Five showers on Tuesday and I'm still not clean. Split most of the 67 miles today on the road and in the rain. Took a bunch of pictures of myself being grouchy as I hid under awnings, on porch steps or in pole barns.

On Highway 20, just outside of Eden, Ohio the rain started for the third time and I pulled into an open door of a pole barn. "We got a cold beer in the fridge if you want," said a voice from behind shelves of steel parts. Jim and his buddy Marshall ran the shop, fixing tractors and farm equipment. Jim said I could hide out as long as I'd like.

"What's the top speed you get on that rig?" he asked, pointing a greasy, black finger at my bike. "38 mph on a downhill, when I have balls and don't feather the breaks," I told him still dripping from the wet and the kickback spray from the semis.

Crossed over the Indiana border and the rain started coming again, the drops as plunky as quarters. Pulled into Angola for the night. Cheap hotel ($38) and a bed and TV remote and air conditioning and I felt like a wet rat that had crawled off the road and got run over one more time before clearing the curb.

Awoke Wednesday morning refreshed and with a flat. Changed the tire quick and made good time headed west on Hwy 20 into Amish country near Shipshewana.

I think I'm going to become Amish because they're all riding around on sweet bikes. I stopped to talk to one little girl, about 11 years old. She wore a simple brown dress, Harriet Tubman blue headscarf, had bare feet and was riding a purple Mongoose mountain bike. I asked if I could take her picture and she said, "Amish don't like that." She was pleasant enough about it.

The photo would have been a great shot, because on the back of her bike was a little blond boy about 5 years old. He had a bowl haircut, blue overalls, white shirt, no shoes and a smile that wouldn't quit. His cushion covering the wire bike rack was an old folded dishtowel.

Within the next few miles I saw an Amish guy on a recumbent bike, another Amish kid speeding down the hill on his 10 speed, and an Amish girl with the strings of her bonnet tailing behind her as she pedaled her single speed.

I really think I could be Amish. No need for a cell phone, I do well using little electricity as it is, except for my laptop. They'd have to make an exception for that and spandex, I'd get too hot riding around in some long cotton dress. I'd also need shoes. I'm not sure what it was with the no shoes thing … even Jesus wore sandals.