Only in Indiana. My Dad e-mailed to let me know that he’d narrowly missed being involved in a hit-and-run Saturday night… with an Amishman’s runaway team of Clydesdale horses.
Important Note
This site features content going all the way back to 2000. The posts you’ll read reflect my views and writing style at the time. While I have gone back to clean up a few of them, I think it’s important not to sanitise too much. This site is a record of who I am and how I’ve grown. Any blog post written years ago may not reflect who I am today, nor how I would write about the same topic today.
Comments
7 responses to “”
I think im traumatized by the whole incident, I may never be the same again.
Remind me never to buy you a Budweiser. 🙂
Every time my old roommate gets stuck in New Jersey by a farmer taking his cows across the road, she calls me. She went to mom’s w/ me once and Shipshewana is forever etched in her brain. 🙂
giggles.
I’m glad he’s ok.
If I was going to die by a tragic accident, it would be by Clydesdale.
When we went to Berrigan, I would nearly hyperventilate when we saw anything that was extraordinarily rural, like farmers taking cars across the road etc.
I have rural envy.
You need to come visit Indiana, Helen. I took a couple friends from college home there on one break and they squealed every time they saw an Amish buggy. And there are *lots* of Amish buggies.
My friend from Buffalo wanted to know who cleaned up after the horses in the road. My response? Well, it’s not a parade and it *is* biodegradable.