For me, the 1999 chase season--rather than being personified by the storms and tornadoes that often leave indelible impressions--was marked by experiences with a distinct variety of chaser personalities. In the past I may have been too preoccupied or too apathetic to take notice of this phenomenon, which perhaps is second only to the remarkable "chaser convergence." So many individuals are there in the chasing community these days that it is untenable to embody them all. There are those who parade across the Plains in loud SUVs littered with antennas and signs that advertise the name they've attached to their respective chase groups. Others go solo, making their way in diminutive sardine cans from the early Eighties. And still there are the lone marauders who brave the chasing grounds in little more than battle proven (and subsequently beaten) vehicles to which they assign assortments of valiant, if not garish nomenclature.
This year, for the first time, I stepped back and took a moment to absorb the behavior of my fellow chasers, the mannerisms and methods which are inherent to their nature when a big storm looms within reach. To study this unique group of trackers is to witness pure ambivalence of character. One moment, a subdued individual who flashes a gracious smile as he/she pumps gas beside you at an Allsup's, the next moment an animated indulger of passion who trips over him/herself as he/she scrambles to be firmly on tripod for a once-in-a-lifetime event. It is the opinion of this chaser, after having witnessed his own dramatic demeanor and that of those around him, that most every storm/tornado is essentially a "once-in-a-lifetime event." This conviction, I feel, is responsible for the prolific enthusiasm common among chasers, newbies and veterans alike.
The zeal we share is exhibited in a wealth of divergent expression and approaches to chasing. For example, while one chaser might be content to stay at a distance, safely unmolested by a storm's nastier gestures (obtaining whatever footage possible from that vantage point), another is at home beneath a hail shaft, tickled to his core (no pun intended) to see his vehicle ravaged and to be but a cornstalk's length away from a funnel. One such chaser (who shall remain anonymous ) remarked to me, "I was on the road and the dirt was literally being sucked out from beneath my feet." I smiled and said, "that must have been terrifying for you." "Oh yeah, a real rush," he said. Naturally, I found the scenario he described to be reckless, if not slightly fabricated. Yet, it was amusing just the same and he spared no fervor as he regaled me with his tale.
Conversely, another chaser warned me, "if you make a habit of punching cores or getting, I don't know, let's say closer than four or five miles from a funnel, well, you've got a death wish as far as I'm concerned. To this I replied, "Would you consider yourself an adventurous spirit?" He said, "Absolutely." "Really?" I asked him. "That's interesting." "Really," he said. "Four or five miles, huh?" I made sure. "Really," he said again. He paid for his gas and left, not inclined, I assumed, to offer me any further elaboration. Again, I had encountered and engaged in conversation an extreme example. Nonetheless, it solidified my theory that it is personality that takes the forms of weather we all yearn to experience and turns them into living, breathing creatures that evolve from each of our unique perceptions.
Admittedly, in the past I have been somewhat opposed to the idea of welcoming chasers I don't know into my group. After all, my partners and I were tight knit and had been chasing together for years. Unfortunately, at the expense of missing out on some new and interesting personalities, I exercised a "don't fix it if it ain't broken" philosophy. As the chase seasons passed, however, I found myself with a dwindling resource of chase partners. Some I lost to marriage, others to financial strain and even a few to (unthinkable as it may be) disinterest.
This year I had the good fortune of meeting and chasing with a whole new crop of partners, all of whom I learned a great deal from and enhanced my perspective on chasing. I thank them for that and, more importantly, for their new friendship. This group of people made for an interesting and truly enjoyable chase season. It is important that we allow ourselves to be receptive to new faces.
I realize that it is the contrasts in chasing styles and personalities that often act as the impetus for criticism and animosity, elements of our passion that, quite frankly, we could all do without. My good memories of chasing are abundant and I will continue to do it for as long as I am an ambulatory and coherent person (and even when the day comes that I am not, I'm sure I'll still try to find a way).
My hope for the future is that we embrace the many distinct personalities of chasing and that we are open to the valuable insights and contributions that each has to offer. We all bring our own flavor to chasing, which is what makes us such a diverse group of individuals. However, when the precepts of why we chase are broken down to their fundamental roots, it is clear the one thing we all have in common: chasing is a meaningful part of our lives and we love it. Different as we may be otherwise, I can't think of a better mutual reason to chase than that.