OK, maybe it is the heat. It was just plain hot when we headed out of town and didn't get any better. Bank thermometers said 101, although I don't think it was that hot. We rode along U.S. Route 6 and the pavement was really bumpy. So we decided to try county roads, since they run pretty much in straight lines in these parts. The problem was Rt. 6 tends to bend north.

We got to the bustling metropolis of La Paz and it had a few houses and one commercial building with an antique store and a barber. As I rode up, Dan had already talked to the barber and was waving frantically for me to come over.

So after looking in real towns for two weeks for a place to get my hair cut, right there in the middle of an Indiana corn field was Roger, just waiting to give me a trim. I told Roger I would like it rather short, so he offer his “brush cut.” He let me know they are pretty popular around here and he performs at least 35 of them a week. “Not all barbers know what it is called, but they all do them,” Roger said.

Roger didn't seem to mind at all that my hair was full of dirt and sweat. He pulled out the electric clippers, put on the “three-quarter inch gauge” and started buzzing away. I thought I had just been inducted into the Army and Roger was clearing away the lice. Hair was flying, Dan was grinning and before I knew it I'd been buzzed.

“You sure have a lot cowlicks. Your hair would be great for a flattop,” Roger advised. What hair? It's all on the floor!!! I haven't been shaved this close since I was six. “You'll feel a lot cooler riding that bike now,” Roger said as he admired his work.

So weighing pounds lighter and feeling streamlined, Dan and I headed out on the big highway. The heat and 50 miles had taken its toll on Nicole and she was done for the day. Dan and I pedaled off on what was now a four-lane highway with lots of traffic. I was thinking that it was strange how much heavier the traffic got and how much bigger the road was than when we made the turn onto the county road. At least it had a big shoulder to ride and we were cruising. Suddenly Jeff and Nicole pulled up in the van and let us know we where on the wrong road and were heading north rather than east.

We had gone about five miles north of Rt. 6, which was about the same as our destination. I thought we could just take county roads across and come out about right. So we stopped at a gas station and got directions. We were rolling right along until there was a construction detour. We tried a couple of other roads and Jeff and Nicole scouted some roads. Frustrated and hot, we decided to load everything up on the van, drive to my brother's lake cottage at Whitmer Lake and then ride our final miles from there.

Dan decided to do his final miles riding around the lakes. I headed off to the town of Topeka which is in the heart of Amish country. I grew up 40 miles from Whitmer Lake and there were plenty of Amish around. Ava Schwartz was in my school class from first grade until the day she turned 16 and was no longer required by the state to attend school. I can remember it being sad for many of us to see a friend leave who we had known all those years and know she would be nearby but we would never see her again.

As I rode to Topeka, I went past several Amish farms. At one, there was a girl in the front yard, wearing a traditional long blue shirt and white bonnet. She looked to be about 10 years old, and was brushing her waist-long blonde hair and it blew in the breeze. Before she saw me, I could see her smiling as she brushed her hair. Once she noticed me coming, wearing my traditional tight black cycling shorts and bright yellow cycling jersey, her eyes lit up and her little smile turned into a full-fledged beam. She waved at me and I waved back. Her pretty, round face reminded me of Ava.

The closer I got to Topeka, the more Amish farms and families in buggies I saw. One buggy had two rows of seats packed with a man and woman and eight kids of every size. They all smiled and waved before I did. In town, buggies were gathered at the local restaurant and at the park. The Amish believe that taking their photo takes their soul, so I honor that and don't try to take pictures of them.

I admire the Amish being able to live the simple life amidst all the distractions around them. I find it inspiring that they are so committed to their religion that they can give up worldly objects that make life much easier.

I wonder if all my objects really do make life easier.

Not looking too good, Loren gets buzzed by Roger.

A cow cools off in a pond.

Buggies are tied to a hitching post out a Topeka restaurant.

An Amish buggy heads down the road.