"It comes in any color you want, so long as it's black."

Surprisingly enough, there's still personal transportation manufactured to Henry Ford's most famous specification.

While an Ohio Amishman can order his buggy with seating for two, or six or more, with a windshield or without, for hauling a large family to Sunday services or pigs to auction, with one "horsepower" or more rarely, two, he can be sure of one thing -- that buggy will be black.

An Amish buggy is plain, practical and always appropriate, especially convenient features for a vehicle built to last a lifetime. After 10 or 15 years, the wheels may need to be replaced, or the interior recovered, but the basic works of a buggy -- the wooden framework, the axles and the steel springs -- are nearly indestructible. Furthermore, a horse and buggy serves as an all-weather vehicle that will roll right through snow too deep for automobiles.

There are nearly 30 buggy manufacturers in Wayne and Holmes counties. Each is capable of producing some three dozen custom-made, hand-built buggies each year, most of which stay right in the immediate area. Some buggies, however, are shipped all over the United States. The wait, from the time an order is placed to the time the buggy is delivered, can be as long as a year-and-a-half at some of the more popular shops.

To the untrained eye, the buggies look as alike as peas in a pod, but each one has been built to its owner's specifications, which depend in part, on the rules and customs of his church district. For old order Amish, the buggy will have steel-rimmed wheels and the side curtains will roll up. New Order Amish may have rubber rims on their tires for a quieter, more comfortable ride, and sliding doors. The very conservative Swartzentruber Amish won't be ordering the Plexiglas windshield, headlights or taillights, opting instead for a single kerosene lantern on the side. In years past, the reflective tape on the back was omitted, too, although through talks between some Swartzentruber Amish and highway safety officials, most Amish now sport the bright orange reflective triangle and/or reflective tape around the edges of the back of their buggy.

There's a fancy, scalloped sunscreen across the front, just beneath the top of the buggy that's popular with young people, but their elders seem to prefer something a little plainer. Other options to be considered when ordering a new buggy include a hand-operated windshield wiper, brakes, headlights of shiny chrome and even a dome light inside.

Although the newest buggies are quite comfortable and weather resistant, with propane heaters and storm screens, many older folk keep warm on bitter days with lap blankets and gallon plastic milk jugs filled with hot water.

One genial Amish used-buggy salesman insists all his vehicles come with air-conditioning as standard equipment, as he demonstrates the roll-up curtains on sides and rear. He points to a key dangling from a switch in the center of the buggy's dash.

"Know what that's for?" he asks. "To start the engine, of course."

A tourist, solemnly listening to the man's colorful spiel, looks momentarily puzzled, then asks how to operate the battery-powered headlights.

While black is the only color available for the outside of Amish buggies here in Ohio, the interior can be any one of a rainbow of shades. Upholstery material is usually a crushed velvet, often a rich royal blue or emerald green, although choices range in fanciness from the simplest black leatherette to a deep pile plush. Little rumble seats can be built into the back of the standard buggy, just right for the small children who can often be seen peeking out through the back, waving shyly to motorists (yes, you can most certainly wave back). Most buggy shops order the wooden wheels, the axles, bearings and steel springs from other suppliers. The framework of the buggy itself, the upholstery and the shafts to which the horse is harnessed are generally produced in the carriage-maker's shop. The framing is mostly of poplar, ash, masonite and plywood, and the wheels are made from hickory. All the exterior woodwork is painted with numerous coats of black enamel and buffed to a high gloss.

While a buggy shop doesn't quite operate like Henry Ford's assembly line, in a typical operation, there are often two or three buggies in several stages of completion. There may be a couple being framed in one part of the shop, while the paint is drying on several others. In yet another area, the carriage-maker's wife or sister staples upholstery fabric to a nearly completed buggy and sews seat cushions.

By one buggy builder's estimate, there are 100 man-hours in the building of a good carriage, and his family-run shop figures to roll out three a month. His customers know they'll have to put their order in at least nine months ahead of time.

Amish carriage-makers generally will use pneumatic tools such as paint sprayers and staplers that are driven by a diesel-powered air compressor, but most of the shops have no electrical power. The workers build by the light of kerosene lamps on cloudy days. As one buggy-maker explained it, "the compressed air is good for powering the tools -- and that's all. If you open the door to electric tools, though, it's hard to draw the line there, and pretty soon, you have television and all the rest."

An Amish boy will begin to harness a horse himself and drive buggies short distances as soon as he is tall enough to do the job, perhaps 10 years old. He will likely be given his first buggy, a used one, when he's 14 or 15, just out of school (Amish children attend school through the 8th grade). He will be working as a hired hand, often on nearby farms, and bringing his paycheck home to his parents for the next five years or more. When he's about 21, or when he gets married, his parents will buy him a brand new buggy, an investment of between $2,000 and $3,000, horse and harness not included.

Boys being boys, it's not entirely unheard of for teenagers to hold late-night buggy races on back country roads. The buggy horses are often ones that didn't quite make the grade on the harness racing circuit, but are still pretty spirited animals. Although such goings-on are unsanctioned by Amish parents, it's a natural temptation for a young man with a frisky horse and a fine lightweight buggy to see what she'll do -- especially when challenged.

According to one buggy-maker, there's surprisingly little damage to vehicle or driver from the rare accidental encounter between two buggies. Accidents between buggies and cars or trucks, of course, are another story.

While Amish girls learn early to harness the horses and drive buggies, they don't generally own their own buggies unless they've remained unmarried. Young women receive trousseaus of dishes, linens and furniture, instead.

By the time an Amish family is established on a farm, its shed will hold an assortment of carts, hacks and buggies, and perhaps even a sleigh. Each vehicle is meant for a specific purpose. The newest buggy, usually a single-seater, is kept polished to an immaculate shine, and is used for special occasions, such as weddings and funerals, and for transporting the family to church services, which are held every other week at the home of one of the families in their church district.

There may be several buggies for everyday use, depending on how many children in the family are old enough to drive. A large family might own a two-seat buggy, which is the Amish version of the station wagon. Naturally, no self-respecting young man would dream of borrowing the stodgy two-seater to take to the Sunday evening social.

Farmers often use the horse-drawn equivalent of a pickup truck, called a hack, which has a long narrow bed, good for taking bales of hay or a hog to market, or bringing home enough groceries for a very large family. A hack may be an open wagon, with cargo space behind the driver's seat, or it may be a "top-hack," with an enclosed cab to shield its occupants from bad weather.

Horse-drawn carriages, aside from being practical, durable and dependable, are central to the Amish way of life. In their efforts to avoid worldliness, Amish folk strive to keep their families close to home and centered around an agricultural lifestyle.

While they will accept rides with non-Amish people or hire drivers to take them for a distance, owning cars is, as one Amish woman puts it, "too easy." The temptation to just hop in the car and go to town, or across the country, leads to a fragmentation of the society and exposes them to a world that is too fast and glitzy to be compatible with the plain way of life.

Few buggy-makers seem to have much idea of the history behind their craft. An elderly Amishman, when asked why buggies developed to their present style, shrugged his shoulders and justified the tradition with a phrase that explains to many things Amish: "It's just our way."