Posted on May 21, 2025

Loud Boom Shakes Elkhart—No One Knows Why

41

Elkhart, IN — Residents across Elkhart County were jolted awake Thursday night by a sudden, unexplained loud boom that rattled windows, set off car alarms, and triggered the usual flurry of Facebook posts asking, “Did anyone else hear that loud boom?” As always, speculation followed—some blamed fireworks, others claimed it was a transformer, and a few floated the usual wild cards: meth labs, secret tunnels, or the sound of Elkhart’s patience finally snapping.

Of course, no loud boom thread is complete without someone chiming in with “Sorry, I had Taco Bell,” typically around comment #14. It’s unclear who started the tradition, but locals now consider it part of the process—just behind tagging three friends and blaming Todd from down the road.

While authorities offered no official comment, that didn’t stop dozens of residents from launching full-scale investigations from their recliners. “I replayed my Ring cam at least 11 times,” said local grandma and part-time conspiracy theorist Linda Yoder. “All I saw was a squirrel drop a nut and run for its life. Suspicious behavior if you ask me.”

Meanwhile, Elkhart County’s scanner pages lit up with the kind of urgent activity only a loud boom can inspire. Reports poured in from nearly every township—“felt like a cannon,” “dogs barking nonstop,” and one particularly vivid account describing it as “the kind of loud boom you feel in your soul and lower back.”

“I thought it was the Rapture,” admitted Cheryl, who immediately tried to Facetime her pastor. “When he didn’t answer, I panicked and put on my Easter dress just in case.”

Others were more skeptical. “Probably just Derrick again,” muttered one commenter, referencing a local man known for experimenting with backyard pyrotechnics and half-finished YouTube tutorials. “Last year he tried to launch a deep fryer into orbit.”

Still, many were convinced the boom wasn’t man-made at all. Theories ranged from a meteor strike to a sonic boom caused by an angry angel. One particularly active post suggested it was the ghost of a former mayor trying to warn the town about Dollar Generals multiplying again.

“I don’t want to say it was aliens,” said Greg T., who described the sound as “a deep, freedom-flavored boom.” He’s since drawn a chalk circle in his yard and placed his Alexa in the middle “to listen for transmissions.”

Even the local Nextdoor page wasn't immune, with one man offering to "come check your property for residual loud boom energy"—a service he described as "cash only, no questions asked."

By midday, a few brave souls took it upon themselves to start a “Boom Watch” page on Facebook. It had 237 members within the first hour, all ready to report strange noises, weird lights, or anything that made the dog bark. One member posted a blurry photo of a cloud and simply captioned it, “Boom-shaped?”

In response to the growing hysteria, the Elkhart County Board of Preparedness announced the formation of a temporary Boom Response Task Force. Their job? Monitor future loud booms, compile witness statements, and try not to make anything worse. Their only tool so far appears to be a clipart-heavy PDF titled “What to Do When You Hear a Loud Boom.”

The task force’s first and only public training session was held in the back room of a Casey’s General Store. It consisted of one guy with a projector and a slideshow that included the phrases “Stay alert,” “Probably not aliens,” and “Don’t call 911 unless you see actual fire.”

The town’s unofficial loud boom expert, a man named Roger who sells firewood out of a trailer, believes the truth is being covered up. “I’ve felt enough booms in my time to know when one ain’t natural,” Roger said while adjusting a Bluetooth earpiece that wasn’t connected to anything. “They don’t want us to know. You think it’s a coincidence this happens the same week Taco Bell brings back the Volcano Menu?”

Rumors of a second loud boom later that night turned out to be someone dropping a toilet off a porch in Dunlap. Still, several residents insisted it felt “spiritually similar” and should be taken seriously.

As concern grew, Elkhart officials reminded residents to download the county’s official emergency alert app, ReadyElkhart, a piece of taxpayer-funded technology that hasn’t successfully alerted anyone to anything since 2019.

“I downloaded it and all it did was crash and ask for my Wi-Fi password,” said Janet, who tried to check for boom-related updates but instead received a push notification about a pancake breakfast that happened last week. “I tapped ‘Loud Boom Report’ and it opened my camera and took a selfie. No idea where it sent it.”

According to the app’s description, ReadyElkhart was designed to deliver real-time updates in the event of tornadoes, power outages, or “unexplained seismic audio disturbances,” which sounds impressive until you realize the last push alert simply read, “Loud? Maybe.”

County IT responded by suggesting users uninstall and reinstall the app, which caused it to stop working completely. A follow-up message posted on the city’s Facebook page read, “We’re aware some users are having issues. In the meantime, if you hear a loud boom, please just remain calm and refresh Facebook like everyone else.”

Despite the technical problems, some residents remain loyal to the app. “It’s the thought that counts,” said Daryl, who swears it once warned him about a thunderstorm—three days late.

With no answers and rising anxiety, a few enterprising locals have spotted a golden opportunity. By Saturday morning, at least one man had already launched a new service: BoomShield Insurance, proudly offering “the region’s only loud boom coverage plan.”

The man behind it, Brian “Big Bri” Toller, set up a folding table outside the Elkhart Menards with a sign that read “Protect Yo’ Stuff – Loud Boom Season Is Real.” For just $29.99 a month (cash only), customers can allegedly get reimbursed for any boom-related damages, including shattered nerves, tipped lawn chairs, and emotional distress caused by confused pets.

“Look, I’m not saying your house is gonna explode,” Brian explained, handing out business cards printed on what looked like cereal boxes. “But if it does, you’ll wish you had BoomShield.”

His coverage tiers included things like Standard Boom, Premium Boom, and a mysterious third level labeled “Acts of Todd.” When asked about the policy details, Brian just winked and said, “You’ll know when you need it.”

City officials have already issued a warning not to give Brian any money, but several residents claimed it’s the only plan that’s actually acknowledged the loud booms at all.

As of Sunday night, the cause of the loud boom in Elkhart remains officially unknown. No arrests have been made, no evidence has surfaced, and no one—shockingly—has stepped forward to take credit. The Facebook threads have started to quiet down, slowly replaced by posts about lost dogs, suspicious clouds, and people selling slightly used patio furniture.

Still, the question lingers in the air like the echo of the loud boom itself: what was it?

Was it something serious? Something stupid? Or just Elkhart being Elkhart?

For now, residents are left to do what they do best—speculate wildly, blame Todd, and keep their ears open for the next mysterious blast that shakes the town just enough to make everyone say, once again, “Did anyone else hear that loud boom?”

Because in Elkhart, when the boom hits... nobody ever knows why.