When I was young and fairly certain I would live forever, we used to storm chase, back when television in a small town was only the three network channels, back long before cell phones, back when, if one spotted something, one would look for the nearest sheriff's deputy at an intersection and tell him about it, and nothing more.
One Saturday my pal and I saw, across a valley and about three miles away, a very small tornado - it looked slim, graceful - chipping away at a hillside, almost elegantly dipping down.
We did notify that deputy then for some reason took the lake road instead of the highway back to town. And the storm caught us. Lateral winds lifted my small car though not entirely off the ground, up three times then down, sideways - bump, bump, bump - until the rear wheel was nearly in a rain-filled ditch.
That cured us for the summer from future storm chasing that year.
Those who came later and did it seriously, to protect and to educate, like these men, deserve full marks and full praise.
