FlagstaffBiking.org on June 29, 2004.
Ken often speaks in mumbled whispers. And I think he knows it.
Decades of cheap headphones, hanging out too close to over-loud concert speaker towers, as well as being a teen-aged drummer with dreams far bigger than my talent, have irreparably cost me some 10 percent of my hearing, so says the doc.
Chatting in the bike shop, with all the noise of cash registers, bad ‘80s music, and customers all around; or when he’s riding up-ahead of me; or when he’s on the telephone (even my answering machine struggles often with his tone and occasionally hangs up on him), I regularly cannot make sense of what Ken is saying.
It's possible that it’s really not his fault; I’m about 50-percent convinced that it's the background noise that interferes with the way his voice flows to my damaged ears.
On the other hand, he might just be messing with me.