Flashlights, spam, backpacks, sleeping bags, assorted snacks, and lots of warm clothes were pilling high into my shopping cart. People who stopped to make small talk all ways assumed I was going camping and usually looked at my stuff and remarked, “I here its going to rain this weekend, you might want to bring an extra raincoat.” To this I always smiled and said “oh really, thank you”, but of course I already knew, because in fact I wasn’t going camping. No, I was pursing a different passion. A passion of thrill seeking and adventure, I am a storm chaser. In that moment my friend Ginny came around the corner holding two pairs of bright red waterproof underwear, resembling the fabric of a tarp. She held them up high with a goofy grin and suggestively moved her eyebrows up and down. We both burst and out giggles and added them to our load. Ginny was a practical joker to the max and I loved taking her with me on the scary storm trips. She always lightened the mood, even with a tornado only a couple 100 yards away. But this time we were seeking out Hurricane Irene. She was a category three hurricane currently rising in the Atlantic and we were driving to the coast of north Carolina, about 2 hours away, tonight to wait for her to hit land. The now made there way to the photo isle and stocked up on film. Another benefit of my passion is that it has been profitable. I have my own photography website where I have sold several pictures of tornados, hurricanes and other tropical storms. But still I wasn’t exactly riding high on the tides of financial stability. I hate feeling weak and poor so in my weakness I had a minor habit of stealing. I mean I have given to the community through hours of community service and volunteering at the local church for day camps for kids. I always justify it with the fact that I shouldn’t suffer when I have given so much of my time to others, and so this habit began. It mainly comes in the form of shoplifting. The first time it happened it was an accident; I had absent-mindedly walked out of a drugstore with a pair of sunglasses I had tried on top of my head. When I realized what I had done I was shocked but it was thrilling, like a mini storm experience. The storm chasing is good for me because it satisfies all the impulsiveness. All the thrill is amplified in driving down a highway with no one and on your right seeing the highway jam packed full of evacuees staring at you zoom by while they are stuck. The way my heart jumps with delight as the storm starts and Mother Nature releases her wrath all around and life comes down to pure survival, its almost primitive. Whatever it is, to me, it is a hobby and it was the last thing my dad and I did together before he died. We shared 17 hours together in the basement of an old church during a tornado in 2009 and we bonded. Despite our newfound relationship God had other plans. My dad died suddenly of a heart attack a year later. Now I had Ginny to come with me and we had fun. She has come with me on four escapades so far and each one was a success in my book, good pictures, good times, and obviously survival. As we checked out with all our gear needed for our storm adventure Ginny raddled off about having jitters about hearing the storm was growing stronger. We loaded all the stuff into my red faded Honda crv and headed on our way. Two lucky blue gatorades in the cup holders, our traditional drink of choice on each storm trip. As we drove down the long highway I gazed at the clear blue sky and spotted a single cloud and gasped. The cloud looked as if it has shifted into an image of my dads face, smiling.
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