I contemplated cropping the above image to achieve a better visual balance. Then I thought, nah. For one thing, what’s the point of trying to balance the photo of a character who’s as wildly off kilter as Bill. For another, and all kidding aside, I’d have to trim out a good portion of the storm clouds. And that would be like trimming out the very essence of Bill Oosterbaan. You see, clouds like those are Bill’s passion. They’re what first brought us together thirteen years ago, and they’ve been propelling us across the miles ever since in search of convective mayhem.

Bill is my chase partner. Of course, I chase with some other great friends and storm chasers as well, but Bill…well, I’ve just covered more miles with him by far, paid more dues, experienced more busted chases, learned more about weather, and yes, seen more tornadoes and beautiful storms, than with anyone else. This post is my tribute to my fellow chaser, comrade in convection, and good friend of over a decade.

Bill and I are very different temperaments. Conduct a Meyers-Briggs personality profile of each of us and your first conclusion probably wouldn’t be that we ought to get in a car together and travel 1,000-plus miles at a stretch in search of intense, potentially lethal weather. But we’ve survived both the storms and each other, and learned quite a bit in the process. And, I might add, we’ve had a heckuva lot of fun.

I first met Bill back in 1996. That was the year I also conducted my first successful storm chase right here in Michigan. I had already done a chase or two with Bill and his brother, Tom, but on that sticky August day, the two of them were out on the golf course. So when a supercell fired up and formed a wall cloud right outside the window where I worked, I drove solo across the Kent and Ionia County countryside and scored a slim, elegant tube tornado north of Saint Johns.

On my chases since then, though, I’ve rarely been without Bill. So our development as storm chasers has followed a very similar track. I saw my first Great Plains tornado with Bill. In 2005 we chased the record-breaking Six State Supercell together from west of Columbia, Missouri, all the way back to Michigan. On two separate occasions, we’ve witnessed nighttime tornadoes strike large towns. Our technology has advanced from a miniature TV and stop-offs at airports  and libraries in order to access radar data, to laptops equipped with all the tools known and loved by storm chasers today. We’ve even figured out how to use most of the stuff. Our forecasting skills have grown from those early days of trying to decode the arcane language of SPC discussions, to making our own forecasts with increasing success.

Lately my laptop of four years has been giving me fits. This is  nothing new, but it has gotten to the point where I’ve finally ordered a new one from Dell. It’s a heavy-duty toughbook that’s made to take punishment, perfect for the road. Bill sees  in it the end of an era. He says he’s going to miss watching my eyes bulge and the veins pop out in my neck. I hate to deprive him of such a simple pleasure; it’s a small thing, and it causes him so much joy. On the other hand, I think he’ll agree that there’s a lot to be said for having a computer that doesn’t crash when we need it most. Typically that happens while we’re in pursuit of some rain-wrapped meso with who knows what lurking in its interior.

I look forward to tracking down plenty more mesos with my friend and long-time chase partner. Many more storms, countless more hours on the road, and yes, more arguments with the ornery cuss. Because the storms are what it’s about for both of us, and I think we’ve learned–and will continue to learn–plenty from each other about chasing them. Our respect for one another is mutual, as is our love for the wild, untamed beauty of Big Weather. When Bill and I talk, it’s mainly about storms. We never get bored. For us, talking about the weather is far from trivial conversation. There’s always something new to learn, something fresh to discover.

That’s why I refuse to trim those storm clouds out of the picture up above. To lessen their presence would be to lessen the story they tell about the man standing in front of them. They’re a vital part of Bill. So let the clouds remain and let the picture look a bit unbalanced. After all, Bill’s a storm chaser. What kind of balance do you expect out of a guy who hunts tornadoes?

Bill, mi amigo, it sure has been a blast. Here’s to you. Here’s to shared experiences, to the thousands of miles we’ve driven, and to the thousands we’ve yet to drive. Here’s to the the Lord who has kept us safe and blessed us with success.

And, as always, here’s to the storms.