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Friday, August 24, 2007

Oh, Ken

I first met Ken through a friend of mine, D. He bought one of those turn-by-turn direction, GPS thingies that goes in your car and set the voice to one of the free, factory-installed ones, one called Ken. Here's a photo of Ken I found:

I grew to adore Ken's voice, his use of the word "motorway" in lieu of of "highway", his gentle persistence when his directives were not followed properly. I began to recognize his speech patterns and find them hilarious when I (or D., who developed a wicked imitation of Ken) could predict them. But then D. loaned Ken to someone and then Ken's battery was dead and next he was in the trunk under something heavy or some such. In short, Ken faded out of my life.

Today I was sitting at the top of the ramp off Silas Creek onto Stratford when I heard the unmistakable, dulcet tones of my dear Ken. I was confused because usually one doesn't hear sounds car-to-car, even with windows open, and Ken's not much for high volume as I remember. Then I saw him.


I'm just glad to know he's alive and well.
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