ON THE MARK

MARK BYERS

This afternoon was a warm, autumn chance to take a Triumph ride. I had the excuse of dropping off a package - as if I needed one - but the route was purposefully convoluted. The trees have turned brilliant hues of red, yellow, and orange and the fallen leaves spun in little tornadoes as the Speed Triple left eddy currents in its wake. The temperature was perfect for a jacket with its hatches thrown open while the low autumnal sun dappled the road.

My route took me off the well-traveled paths and into the farmlands that make up much of this county. Not far from where I live starts a swath of farms inhabited by Amish and Old-Order Mennonite people that extends a distance of about fty miles. The villages are aptly named, like “Loveville,” as are roads like “Friendship School.” I usually pass the Friendship Buggy Shop, the local equivalent of a vehicle repair service. Their one-horsepower vehicles run the gamut from two-seat carts to fully-enclosed family “vans” with battery-powered, LED electric lights and hydraulic brakes.

The farms are easily recognized by the absence of electric wires and paved driveways, but they’re frequently adorned with signs hawking everything from fresh eggs to other goods and services. I love doing business with them, as they are inherently honest and are excellent craftsmen. I took my neighbor’s fancy treadmill to Wenger’s Motor and for $75 they replaced the bearings (parts and labor), whereas the fancy-brand service was going to be $300 just to look at it. A friend needed a bushing for a sander and they sold him a better one for the princely sum of seventy- ve cents.

Don’t get me wrong: they’re no strangers to making money and for something like their handmade furniture or a hand-stitched quilt, you’re going to pay a good price (and wait a while), but you can be sure it’ll hold together long after the mass-produced stuff has broken. Some people are intimidated by the plain folk and think they’re humorless, but we nd quite the opposite. Everyone from Manasseh Yoder to Leon Weaver has been friendly and even delightfully funny…as long as you show them some respect. I was honored to be invited into the Stauffer’s home to see a new baby, their ninth, but it was following a long-term, mutually-bene cial business relationship.

If you are respectful, friendly, and fair, you’ll get that in return. Refrain from coarse language and while a little haggling isn’t out of the question, there’s a limit (remember - big families) and their prices for things like produce are usually very good. Bring cash and never expect business on Sunday. One thing for them, in this age where every phone has a camera, is NOT to take their photos as it is against their beliefs to have “craven images” made. You can photograph the horse and buggy, the house, and the farm, but refrain from anything where a recognizable image of their faces can be seen. If in doubt, ask. Don’t take them for fools: they use three languages and while children don’t go past middle school, they can do math in circles around you. This evening, I was reminded about riding among the plain folk. Sundays after church, they visit friends and family so expect traf c. As I came over a rise on Friendship School, two young men in a two-seater were waiting to make a left onto Bishop. I was moving at a sedate pace and although they were stopped, expecting me to pass, I signaled for them to turn ahead of me. Their horses are usually really well-behaved, but I give them wide berth lest the motorcycle frighten them. They waved in acknowledgement of my wave, which is common. They also use bicycles, so be prepared for them too.

Another thing to remember when in buggy country is that the horses Continued on Page 38