When “Working” Is Not Working Well With Hearing Loss

Motorcycle helmet, gloves, hearing aid, and external microphone arranged on a leather chair.
My motorcycle communication setup combines hearing aids with an external microphone and helmet communication system.

Why I turn my hearing aid microphones off before every motorcycle ride

This post is part of the Hearing Loss & Relationships series about communication and everyday life. If you are new to the series, you can begin with the first post.

Before every motorcycle ride, I turn the microphones on my hearing aids off.

Most people think that sounds backward. I thought so too. Wouldn’t someone with hearing loss want to hear more?

But hearing more is not always the same as understanding more.

Our original motorcycle communication setup worked. The problem was that it did not work well. It gave me access to some of the conversation, but it also created competing sound, discomfort, missed information, and listening fatigue.

This story happens on a motorcycle, but the same question can apply to communication at home, at work, in restaurants, or anywhere else:

Is the strategy working, or is it working well?

The Conversations That Happen Along the Way

My husband and I love riding together through Western North Carolina and Virginia, including along the Blue Ridge Parkway. I’m the passenger, which means I get to enjoy the freedom of the open road, watch the mountains roll by, and notice the little things he might miss while concentrating on the road ahead.

We don’t talk during the entire ride. Sometimes twenty minutes passes without either of us saying a word. We’re the same way in the car. Comfortable silence has never been uncomfortable for us.

Then one of us notices something.

“Do you see the two deer down in the stream?”

“That car was way too close.”

“I’ve been thinking about food. Do you have a stop in mind?”

Somewhere along one ride, I spotted what I was sure were buffalo.

“Oh wow! Did you see the buffalo?”

“No way. Those were cows.”

“They were buffalo.”

We turned around.

They really were buffalo, standing in a pasture on a farm in western North Carolina. We laughed and snapped a couple of quick pictures.

 

 

Janelle’s husband wearing his helmet standing near a motorcycle with buffalo in a pasture behind him.

Those are the moments I remember most.

When a Hearing Loss Communication Strategy Works, but Not Well

It wasn’t always this easy.

We used to rely mostly on hand signals. Then we added a helmet communication system with speakers inside our helmets.

It worked, but “worked” and “worked well” are not always the same thing.

Wind brushed across the microphones on my hearing aids. The helmet speakers competed with everything else I was hearing. They also pressed against my hearing aids, leaving my ears sore after a long day.

As the miles added up, so did the listening fatigue.

Riding with friends made communication even harder. Once all our headsets were connected, keeping up with the conversation became work instead of fun.

Eventually, I would stop trying.

If someone was talking to me, my husband would tap my leg and point to his ear because I had missed it again.

By dinner, everyone else would be laughing and talking about the day’s ride. I wasn’t always listening to the dinner conversation because my brain was simply done.

You do not have to ride a motorcycle to recognize this feeling.

It can happen when you keep turning up the television but speech is still unclear. It can happen when someone repeats the same words several times and you still cannot understand them. It can happen when a device helps in one way but creates a different problem.

The strategy is doing something, but it is not doing enough.

I never thought about giving up riding. I just assumed this was part of riding with hearing loss. For a long time, I figured it was the tradeoff I had to accept.

 

Passenger view over a motorcycle rider’s shoulder toward a rock wall, with part of the communication system blurred in the foreground.

A Different Rider Gave Me an Idea

Then another rider mentioned that he had switched from helmet speakers to earbuds. That conversation stuck with me.

Earbuds alone would not work for me because I understand speech much better when I use my hearing aids. Riding without my hearing aids also makes me feel off balance.

Instead of copying his setup, I started wondering whether I could adapt the idea to fit my hearing and the way we ride.

I connected my helmet communication system to an external microphone using a simple auxiliary cable instead of using the helmet speakers. The sound streamed directly to my hearing aids.

Then I turned the hearing aid microphones off.

The first ride surprised me.

I could still hear a little wind, and I could feel the low rumble of the motorcycle beneath us. Those sensations became part of the background instead of competing with the conversation.

When my husband asked, “I’ve been thinking about food. Do you have a stop in mind?” I heard him the first time.

No repeating. No guessing. Just a normal conversation.

At the end of the day, something else surprised me.

I wasn’t mentally exhausted.

When we stopped for lunch, I realized I wasn’t asking my husband to fill in everything I had missed while we were riding that morning. I already knew what everyone had been talking about.

Joining the conversation finally felt like a choice instead of work.

Communication Began to Flow More Naturally

My husband noticed the difference too.

He said there was less time spent getting my attention before he started talking. He still made sure he had my attention, but it happened more naturally. There was less of a pause before the conversation began. It simply flowed better.

Finding a better setup did not mean we needed to fill every mile with conversation.

My husband and I can still spend miles without saying a word. Other times, one of us notices something worth sharing.

“Look at those deer.”

“Did you see that eagle?”

“Look at that old barn.”

We point out mountain views, interesting buildings, and places we would like to visit again. We have also spent miles talking about the rebuilding after Hurricane Helene.

Every now and then, one of us still says, “Remember those buffalo?”

He was sure they were cows. I was just as sure they weren’t.

The headset lets us talk whenever we want. Some of my favorite parts of a ride are still the quiet ones.

The difference is that the silence is now a choice. It is not the result of becoming too tired to keep listening.

 

Janelle and her husband riding a motorcycle together photographed from behind

A Hearing Loss Communication Strategy Can Still Cost Too Much

The more riders I have talked with over the years, the more I have realized that hearing loss is not unusual in the motorcycle community. Years of engine and wind noise can affect hearing.

My hearing loss did not come from riding, but I have met enough riders with hearing challenges to know I am not the only person trying to make riding work a little better.

My setup will not be the right answer for everyone. Different hearing aids, external microphones, helmets, and communication systems work differently.

What worked for me came from being willing to experiment until I found a combination that fit the way I hear and the way we ride. If you are curious about trying something similar, talk with your hearing care provider about the options that work with your hearing aids and accessories.

The point is not that everyone should turn off their hearing aid microphones.

The point is to notice when a hearing loss communication strategy is technically working but still costing too much comfort, energy, or connection.

A strategy can help you understand part of a conversation while still requiring too much effort. It can work well in one environment and poorly in another. It can solve one problem while creating a new one.

That does not mean the strategy failed. It does not mean either person did something wrong.

It may simply be time to pause, identify what is getting in the way, and try another approach together.

One Thing to Try

Think of one communication strategy that technically works but still leaves you tired, uncomfortable, frustrated, or missing information.

Ask yourself and your communication partner:

  • What part of the strategy is helping?
  • What is still making communication difficult?
  • Is the problem the strategy, environment, equipment, or timing?
  • What is one adjustment we could try?
  • Afterward, did communication require less effort?

Success is not only about how much you heard.

It is also about how much energy communication required, whether you could participate when you wanted to, and whether the strategy helped you continue doing something important to you.

If hearing loss has made you wonder whether you can still enjoy something you love, don’t assume the answer is no. You may not need to give it up. You may need to find a different way to make it work.

People still look at me a little funny when I tell them I turn the microphones on my hearing aids off before every motorcycle ride. I understand why. It sounds backward.

For me, though, it made riding easier. I spend less time worrying about what I might have missed and more time enjoying the ride.

Moving the Conversation Forward

Throughout this series, we have looked at the ways hearing loss can change everyday communication between two people.

Moving forward does not mean finding one perfect communication strategy and using it forever. Relationships, routines, environments, hearing, and technology change. The strategies that support communication may need to change too.

This article closes the public Hearing Loss & Relationships series, but the conversation is not over. I am continuing to develop these ideas as part of a future book about hearing loss, relationships, and the small communication moments that shape everyday life.

Perfect communication is not required.

What matters is being willing to notice when something is working but not working well, pause without blaming each other, and try another way together.