I have seen lightening that close many times over the years, but the worst was a beautiful evening in Nevada where I called my two favorite girls to 4-wheel up into the hills to watch the sunset. When we left there was some storm activity far to the south, but based on my eleventy billion years of experience those few scattered bolts would strike far to the south and not come anywhere near us. Once we got high into the hills, gods wrath quickly encompassed every square inch around us, it was stunning how quickly we became engulfed....now understand I drive a 1966 landcruiser that the top has not been on since 1999. We abandoned ship for a brief time in the sudden tempest trying to find a safe place on foot to weather the storm. Within seconds a bolt hit closer than any bolt I had ever seen (and I have seen many bolts nearby throughout my life), the pure white light turned our corneas red, and the crack and the light were simultaneous, and all of our hair despite being drenched to the bone stood out straight up, with not a single strand touching any other. That bolt was felt. We all rushed back to the landcruiser and headed down the mountain side in rivers of water as fast as we could at all costs drove through the flash floods in the river washes in the valleys at the bottom while marveling at St Elmos fire. To this day every time I can see that hill (which is perfectly visible from US395), I remember that night
Wow!
I worked for retail register company- I was dispatched to replace a register that had been stuck by lightening. Front door was open- bolt came thru door and no more register.
no one was standing at register but was witnessed by employees and customers.
We went through it on top of a mountain also but we were backpacking. The lightening hit as we were at the top of the pass and just above the tree line. Came up quick. We expected weather but not that. Only luck none of us were struck. Got off the pass, looked back and could not believe the light show going of up there that we had just hiked through.
My heart was pounding just reading that story.
Back in the ‘70s I was a lifeguard at a pool on the top of an apartment house in N.W. Washington. One afternoon I was watching a storm drop lightning around Catholic University on the other side of town and had the random thought “Why doesn’t lightning ever strike near where you are?” Almost at once, a huge bolt of lightning hit the building across the street at my level, less than 100 feet away. The bolt was as wide as a Volkswagen with a pink core, and the light, concussion, and sound were instantaneous. By blind instinct, I ran from the pool, raced down ten stores of stairway, got in my car and was almost a block away before I recovered my presence of mind and asked myself “What am I doing?”