probable hailstorm. Back to the house to get the old beater 4WD, but it was gone - my son had it off somewhere. My husband was gone with the other truck, too. I made one more stab north, but ended up sitting down at the corner on the county line with a county sheriff who was as far north as he could go, too. I just didn't have the guts to get any farther away from my garage with that shiny new ride.
The tornado left a continuous track for 20+ miles, tore up a hog-farrowing operation, farmhouses and machine sheds, wrapped sheet metal around a combine tight as tin foil, and killed a semi driver at a rest area. The sheriff and I never saw a thing. All the action was hidden behind a heavy rain curtain a few miles to the north. That first chase was a total bust -- no pictures, nothing. I got extra credit the next day, when I reached in my bag for something, and the first thing I pull out? TWO rolls of film. Pathetic.
The tornado left a continuous track for 20+ miles, tore up a hog-farrowing operation, farmhouses and machine sheds, wrapped sheet metal around a combine tight as tin foil, and killed a semi driver at a rest area. The sheriff and I never saw a thing. All the action was hidden behind a heavy rain curtain a few miles to the north. That first chase was a total bust -- no pictures, nothing. I got extra credit the next day, when I reached in my bag for something, and the first thing I pull out? TWO rolls of film. Pathetic.