My Terrifying Encounter with Mother Nature

A straight-up storm of truth, a (micro)burst of clarity: we’re all at the mercy of overwhelming forces

Apr 05, 2023

One moment you’re looking to go shoot some hoops at a nearby gym…and the next -- you’re looking through your windshield as garbage cans and other heavy objects start whistling toward you.

This was the scene that played out for me yesterday afternoon, shortly before 2 p.m. It was the most terrified I have ever felt. At the root of my terror: sudden-shock clarity that, as I sat in the driver’s seat of a Ford Escape, I was at the mercy of an overwhelming force.

As these objects were propelled violently forth, a word popped into my brain and flowed from my lips: “Microburst.”

Now, I had never been in a microburst before, so I’m no expert on whether that’s what this was.1 But, from the sanctuary of a newsroom, I have written about severe weather events that have wreaked destruction. And who hasn’t read or heard stories about hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes and the like?

Whatever the meteorological term for this monster, I knew enough that being in the ironically named SUV (an Escape, really?) in the teeth of a wicked wind tunnel (more on that in a bit) wasn’t where I wanted to be.

Having already come to a stunned stop, I thrust the vehicle into “park,” heard something substantial strike the Escape’s front, and angled my upper body across the passenger seat. If something was going to come crashing through, I preferred not to be a sitting duck – a leaning-to-the-side duck struck me as safer.2

I grabbed my smartphone and began recording video. Maybe it would capture my last moments before meeting Jesus; more likely, any images would come in handy if an insurance claim became necessary. My reaction was driven by the same reporter’s instinct3 that often prompts me to capture a fire or some other dramatic scene unfolding near me or the climactic moment of a sporting event.

Only, this was not some last-second basketball confrontation between two evenly matched teams. It was a classic mismatch – and I pined for the sidelines. A few minutes later, after extricating a branch that had lodged in the undercarriage, I entered my second parking garage in a nine-minute span. (Yeah, I have the entry tickets to prove it – 1:50 p.m. and 1:59 p.m., assuming their clocks are in alignment.)

After catching my breath, I noticed my wife, Bridgett, had texted me at 1:57, apparently from her third-floor home office: “Wow. It’s really bad here. I’m going to the basement.”

That would have been right around the moment when I thought I might wind up like Dorothy and Toto in The Wizard of Oz.

The Perfect Storm: Those Moments Leading up to `The Moment’

In retrospect, it’s clear that I had been caught in the very spot – just a few dozen feet of pavement -- where I have encountered the most ferocious wind tunnel of my life. It’s aided and abetted by tall buildings along either side of one of our town’s main thoroughfares.

Having ridden my bicycle in this exact location many times, on occasion I must pedal energetically to stay upright, my forward progress topping out at 2 mph. A few times, I have abandoned pedaling altogether in favor of a strained against-the-wind slog that looks like something out of a Monty Python skit.

To re-set the scene, then: there’s me, the Ford Escape, that precise patch of pavement and that microburst. Dare I say it was the perfect storm?

Fateful moments like this – it’s enough to make you reflect on all the little decisions that led you to that spot at that precise point in time. At least, that’s what it has done for me. A partial accounting:

I had wanted to go to my fitness center at least an hour earlier. However, a bunch of work-related tasks seemed too pressing for me to put off.
When I finally did get out the door, I thought I had left my car key inside – only to find it in my jacket pocket after I came back to the patio door. That consumed at least another minute.
As I got in the Escape, hail started plink-plink-plinking on the hood, the windshield, the roof. Immediately, I knew what to do: drive a few blocks to the library underground parking garage to prevent any damage to its body.
I stayed in the garage for several minutes, with a few of those minutes tacked on because the exit gate wasn’t deploying, each motorist having to press a help button to have someone let them out remotely. An unusually long line of four or five vehicles stacked up. Fine with me – I might have been the only motorist who really knew what was out there, and so I was the picture of patience while a few other cars honked their horns in apparent frustration.

Re-emerging outside and turning westward, I was grateful that the hail had stopped. However, it had somehow gotten darker from what had already been a really overcast day. I mean it was creepily, eerily dark – almost as if it were nighttime. The thought crossed my mind to call my wife, only a quarter mile in my rearview mirror, and ask her if she saw any frogs falling from the heavens.4

But before I could act on that goofy impulse, well, let’s circle back to the beginning of this post: One minute you’re looking to go shoot some hoops…

What’s the point of this story? The grand, overarching theme?

Take your pick:

When it starts to hail, get inside the nearest building.
Linger longer in library underground parking lots.
Hug your loved ones – and cherish every moment, even the mundane ones. You never know what might be around the corner, or just a half-mile down the street.
Thank God for His mercy, especially when you aren’t always the best at heeding those first three options.

As for me, I’ll pick ‘em all.

If you have enjoyed reading this and any other installments of The Inside Edge, please consider clicking on the “like” button, leaving a comment or sharing this with others who might also enjoy it.

Others have been calling what transpired a microburst, but the term used by the Village of Oak Park is “straight-line storm.” And that rings true to me after I checked out this WeatherNation explainer video.

Pretty good move here, methinks. As the narrator explains toward the end of the 90-second clip referenced above, “It’s not the wind itself that can be deadly. It’s what the wind can pick up and throw in your direction that is dangerous.”

This reporter’s instinct also led to my shooting two videos and taking about 15 photos of the destruction along Lake Street and a nearby park where large trees were toppled. And, of course, that led to this story that I posted at the Oak Park and River Forest Patch, which I headlined with the alliterative “Straight-Line Storm Strikes Oak Park.” At the end of that article is a video that I posted from that nearby park. After posting hundreds of stories on many different Patch community pages over the past 15 years, this may well be my first weather-related article. To borrow one of Carl Spackler’s many memorable lines in Caddyshack (as portrayed by Bill Murray): “So I got that going for me, which is nice.”