 |
| Amish buggy |
Since my car was parked in Colon, I changed clothes and rode 23 miles from the Meijers store in Three Rivers to Colon. No real big deal for me -- my gigantic calves and glutes to match do the work for me.
So there I was, behind an Amish buggy.
The driver didn't seem to mind me -- dressed in spandex, a cycling Jersey that says "Hell of a Ride" from a fundraiser that I rode 10 years ago in Ann Arbor, and my bike. Helmut, of course, on head.
The clopping of the horses hooves on the pavement was so soothing and really stopped time for me. I just didn't seem to mind the horse droppings, nor the smell of the very fresh manure. It's total country all the way.
I took an unusual route that I never explored before. A packed dirt road that was okay for my skinny tires but not the kind of road for my vehicle.
As frequently as I am in the area, I saw things I never saw before. This was the major thoroughfare of the Amish, where they socialized. So many stopped and chatted. Lots of Amish bikes -- heavy and sturdy like their Belgium horses. Some of the ladies were walking arm in arm. Children driving a buggy led by their pygmy pony. Across the way, I saw an father with his son, both had their guns slung over their shoulders for the hunting they were doing. No one was in a hurry. People were happy. Except for me, no "English".
They waved to me. Here, I must have been a site for sore eyes with my weird-to-them outfit and so out of place next to women with bonnets and their dresses. No one cared.
A horse and buggy, a 25 mile ride where another dimension existed, and a lot of peace. Hardly any cars. I followed that buggy all the way to Colon ... where it finally turned into the drive-thru at the bank.
No comments:
Post a Comment