The Sound of Fog

Etra Lake 

22 January 2017

"Are you a cyborg today?" Pete wanted to know if I was wearing my new hearing aids as we pushed off from my house to meet Tom and whomever else at Mercer County Park.

"Yep." They were snug under my hat, protected from the wind. The air was chilly and damp, and the roads were still a little wet from the previous day's rain. Whenever a car passed by, the sound was irritatingly loud. More noise I'll have to get used to.

Chris and Bob were at the park with Tom, and so was Joe (the only one smart enough to have brought a bike with fenders). I felt a little warm, so I took my hat off.

That's when the wind noise started. My hearing aids have three microphones, the largest one sitting on the top towards the front. There's nothing to baffle it from the wind, and, despite my audiologist's adjustments and assurances, and despite the aids' apparent ability to "learn" what background noise is, the loud, sharp crackle would not go away. Especially in my right ear. It must be at the same frequency the aids are attempting to amplify to make up for my deficit.  Heading into the wind was the worst, unless I cocked my head a little to the right, which is no way to spend half a ride.

"I need a baffle," I said to Bob and Pete, who are safely nerdy enough (in a good way!) to appreciate my musings.  "What I need is a little rubber band to put on either side of the mic."

Pete was doubtful. Bob thought I was crazy.  I thought that if I could come up with a solution I would save myself a few thousand dollars of investment in a set of in-the-ear aids to use outdoors.

It finally dawned on me that what I needed was foam to cover the microphone the way foam covers microphones and headphones. And I realized that, somewhere in my house, was a spare set or two of foam ear bud covers.  Meanwhile, I'd have to continue to move my head around.

Aside from that, it was a good ride. Because I brought my camera with me, I finally had the chance to take pictures of flatlands that we usually blow right past.

One of those is the farm at the corner of Hill Road and Arneytown-Hornerstown Road.

Another is the seemingly permanent road closure across from the farm. Tom said something blogworthy here, something someone else told me I should quote, and I've completely forgotten what it is.  It had to do with his decision not to tempt fate. I suppose our tradition of blowing past road closures is weather-dependent. This is the second time in three weeks that I've gone around, rather than through, a closed road.

On our way back from New Egypt, I stopped to take pictures of Doctors Creek on Davis Station Road in Imlaystown:

There was enough splut on Kermit (both the frog and the frame) that I had to hose both of them off when I got home.

In the afternoon, I dug around and found two pairs of vintage ear bud covers. When I pulled one of them over one of my hearing aids, the foam immediately ripped, but it fit snugly and covered the microphone.

I wanted to test this out on Sunday morning. At 7:00 a.m. I got out of bed and looked out to the street. The road was damp under fog. I called Winter Larry. He sounded like he wanted to go but wasn't sure anyone else would. When I said I was game, he said he'd be in Cranbury.

Half an hour before leaving the house, I decided I should take Gonzo, who I'd bought for dirty winter road rides, rather than Kermit, who'd had one bath already this weekend. That meant switching wheels from the sludgy ones I use on the trainer to the prima donna ones I use outside. I was kind of proud of myself for being able to make the swap, throw on a headlight, and fill the tires in a matter of minutes.

The fog was sometimes thick on the drive over to Cranbury. I'd want to bring the camera.

There were four Fastboys in the parking lot. When I saw them, I decided to leave the camera in the car. Larry persuaded me to bring it along.

As we proceeded along Station Road east of 130, I felt more tired than I ought to have. I was having trouble getting Gonzo to move. It felt the way I sometimes feel in my dreams, when I can't get my pedals to turn or my legs to work. I also heard something strange from my back wheel. With the entire group far ahead of me, I stopped.

The wheel had slipped and was rubbing against a brake pad. I re-seated the wheel and hopped back on. That's more like it!  I caught up and apologized. "Mechanical," I said.

As we cruised along, I noticed that I didn't hear any screeching wind at all.  Hallelujah!

We turned into Thompson Park in Jamesburg, where the fog behind the trees was irresistible. At the top of the hill, I dismounted to take pictures. When I looked back, I saw that I wasn't the only one.

When I stepped on the pedals again, the wheel slipped again. Nobody noticed, though, because they were a few yards down the road, using the bathroom. This time I tightened the skewer even harder; I'd forgotten how finicky this frame is about that. This time it held.

A little while later, I noticed loud wind noise in my left ear, and it wasn't until I peeled my outer glove off and felt around that I realized the aid had slipped off from behind my ear. With the tube and plug still snug in my ear, the top was bouncing around. The same fFstboy who had hung back with me when my wheel started rubbing (before taking off) saw me fumbling around and asked if I was OK. I'd already popped it back into place (my old aids used to do this with frightening regularity, which is why I never wanted to try them outside) at that point.

Partly because of the fog, and partly because I'd told Larry that I'd prefer a short route (I had to be somewhere in the early afternoon), we skipped the rest stop.  Instead, while the Fastboys were waiting at a corner for me and Larry to catch up, they began munching on energy bars. I reached into my pockets, sure that I'd packed one, but I couldn't feel it. Larry offered me a chunk of his bagel. The Fastboy who had witnessed my previous fumbles must have thought I was a right mess.

Some days are like this.

As we rounded the corner from Disbrow Hill to Etra, a driver pulled up and asked for directions. It took the group a while to set them straight, so I wandered over to the edge of Etra Lake for a few pictures. The fog was starting to lift.

I'm glad I brought my camera because I finally got a picture of the moose on South Main Street in Hightstown. It's been there for years, and, being so close to the end of the ride, I've always sped on past.

At the end of the ride, I pulled off my hearing aids to see how they'd fared.

If I'm careful, I could get another ride or two out of these before having to toss them. I'm not worried, though, because I found, on Amazon, of course, a pack of 120 pairs of covers*. In several colors. This makes me happy. I can finally get funky with my hearing aids. It's what I've wanted all along.


(This begs the question of who, besides a nerd like me wanting to muffle hearing aid wind amplification, would ever need 120 pairs of ear bud covers. Whatever.)