Monday, May 30, 2011

Elbow Lake/Wendell MN. 5/30/2011

"Oh why the hell not..."

That's what I said to myself this afternoon as I quickly assembled my chase apparatus in response to a "Moderate" Risk of severe weather over a fair portion of west central MN. the western Dakotas, and Nebraska.

The thinking was, as I sat in my driveway pondering the setup, that this weekend I celebrated my 50th year of life. Had a wonderful time with family and friends, and had celebrated in grandiose fashion as anyone turning the age of fifty should.

So this could be the icing on the proverbial cake? Could the final day of my birthday weekend hold a successful chase in the cards? Something I could share with the grand kids when I turn 90?


OK. to be fair the setup was iffy right from the start. That tornadoes COULD occur during the early stages of initiation but storms that fired would line up very quickly into a squall line shitstorm shutting down any hopes of seeing a birthday wedge.

I didn't care. It was my birthday damn it. Karma would prevail and send a tube my way from an unending field of dirt where nothing fell into it's path except me of course.

I would have been fine just sitting at home letting the few remaining hours tick off inactively thinking about work or some such shit. I had to tempt fate however, and make a 376 mile trip into bustville. Plenty of chasers out and about, aligning their plans and hoping they pan out.

Me? I just point the truck to the northwest and figured God would intercede at the exact moment. Some two hundred miles from my driveway.

In a little town in Northwest Minnesota called Wendell, the message was sent...

Stop here. Wait and see...

Some divine message. Seemed like good a place as ever to stop without getting all rooted up into going North Dakota way, Or South Dakota. Take your pick.

No, the reasoning was simple. An old dear friend I'd grown up with lived in that small burg of a town. And I thought, the REAL end to my birthday weekend should be to pull up at his home, wrap on his door, and say hello since it had been a year or more since I'd last seen him.

The Son of a Bitch wasn't home.

And the storms turned into a linear mess just as expected.

And the chasers parade back down I94 just as they had done a few hours earlier.

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