Hanks writes an Op-Ed in the New York Times about his love for typewriters, and the sounds they make:
In 1978, the proprietor of a Cleveland business machine shop refused to service my mostly plastic typewriter. “A worthless toy!” the man yelled. Yes, yelled. He pointed to shelves full of his refurbished typewriters — already decades old yet all in perfect working order. A typewriter was a machine, he yelled, which could be dropped from an airplane and still work! He gave me a deal on a Hermes 2000 (“The Cadillac of typewriters!”)
I confess that when real work has to be done — documents with requirements equal to a college term paper — I use a computer. The start and stop of writing begs for the fluidity of modern technology, and who doesn’t love choosing a new font like Franklin Gothic Medium, Bernard MT Condensed or Plantagenet Cherokee?
The sound of typing is one reason to own a vintage manual typewriter — alas, there are only three reasons, and none of them are ease or speed. In addition to sound, there is the sheer physical pleasure of typing; it feels just as good as it sounds, the muscles in your hands control the volume and cadence of the aural assault so that the room echoes with the staccato beat of your synapses.