Four For The Books

We cross over into Indiana and I see:

1. A bald man walking down the road. Shirtless. Tattoos dance around his neck, shoulders and chest. No, wait. Ewwww. That's no tatoo! It's a mighty python, undulating, twisting around itself and the man's neck and shoulders and then dangling down his chest. Shudder.

2. A road crew of six morbidly obese men. One of the big guys drives a piece of heavy equipment that has independent left and right hand steering guides that nearly disappear into his belly folds. He rams his hands into his flab to grab hold of the handles. And he drives quite well.

3. An Amish man, maybe he's Mennonite, on a recumbent bike. He sits Peter-Fonda low, holds his hands high and wide on the handlebars and probably dreams of the wind in his hair.

4. Sadly, instant potatoes on my plate. At a large, touristy Amish-style restaurant. Where the chicken was bland, the noodles mushy, the corn salty, the bread hard and, thankfully, the stuffing perfect.