Storm Chaser by Jim Reed
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<span class="text"><font color="#000000" class="text"> <p style="text-align: center;"><img width="274" height="170" src="/users/JimReed4147/Image//excerpt_preface.jpg" alt="" /></p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em> I am <span style="color: black;">not afraid of storms for I am learning how to sail my ship. </span></em></span></span><span style="font-family: Geneva; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em><span style="color: black;">-- Louisa May Alcott</span></em></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: left;"><!--StartFragment--></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 120%; vertical-align: baseline;" class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 120%; vertical-align: baseline;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;">A psychotic rain pounds the windshield. We can’t see the hood of the car, much less the road. An eight-year-old boy squints for a better look at the sky through the passenger window.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br /> </span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 120%; vertical-align: baseline;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;">The car splatters to a stop near a deserted strip mall. Water surrounds the tires. The sound of a demonic jet engine roars beneath us . . . beside us . . . above us.</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br /> </span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 120%; vertical-align: baseline;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;">“We’re going to be okay,” says Mom, still clutching the steering wheel, both feet on the brake. I manage a smile of forced confidence. Outside our windows, Hurricane Camille, one of the strongest tropical cyclones to directly strike the United States in the twentieth century, is crossing northern Mississippi on August 18, 1969.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br /> </span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 120%; vertical-align: baseline;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;">A mistimed return trip from a family vacation in Florida to our home in Springfield, Illinois, had placed us in the outer bands of the incredibly powerful and historic storm. Much of Mississippi was flattened. Many were killed. Among those who survived were a little boy and his single mother from the Land of Lincoln.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br /> </span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 120%; vertical-align: baseline;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;">Mom said very little about the hurricane over the next year, but I could tell she’d been affected. She kept a closer-than-ever eye on the sky. Central Illinois weather can be very unpredictable, yielding everything from tornadoes and flooding to ice storms and blizzards.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 120%; vertical-align: baseline;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;">Her behavior changed, too. For my ninth Christmas, Santa brought me a flashlight, G.I. Joe, B B gun, radio, Easy-Bake oven, football helmet, hairspray, Hot Wheels, Playboy magazine, Kodak camera, and diary. It was a young man’s ultimate natural disaster kit.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br /> </span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 120%; vertical-align: baseline;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;">On January 3, 1971, I logged my first official weather journal entry: “Today when I woke up it was raining and hail was coming down.” But it wasn’t hail. It was sleet. Sleet that changed over to snow—and lots of it.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <br /> </span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 120%; vertical-align: baseline;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;">But instead of fearing Illinois’s newest winter storm, I embraced it.</span></span></span><a href="/users/JimReed4147/docs//SC2_Preface.mp3"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> <!--EndFragment--> </span></p> <p> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"><img width="274" height="170" src="/users/JimReed4147/Image//excerpt_winter.jpg" alt="" /></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em><span style="font-size: large;">I believe in God, only I spell it Nature. -- Frank Lloyd Wright</span></em></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">In March 1978 a massive ice storm struck central Illinois. Three of my favorite apple and pear trees, ones I had once climbed as a boy, had fallen, smothered in frozen precipitation. It was the first disaster aftermath I ever photographed, and quickly I realized there was a dark, heart-wrenching side to weather phenomena as well as the entertaining side. One by one, limb by limb, I amputated the fallen backyard trees with a borrowed chainsaw. It’s one of the few times I ever cried as a teenager.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">As we entered the twenty-first century, many living in the south needed their Y2K survival kits—not for computer glitches, but for challenging winter weather. On January 23, a remarkable two thousand emergencies were declared in sixteen Georgia counties after an unusually powerful ice storm crippled the state, including Atlanta. Roads glazed over. Structures buckled. More than a quarter million people were without electricity due to toppled trees.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">The Atlanta media quickly dubbed the event as the “storm of the year.” A week later, they were searching for a new title when a second powerful ice storm struck central Georgia with similar results. This storm even disrupted the Super Bowl between the St. Louis Rams and Tennessee Titans scheduled for January 30. Many vendor stands closed the day before. Those that opened had few if any customers. Instead of buying snacks for Super Bowl parties, local residents were scooping up emergency supplies. Thankfully, the game was played inside (the Rams won 23–16).</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">On New Year’s Eve, warm temperatures and dust particles in the atmosphere resulted in a spectacular sunset in Myrtle Beach. As party music played and the sun dropped beneath the horizon in 2005, I peered out over the open waters of the Atlantic. We weren’t alone. A thousand miles off the East Coast a tropical storm churned. Zeta was the twenty-eighth and final named storm of America’s record-setting 2005 hurricane season. It’s the first time in my life I have ever cheered, “Happy New Year,” while knowing a tropical cyclone loomed offshore.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">Zeta, one of only two tropical cyclones on record to cross from one calendar year to the next, took us into the new year, and our climate continued to throw us one curve ball after another.</span></span></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p> </p> <!--EndFragment--> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"><img width="274" height="170" src="/users/JimReed4147/Image//excerpt_spring.jpg" alt="" /></p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em><span style="font-size: large;">In the spring, I counted 136 different kinds of weather inside of 24 hours. -- Mark Twain</span></em></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"><!--StartFragment--></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">When I moved from Los Angeles to Wichita in 1992, one of the first things I did was to begin interviewing as many veteran storm chasers and tornado experts as possible: Howard Bluestein, Jon Davies, Robert Davies-Jones, Chuck Doswell, David Hoadley, Warren Faidley, Marty Feely, Roger Jensen, Jim Leonard, Martin Lisius, Tim Marshall, Erik Rasmussen, Jerry Straka, Greg Stumpf, Dr. Josh Wurman, and many others. I even had the privilege of interviewing the father of the tornado “F-Scale,” Dr. Tetsuya Theodore Fujita, before he passed away in 1998.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;">The National Weather Service in Wichita, led by meteorologist Richard Elder, took me under its wing, as did Mike Smith, President of WeatherData, Inc., one of America’s earliest and most successful private forecasting companies. Thanks to these generous weathermen, I was learning something new about our climate every day, and by 1993 I was ready to chase on my own.</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">On April 24, 1993, a severe tornado struck Catoosa, Oklahoma, just outside of Tulsa. What caught my attention more than anything was the fact that the twister had hit a popular local truck stop. It prompted a flashback to all those long drives my mother and I used to make from Springfield to my Grandma’s house in northern Illinois. We’d always make a pit stop to get a cup of coffee and soda pop at the Dixie Truck Stop in Logan County. I loved trucks as a boy.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">Two days later, on April 26, I zipped down to Catoosa. I was overwhelmed by the widespread destruction. Overturned semi trucks. Shattered school buses. Toppled buildings. Winds in excess of 150 miles per hour had wrapped steal beams around solid concrete posts as easily as a child wraps licorice around a finger.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">But it was a nearby neighborhood that made me silent with horror. The homes were either gone or heavily damaged. One house in particular caught my eye. All that remained was a bathtub, toilet, and a single wall.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">“They survived by gettin’ in the tub and coverin’ up,” a stunned local shared with me.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">I raised my camera and pushed the shutter button only once. Standing in silence, my eyes recorded the aftermath. It was tough to accept, but I knew it was important to see both sides of extreme weather.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">Later that night, in the comfort of my Wichita apartment, I updated my journal with six words: “Storm chasing has a dark side.”</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"><img width="274" height="170" src="/users/JimReed4147/Image//excerpt_summer.jpg" alt="" /></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em>In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous<span style="color: black;">. </span></em></span></span><span style="font-family: Geneva; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em><span style="color: black;">-- Aristotle</span></em></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">The forecast for June 12 called for severe thunderstorms, including possible tornadoes, in the Wichita area. In between monitoring hourly conditions and packing our vehicle, I learned that open auditions were being held at a local mall for an upcoming reality show based on none other than my favorite childhood sitcom, Gilligan’s Island. Actress Dawn Wells, who played Mary Ann, would make a personal appearance.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /> </span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">Since storms weren’t expected until late afternoon, I raced over to the mall. After shooting a few stills of the auditions for Corbis, I was introduced to Ms. Wells. She couldn’t have been nicer. When Dawn learned I was a real-life storm chaser, she couldn’t stop asking questions about tornadoes. Suddenly, my cell phone chirped. It was Jon informing me that a tornado watch had been issued and that we’d better head out.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /> </span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">Understandably, Mary Ann’s questions quickly switched from the subject of storm chasing to the subject of getting out of Wichita. I briefed the producers on the developing weather situation and headed off to work.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /> </span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">“Wait!” said Ms. Wells. “We have to take a photo together.”</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /> </span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">CLICK. We traded business cards and a hug and I was out the door.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /> </span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">Minutes later, Jon and I were on our way to the developing storm. To commemorate my rendezvous with Ms. Wells, Jon played a CD, which happened to feature the Gilligan’s Island theme song.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /> </span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">“The weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed,” went the song. Well, we weren’t in a ship, but the weather did start getting rough. Less than two hours after my visit with Dawn Wells, Jon and I documented five tornadoes in south central Kansas. Once again, Hollywood and weather had combined in my increasingly surreal life.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"><img width="274" height="170" src="/users/JimReed4147/Image//excerpt_autumn.jpg" alt="" /></p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em><span style="font-size: large;">One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. -- William Shakespeare</span></em></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <!--StartFragment--> <!--StartFragment--> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">On August 23, 2005, Tropical Depression 12 formed over the southeastern Bahamas. At 7:00 A.M., August 24, Wednesday morning, it was given a name: Katrina.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <!--EndFragment--> </span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">Behind the scenes, a flurry of activity erupted among meteorologists, climatologists, oceanographers, and storm chasers. Everyone I spoke with had a “bad feeling” about this one, and around-the-clock surveillance began.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /> </span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">That same day, I e-mailed a rare heads-up warning to all of my media clients, which included the major American television networks and Corbis:</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">“Quick note to let you know that for the first time since Hurricane Dennis in July, we’re going into major hurricane mode here at Jim Reed Photography. Katrina may strike the southeast coast of Florida as a Category 1, but we’re becoming increasingly concerned she may become a major hurricane once in the Gulf.”</span><br /> </span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">Hurricane Katrina had pinned us inside the hotel for nearly nine hours. Storm chaser Mike Theiss and I had videotaped and photographed the full evolution of a major hurricane’s Category 5–size storm surge from close range. The work produced a feeling of pride and triumph until we climbed over mounds of debris and emerged outside.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /> </span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">We were the only building within a one-mile stretch that hadn’t been destroyed. The first floor of our hotel had been gutted. Only concrete walls and protruding showerheads remained—but the five-story building was still standing. Surrounding us, homes and businesses had been obliterated. Only concrete slabs remained.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /> </span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">Where forty-year-old trees once stood, we now saw only craters. It was the worst aftermath I’d seen since surveying the F-5 tornado destruction in Moore, Oklahoma, in 1999.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"><img width="274" height="170" src="/users/JimReed4147/Image//excerpt_epilogue.jpg" alt="" /></p> <p style="text-align: center;"> </p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. -- Albert Einstein</span></span></em></p> <p style="text-align: left;"> </p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">By the end of my seventeenth year of documenting America's changing climate, I have logged 357 storm chases, intercepted seventeen hurricanes, and photographed over sixty tornadoes. I have experienced blizzards, ice storms, droughts, floods - nearly every type of meteorological phenomena. The result of my journey still has me feeling inspired, but now more concerned than ever before. </span></span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">Debating global warming has its value, but from my experience in the field, I am convinced we must immediately and simultaneously concentrate on <em>adapting</em> to your ever-increasing weekly weather challenges. How we <em>prepare</em> for our planet's mounting climate hazards is paramount to our survival.</span></span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">Gone are the days of saying, "We never saw it coming!" and "We didn't have any warning!"</span></span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">It's time to firmly respect nature, one another, and the writing on the wall. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">Weather hazards have become and will continue to be increasingly harsh. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">Weather hazards are rising in number and will continue to do so. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">Weather hazards have become and will continue to be more abrupt...</span></span></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;" class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.stormchaserbook.com/content.html?page=6" target="_blank"><img width="79" height="77" border="0" alt="" src="/users/JimReed4147/Image//buy%20now.jpg" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p><font size="3"><br /> <br /> </font></p></font></span><br> <h1> storm chaser hurricanes tornadoes global warming climate change weather storm chasing</h1>
