I knew it was hot…and that the thermometer had almost certainly reached triple digits —- but 105? Just out of curiosity, I called the Wichita branch of the National Weather Service, and they told me the official high for the day was 100. That’s recorded at the NWS office next to Mid-Continent Airport in west Wichita.

It was a fresh reminder that the temperatures touted on various signs around the metroplex have to be taken with a grain of salt. If the thermometer at the bank or the university is out in the sun or next to a parking lot, it’s going to read several degrees warmer than what the “official” temperature is. There’s a reason, after all, that standing for extended periods on the asphalt of a parking lot or city street can seem like being in a frying pan on a warm, sunny day.

Likewise, if a thermometer is in the shade, it will likely read a few degrees cooler.

One thing I have wondered about — but am likely never to find out — is which thermometers around Wichita produce the largest gap between what they register and the official reading at the weather service office. I’m sure there have to be some whoppers out there.

National Weather Service meteorologist Chris Bowman said the remnants of Tropical Storm Edouard will be so broken up by the time they reach Kansas late this week we’ll only see an increase in moisture available for a front to tap into.

When what was left of Hurricane Dolly moved toward the Great Plains last week, Bowman said, “there was a well-defined area of low pressure.” Edouard won’t even offer that.

Dolly brought .60 of an inch of rain over three days in late July to Wichita, adding to what has the potential to be one of the wettest years in the city’s history.

Other places were hotter - but not much. In fact, the hottest place in the country Monday was Alva, Okla., just south of the Kansas border and almost due south of Medicine Lodge.

It was 109 degrees on Monday in Alva, which is just 115 miles from Wichita.

A portion of the video can still be found on YouTube, and it was featured on last week’s episode of “Shockwave” on The History Channel.

Considering the circumstances, Smith said, their choice seemed reasonable at the time. Debris was raining down as they raced along the turnpike between El Dorado and Cassoday attempting to escape the tornado. When it became obvious they could not outrun the twister, they climbed up under an overpass.

Two things saved Jarrett, Lewis and others who took shelter there that day, he said: the unique box shape of the undergirders of the bridge, which provided a shield from the wind and debris, and the fact that the center of the tornado passed perhaps 40 yards from the underpass, sparing them its strongest winds.

Several people have died copying what Jarrett and Lewis did in the years since then, however, and meteorologists - Smith among them - urge folks to stay away from bridges and overpasses when a tornado threatens. The bridges tend to act as a funnel that collect debris — right where people have been taking shelter.

A common misconception is the tornado that nearly hit Jarrett and Lewis is the same one that hammered the Wichita metropolitan area earlier on the same day. It wasn’t, Smith said.

One particular supercell thunderstorm spawned four tornadoes that day, he said: The deadly EF-5 monster that decimated Haysville, Wichita and Andover was the third, while the tornado that threatened Jarrett and Lewis was the fourth.

I’m sure it’s a case of selective memory, but rain in July seemed like such a rare treat we’d stop whatever we were working on for a few minutes in the barn or the shed and just watch the drops come down.

It wasn’t just that any moisture in July and August seemed like a bonus for the all-too-often thirsty soil. After days - sometimes weeks - of baking in the summer heat, it was wonderful to bask in the cool, damp air that the showers brought.

Granted, the showers were frequently so brief they wouldn’t bring enough moisture to bring a halt to field work. But as boosts to the spirit during a searing summer, they were hard to beat.

I wonder how many of us could issue those every morning about ourselves until we’ve had a cup of coffee or picked up that cappuccino?

A small shed was knocked down by Corbin, and a machine shed being built on the south edge of Perth was destroyed. A friend sent me a couple of photos of the damage.

The strong winds appear to be the result of a thunderstorm collapsing, Fair said. That send winds blasting out in all directions as they fell to the ground and flattened out.

“The wind in Corbin was coming out of the east,” Fair said. “The wind from the Perth area was south going north.”

“We’re not going to see any toad-stranglers out there,” said Chance Hayes, warning coordination meteorologist for the Wichita branch of the National Weather Service.

But rainfall amounts above an inch will not be uncommon - particularly in central Kansas, he said.

Check conditions frequently on Tuesday, and avoid flooded streets and highways.

He’ll be talking about the famous video taken from under the Kansas Turnpike bridge on April 26, 1991, as a tornado passed nearby. Smith calls it the “Son of the Andover Tornado,” since it was the same day as that deadly EF-5, but it wasn’t the same twister that devastated portions of Haysville, Wichita and Andover.

Smith says that video caused “a great many problems,” because it gave people the incorrect impression that it was safe to take shelter under a bridge.

What had people buzzing was the microburst that flattened four semi-trailer trucks on I-135, damaged dozens of cars and dropped so much hail north of Park City that it looked like it snowed. Authorities were debating about calling out snow plow trucks before sheriff’s deputies shoveled the road clear.

Microbursts happen when air races down to the surface from high up in a thunderstorm. The air flattens out as it reaches the ground, becoming winds that can easily top 100 miles an hour. The microbursts can happen when a thunderstorm is falling apart and the rain and winds collapse toward the surface.

Or they can occur when so much hail is falling that the stones rapidly cool the air beneath the thunderstorm. That temperature change prompts the air to drop.

The difference between a microburst and a downburst is the size of the downdraft. If it’s less than 1.5 miles, it’s a microburst. If it’s larger than that, it’s a downburst.

As those caught in the storm can attest, air dropping that fast can do plenty of damage.