Spent Monday night in Gibsonburg, Ohio. VERY small town. First priest who let me in the door sat and talked for a while. Catholic, retired ... his main topic was the abuses in the church. Then, I felt like I was on the other side of the confession screen. "I can't even talk to the neighbors next door, they have three little girls and I just wave to them from the fence," said Father C who was so rotund he needed an electric chair just to boost him up to get him on his feet.

"Lot of those allegations were proven false," he said ... and then in the next breath he talked about skinny dipping and hiding the kids on the playground under his cassock. "The church sent out a letter to all priests, saying we weren't even allowed on the playgrounds." Father started quoting percentages about how studies showed abuses may have been prevented if priests were allowed to marry. "I don't think so, how could you even support a family on what we make?"

It took a bit for me to work my way out of that chat and my excuse was that I had to get to the library before it closed to check my messages. I went to see if there were other church/motel options.

Zion Lutheran with Pastor Blair and his wife Ellen proved welcoming. The two had met at the big amusement park, Cedar Point in Sandusky, Ohio. "My husband swept the walkway and I sold T-shirts," said Ellen, who described the iron-ons from the 1970s. "Remember when the boys would wear T-shirts that said 'Master' and the girls would wear t-shirts that said 'slave?' ... that's the era I worked at Cedar Point," she said laughing at how impossible it would be for such a thing to go over today.

I got locked into the church at night, wrote a couple post cards, took a bird bath, cleaned up my bike and slept in an air conditioned meeting room on a couch. I'd give the church a 4-star rating in my travel book of church stays.

Back on the road this morning at 5:45 a.m. A little too early as it's still dark. Radio reports say I'm biking directly into the path of a huge storm and that proves true as I get nailed about 20 miles west of Gibsonburg.

I quickly spin back to Luckey, Ohio and duck into a diner just as the skies light up and the rain comes down. I sit tight and shoot the breeze with the locals until about 9 a.m. when a nice guy named Jim Brinker offers me a ride up the road. Jim completely spoils me, takes me about 40 miles up Highway 64 to Archbold, buys me lunch at Sauder Farm Restaurant and by noon I'm making time to the Indiana border.

It's folks like Jim and Pastor Blair and his wife that make this trip that much better. Along with the humorous encounters that have occurred over the last two weeks. People you meet that strike you funny.

In New York I had put in 98 miles on a day that was about 900 degrees and humid. Some folks at the VFW adopted me. We were trading stories and talking about travel, miles and heat and people, when this 20-something girl came up the back porch stairs crying. Everybody knew her and tried to calm her down and figure out what was wrong. She finally got out something about her car. Then she said, "I had to drive five miles home from work with my windows open because my air conditioner in my car broke." One of the old ladies at the table laughed and bought her a beer to cool her down.

In Java Center, N.Y. there was a small tavern in the middle of nowhere, but they had air conditioning. "Nearest grocery is two miles that way," said bartender Renee, pointing south. Not my intended direction and too much out of the way to bother. "Are you biking? You trying to be Forrest Gump or something?" she joked. I asked for a big glass of ice water. "What are you looking for hun ... something to eat?" I said, "Just some fruit," but the water would be fine and the air conditioning.

Renee was older, in her late 50s, blonde ponytail and white tank top. She kept refilling a 12-oz. Coke glass with a mix of white soda and Coke. Renee started walking across to the end of the empty bar and quickly turned, rushed back, grabbed my water and opened a tray behind the bar. She dumped in a handful of lemons. "There's some fruit for you, OK?" It made my day, that extra effort. At least she was trying.