Lightning Never Strikes Twice

The distant rumble, the sudden deluge, the crescendo of sound, the flash of light, the explosive energy — it never gets old. I became an amateur storm chaser about two years ago. My wife, Cindy suggested it. Sort of. She said, "Alex, you know this cancer is killing me. I've come to terms with that, but you're smothering me. Go join a band, write a book, or become a storm chaser, for all I care. I love you, but you need a hobby."

I said, "I love you too, which is why I want to be with you. We'll talk more about this in the morning. I kissed her softly. We went to sleep, and she never woke up.

I became a storm chaser to honor Cindy's last suggestion, even if it was said as a joke. When I first began, I thought I would find a bunch of adrenaline junkies with death wishes. Instead, what I discovered was a community of people who want to help others when they most need help. I have proudly assisted people in the aftermath of storms, tornados, and hurricanes. I have contributed to education and science in minor ways. I have taken some amazing photographs, and yes, I have stood in awe and excitement at the power of mother nature.

What I didn't expect was for lightning to strike twice in the form of my love life. At 68, I thought I'd be alone for the rest of my life. Instead, I met Abigail, a fellow storm chaser. We clicked right away. We took things slowly, until it felt like the heat would burst out of us. Abigail was worth the wait.

While I had retired from electrical engineering early to spend time with Cindy, Abigail worked as a high school English teacher, chasing storms every summer.

On July 12th, Abigail read a news flash from her phone. "Violent monsoon storms expected this week in Tucson, Arizona. Let's book a flight."

Off we went. When we landed the next morning, it was dry and sunny. "This can't be right," I said, feeling the furrow in my brow, "Where are the clouds?"

"That's right, you said you've never been to Arizona. Don't worry. I was here a few years back. The storms build up during the day and usually hit in the afternoon and evening. Just wait. You'll see."

We settled into our hotel and spent some time together, making our own electricity.

Then we chose a nearby Mexican restaurant for lunch. Abigail said, "Best fish tacos ever."

I countered, "Can't be better than my burrito."

We sampled each other's food and declared it a tie.

By the time we left, there were huge, billowy, white clouds building up in the distance.

"See?" Abigail pointed.

"Well, I'll be. You got something right," I teased.

She smacked my arm and ran towards our rental. "Let's go find a storm!"

We had been told that Ironwood Forest National Monument was a great place to start, so off we went.

I presented my Senior Lifetime Park Pass at the gate. Abigail said, "Oh Alex, I didn't know I was dating a senior!" Then she found out the pass got us in free. She added, "When I turn 62 next year, I'm getting one too."

The clouds continued to build and darken. We found a great parking spot and took only our phones, water bottles, and raincoats from the car.

We hiked off into the desert towards the distant mountains. Abigail informed me, "Watch for cactus, snakes, and scorpions. You never know what you're going to step on if you're not careful."

About the time that it looked like the sun had gone off for an afternoon nap, the rain started pouring. When I say, "pouring," I mean dumping. Our top-quality raincoats were hardly doing the trick. Flashes of lightning in the distance were followed by booming crashes of thunder. We both started taking photos, protecting our phones as best we could.

The sky lit up repeatedly for us, displaying interesting purple hues. Stunning webs of light sprayed across the sky.

Abigail shouted, "It's no wonder some people call Tuscan 'The Lightning Capital of the World!'"

She had no sooner said that when the brightest flash coincided with the loudest crack of thunder I had ever heard. We felt the shockwave through the ground saw where it struck, maybe 100 yards ahead.

"Let's check it out," Abigail yelled, walking ahead.

"I don't think we should." I hollered back, "This seems dangerous."

"Come on, Alex. It's what we're here for. Besides, lightning never strikes..."

That's when I was knocked back and blacked out. I came to, unsure how long I had been out. My ears were ringing and my head was pounding. I couldn't see Abigail.

I managed to get to my feet and turn the flashlight mode on my phone. I yelled, "Abigail!" and wandered in the direction I thought I had last seen her. I called her phone and heard the ringer nearby.

She was on the ground with her eyes open. They looked clouded over. Her clothing was mostly burned off or smoking. Her exposed skin looked dark and scarred. She had no pulse.

That was my last storm chase.

Perhaps I'll join a band.