Books. Bikes. Boomsticks.
What this planet needs is a twenty-foot flying predator.
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
Straight from the pages of history!
We took a quick leg stretch in Cimarron, whose thousand-odd inhabitants are nearly outnumbered by rather elaborate historical markers.
In the background, one can see signs upon which various figures of the Old West are commemorated. Some of them had ties to Cimarron that could charitably be described as "nonexistent", such as William Cody or Annie Oakley, but Kit Carson and Lucien Maxwell were there, too, which made me squee, seeing as how I'd just finished reading the immensely entertaining and educational Flashman and the Redskins, in which both have not-insignificant parts.
Six thousand four hundred and twenty-seven feet; as high as though you'd stacked Chase Field atop Coors Field and stood on the roof. If they can get a Major League team and some good 'roids, home run records would be in jeopardy.