This morning's ride was sunny and peaceful on a riverside path that rolled alongside the St Joseph river. Much like yesterday's ride, today's was predominately flat. The countryside welcomed us back again once we had pedaled far enough from South Bend. Give or take after two hours of riding, it became apparent that we were in the heart of the Amish countryside of northern Indiana near Shipshewana. I found myself examining the homes that we rode by. The absence of electrical utilities and machine driven farm equipment were usually good indicators that the residents were Amish; especially when a horse and buggy were nowhere to be found. However, as we rode on, there was a growing number of observations that struck me as peculiar. On several occasions, I saw what I thought were Amish people riding bicycles. This struck me as very odd, as I had never seen them on bicycles before. My limited knowledge was that the bishops of each congregation usually forbid use of technology, including bicycles. I was especially floored when I began to see, what appeared to be, an abundance of Amish people operating farm equipment that was all machine operated. I began to think that the Amish around here were much different than the Amish in and around Kalona, IA (where I first lived after moving away from Illinois). At one point, Garrett and I were taking a break along a guardrail under the shade of a tree. While resting, a white Cadillac Escalade zoomed by with what appeared to be two Amish people riding in the front (one of which was driving). Perhaps they were Mennonite and not Amish, or perhaps they were a different sect of Plain People altogether? At this point, my reservations with refraining to play my secular music from the Bluetooth speaker completely vanished. Based on all that we had taken in around us, I had the impression that the music I would play wouldn't be offensive. We stopped for a quick lunch at a bar and grill that was at the intersection of two county roads. There was no town nearby; however, there was a bike shop kitty-corner to the restaurant operated by Amish folks. The meal really hit the spot, and it was necessary: we had about 50 miles of riding to go. The remainder of the ride was on backroads, except for the final five miles into Bryan, OH which was along a state highway. At this point, the wind propelled us into town, and both Garrett and I had appetites that were no longer dormant from a filling lunch. Enter the establishment named Father John. Father John is located in the undercroft of a former Methodist-Episcopal Church. At the time, I presumed that the church might still be functioning, as it sounded like there was a choir practice going on upstairs. Between the respective conventions of Amish, Mennonites, and Plain People, along with the atmosphere at Father John's, Christianity had thrown enough curveballs at my poor mind for one day. Father John's decor was a dichotomous blend of Christian, Buddhist, and Hindu artifacts. It was extraordinarily difficult to look at the menu, and we are two famished cyclists that just rode over 100 miles today! All around, the experience here was great. Stumbling on this establishment was a remarkable find. We returned to the motel after leaving Father John. Tomorrow's ride was going to be flat like today's, and we had not made firm plans for where we were going to conclude riding tomorrow. Regardless, I hoped to get at least 85 miles of riding in.
