Cody, Wyoming and the BBM and the DUGM.

Cody, Wyoming.

We got to the "Buffalo Bill Museum" at about 9AM and dragged ourselves out of there, shell shocked, saturated, satiated, sedated, worn out, and in total sensory overload at about 1 PM.

First of all, that which I have been calling the BBM is actually called "The Buffalo Bill Center of The West" and rightly so as it actually consists of five separate museums clustered around a central hub.  It is ginormous!

The museums are:

The plains Indian Museum.                 (We didn't go in there.)

The Buffalo Bill Museum.                    (Fantastic)

The Photography Gallery.                   (Beautiful)

The Whitney Western Art Museum.   (Didn't see it.)

The Cody Firearms Museum.            (The largest gun collection in the world. I spent two hours there until my eyes glazed over. )

We pooped out after only 4 hours. We can go back as the admittance fee is good for two days but I really think those two days need to be separated by a year or so.

You'd think that after the BBM I'd be museum'd out.  But nooooooo. 

I drove into old town Cody to press a couple of pennies for my grand kids and stumbled 

onto “The Dug Up Guns Museum.”   As the sign says it has over 900 guns on display, all 

dug up from all over the world.  Most are from the US and from the frontier days, the civil 

war, and up to WWII. It was fascinating!  I enjoyed the heck out of it! 

The guns are displayed just as they were found, all rusty and deteriorated, but with cards 

telling where they were found and the make and model of each. Some had probable 

histories described based on the year of the gun and the location found.  The histories 

were well worth reading.  All in all I'd put the DUGs museum on your must see list if you 

ever head this way. 

Odd Thought:  When Cheryl and I used to tour the country on our Harley we would invariably be approached in a parking lot or campground by an “old guy” who would tell us that, “he used to have a bike just like ours and he used to ride all over the place just like we were doing”, and I would smile and listen to him blather on until I could politely extract ourselves from him and be on our way.  Well yesterday a two-up Harley parked in front of the camping cabin next to our RV spot and I was halfway out the door on my way to tell him “I used to have a bike just like that …” when I caught myself and forced me to go back into the camper  and sit quietly and leave them alone.

My, my, I’ve crossed over another milestone on the way to old fartdom.

Getting old sucks and is only offset by getting old.

Frank

PS:  I do not know why this posting is formatted weird. (If it is.)