So, listen, I learned something during our Cripple Creek/Victor Narrow Gauge Rail Road train ride this morning. And that is how Cripple Creek actually got it’s name. There was evidently a chap who continued to hurt his leg every time he went in or near the creek that ran down through the area where the city now sits. It is said that after one of his last injuries near there, he spoke the words, “That sure is a Cripple Creek.” That is the long and short of the story and I am telling you this not only because I might now be a history buff, but because I believe there to be some truth to the theory. You see, Windmill had an accident today before we took his picture at the city’s name sake sign. Windmill fell out of the back of the XL-7 and is in dire need of repair before our big trip to his homeland of Orange City, Iowa next week. Yea, that’s right. I intend to pack Windmill in my suitcase. Don’t judge me. Check out Windmill’s misfortune today:

This is how he landed. Blades flew right off! He’s got a big crack in the back side. I haven’t yet figured out our plan to fix him.

Don’t despair, all was not lost. At least there was fun had before the accident happened:

And, not to worry, the rest of us had a fine time too, despite Windmill’s turn for the worse. Stay tuned to see how steam from the burning coal must have gotten to our brains, giving us a severe case of sillies. Oh, what’s that? You want a sneak peak? Well….ok!