Blinded by Headlights, Saved by a Ball Cap: A Used-Car Story

Be It Ever So Humble... My New Ride

For the last several years, I’ve been getting burned out on nighttime driving—and by “burned out,” I mean literally blinded. I’m tired of piloting a low-profile sedan through a world dominated by SUVs and trucks armed with retina-searing headlights. Somewhere between my squinting eyes and my muttered commentary about modern lighting standards, I decided this was the week to bite the bullet.It was time to look for something taller than my trusty 2012 Malibu.

My needs were simple—almost boring, really. I wanted something reliable, with just enough elevation to save my eyesight but low enough that my mother-in-law could get in without a running start. A small-to-medium SUV would do nicely. Heated seats were non-negotiable. And I wasn’t about to drop forty grand just to impress friends or neighbors. I’ve never owned a new car and don’t plan to start now. Anything that loses 20% of its value the moment you drive it off the lot strikes me as the automotive definition of insanity.

So off I went car shopping.

Actually, I went to my desk—because that’s how it’s done now.

Virtual car shopping is today’s reality, and you’d better have fast fingers. Anything remotely worthwhile gets snapped up in a heartbeat. Facebook Marketplace? A swamp of dealers posing as private sellers, scammers, and listings that disappear faster than free donuts in a break room. Actual private sellers? Practically extinct. It feels like dealers are using AI—or dark magic—to vacuum up every decent car before real humans even see them.

I miss the old way: walking up to a car with a “For Sale” sign, chatting with the owner, reading the body language, and slowly triangulating the lowest price they’d actually accept. That art form appears to be endangered or extinct.

The online results were bleak. Finding a decent used SUV at a reasonable price felt like unicorn hunting. Plenty of SUV’s with high mileage and high prices. Very little in the $15–17K range I was targeting.

Here’s where modern tech actually helped. I leaned on ChatGPT to research common maintenance issues by model and year (highly recommended), identify which dealers had decent reputations, and even sharpen my negotiation strategy. With my digital wingman, I didn’t feel quite so much like a lamb headed for slaughter. Information really is power.

Yesterday, I put on my business face, grabbed my USAF Veteran ball cap, and headed into the used-car jungle with a short list of candidates. First stop: a good-looking Kia Sportage at a decent price. I arrived just in time to have some young sales guy tell me that someone else drove it off for a test drive—ten minutes ahead of me. I knew immediately that ship had sailed.  

Two more dealerships. Two more whiffs.

The sun was dropping. My mood followed it down. I was ready to call it quits when a last-minute idea popped into my head: Why not just try the Kia dealership and see what happens?

With the last bit of daylight fading, I pulled into the lot, stepped out into a wind that instantly transported me back to Chicago style winters, and was greeted by a salesman about my age. I didn’t waste time. Thirty seconds, tops. Here’s what I need. Here’s what I won’t do. He didn’t look optimistic—but pointed to a Sportage way in the back. Almost dark. Just over 100K miles. Decent shape.

Then he said the magic words.

“We just took in a Chevy Equinox on trade this afternoon. Long-time customer. Full maintenance records. That’s the one you need to see.”

Hmm. Why not?

He wasn’t kidding. It was clean. Solid. We took it for a drive—at night, of course—and it handled beautifully. Back inside, we hadn’t even talked price yet when his manager walked in, noticed my ball cap, and launched into stories about his two sons—one an Air Force colonel, the other a Marine.

Suddenly, it wasn’t a negotiation. It was three old guys swapping war stories.

That conversation earned me a nice discount before we even discussed numbers—comfortably within Kelley Blue Book. I asked them to throw in new brakes and a new battery for good measure, and they agreed. We sealed the deal yesterday morning and I'll pick it up next week.

In the end, there was nothing digital about it. No algorithms. No online wizardry. Just a few old guys doing what old guys do best: telling stories, building trust, and mixing in a little business.

Sometimes it’s good to be old—and leave the online stuff to the kids.

I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. If you value humor mixed with serious reflections about life on this blue marble we all share, please pass this along.

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Happy New Year — and thanks for reading.

Another Christmas Miracle at 3rd Street Coffeehouse

 

The Money Shot

    3rd Street Coffeehouse is a place of minor miracles, especially around Christmas time. This past Saturday night, we proved that once again. I say “we” because there’s no single person that makes it happen. It’s a bunch. It’s a community. It’s a whole village. Let me tell you about it.

2025, as a whole, has been a really weird year in America. We all seem more than a little off balance because of things happening (and not happening) around the world and especially in Washington DC.  Earlier in the fall, the U.S. House of Representatives decided to take a few days off because they couldn’t agree on the budget for the country. More than a few days actually. That didn’t really bother me (or a lot of others) because they are a rather toxic and ineffective lot. But as their extended vacation got longer and longer, general safety net programs like food stamps became a political weapon. With grocery prices already through the roof this year, and food banks running low, it was looking pretty grim for low income Americans in Southwest Virginia. The thought of depression era bread lines returning was nauseating to say the least. Local guitar wizard Keith Goggin called me up and said “we need to do something”. We needed to put together a fund-raising benefit concert for Feeding Southwest Virginia. Keith offered to bring his whole band.

Holding a benefit concert takes a little more than just throwing open the doors and cranking out the jams. First of all, you have to find a free date in everyone’s schedule – not the easiest thing with gigging musicians. Second, you’ve got to promote the show, get people to show up and be willing to part with their hard earned money. Show up for people that they probably don’t know, and may never know, unless they volunteer at the food bank or are a person in need. It takes a special kind of person to see a need or join a cause, and then support it with money or something else of actual value. Fortunately, big-hearted and generous people seem to like live original music and, in particular, an itty-bitty music venue called 3rd Street Coffeehouse. They punch way above their weight when it comes time to show up for our community.

Keith and I teamed up with David Dantzler and Lisa Uhl of Feeding Southwest Virginia, along with songwriters and performers Randolph Thomas, Mike DeGiorgi and Larry Sakayama.  We hatched a plan to host a concert last Saturday night and have a huge raffle to go with it. Local businesses like Fret Mill Music, Martin’s Downtown, The Grandin Theatre, The Jefferson Center, The Harvester, and The Spot On Kirk, all came through with great raffle prizes. Local authors like Beth Macy, Bruce Bryan and many others from the Persiflage Writers Group, provided signed original books to raffle off. The prize list grew, and so did community interest and advance raffle ticket sales. Local media including the Roanoke Times, WSLS and WDBJ-7 ran features about the concert and all over social media, people liked and shared our posts. The anticipation and excitement were palpable, and everyone seemed happy to be able to strike a blow for decency for our community of friends and neighbors who needed help.

The final week was not without challenges.  My mother-in-law was hospitalized. The venue went without power for several days due to building renovations and bad weather. Calls for help and more than a few prayers went up, when things got dicey.  But the music and the community would not be denied. Saturday night, with a full house, roughly 1,500 raffle tickets sold and a sheet cake from Sam’s Club, we cranked out the jams all night and raised over $4,000 to feed the people. Better yet, the Board of Directors for Feeding Southwest Virginia dug deep into their own pockets and provided a 100% match.  With that match, we raised well over $8,000 to support our community through the power of music. That's over 16,000 meals. For a small venue, we’ve sure got a great crowd of volunteers and fans, all of whom came together to solve a problem that affects us all – a minor miracle for sure.  I couldn’t be prouder of them. What a way to celebrate the season of giving and honor our traditions at 3rd Street Coffeehouse. If you were there or supported us in any way, my eternal thanks and gratitude go out to you.

I welcome your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. Please share this post with others who value both humor and serious stuff about this blue marble that we all share.

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Illegitimi Non Carborundum - Happy Thanksgiving

 

 

    I started out the month of November a little down in the dumps.  The longest ever government shutdown, the resulting pause in SNAP benefits and mass firings of government employees was both alarming and depressing. The increased number of homeless people pleading for help with cardboard signs while the Government continues to drastically cut or eliminate social safety net programs was and remains emotionally overwhelming and devastating to watch. Reports of daily Russian missile, drone and artillery attacks on Ukrainian civilians and their infrastructure, and multiple war crimes is frightening and appalling. The political divisions in this country and daily chaos coming out of Washington are worse than at any time I can remember. The thought of celebrating Thanksgiving in the midst of all of this suffering seemed both pointless and insensitive.   

    I needed to dig deeper than normal to find my gratitude.  Fortunately, there are a few November days that are worth celebrating and being grateful for. I started to focus on the positive, to try and balance out the negative. 

    My daughter Sarah was born on November 7th of 1983.  I remember holding her as a little baby. We went through some rough years when she was a teenager, which was very understandable as her mom and I had divorced when she was very young. But that's all water under the bridge, and we get along fine now, and I’m grateful for that.  

    I met my wife Denise the day after Thanksgiving in 1985. I was unemployed, broke and living with my dad, but she decided to ask me to her company's Christmas party a few weeks later. I spent that Christmas with her and her family, including her daughters Jennifer and Stephanie. We got married in 1988 and have been together ever since. I’m grateful for that, our home and a long career that I just retired from a couple of months ago. 

    In November of 2022, my friend Heather wrote an article for the local newspaper on two Ukrainian war refugees, a mother and her son who had wound up in Roanoke.  That mother and son became my “bonus” daughter and grandson and brought a whole new group of Ukrainian friends into my life. I was recently asked what I had learned about the Ukrainian people and I was quick to reply “they are just like us”. That was quickly followed by “I love Ukrainian food!”. I’m grateful for all of that and all of them.  

    This month, I was invited to play my music for a couple of places and had a short story published in a book that was published this month. I finished my first co-written song with my writing partner Dan and got to play a couple of song circles (which I refer to as group therapy). All of that to say that my creative outlets are doing well. I’m very grateful for that. 

    While the other problems I mentioned at the beginning of this post are just as real and important now as they were on November 1st, at least I have good solid reasons to feel some Thanksgiving gratitude and not become overwhelmed by everything else. I’m working hard to create change in places where I can, and I’m grateful for the ability and opportunity to do so. We all have a part to play in making the world a little better, so I say to all of us, Illegitimi non carborundum. That’s a mock Latin phrase that means “Don’t Let The Bastards Grind You Down”.  Whatever events or bastards are grinding you down this month, take a minute to reflect on the good things in your life to be grateful for. Then, hopefully, we can all help to bring about some positive change in the world. I’d be grateful for that and so would you.  Happy Thanksgiving. 

    I welcome your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. Please share this post with others who value both humor and serious stuff about this blue marble that we all share. 

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The Tigers of Joliet West

The Water Tower and Joliet West High School
Photo courtesy of www.jolietfromabove.com

I looked in the mirror and halfway expected to see a mop of thick black hair and a teenager's furry caterpillar mustache. The face looking back at me wasn’t the one from fifty years ago. In my mind, fifty years wasn’t that long ago. I just needed a time machine and a decent song to get there.  

1975 was a pretty good year for me, and a lot of my friends.  We were high school seniors that year; young dreamers headed for the future. We cruised McDonalds with the Eagles, Linda Ronstadt and Doobie Brothers crankin’ loud.  We took our dates to great movies like Jaws, Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein.  Gas was cheap - about 50 cents a gallon and you could buy a hamburger at McDonalds for about 30 cents. We had it pretty good.  Good things don’t last forever, but good friends can. Especially those who share a bond of shared experience and memories. The class of '75 had held up well for fifty years and there was a lot of positive energy and anticipation for our 50-year reunion.

Two years ago, fellow classmate and songwriter Terry Schnell said to me “we’ve got a reunion coming up - we should write songs”.  Of course I agreed.  Give me a two year lead time, and I can agree to almost anything.  Writing a “one and done” song for a specific occasion didn’t seem like a huge task. Then, about 3 months later, Terry came to town and said “hey, listen to this song that I wrote for the reunion”.  He played it and I was instantly struck by how insanely good it was.  The guy writes and performs like Dan Fogelburg.  I also realized that he had set the bar pretty high and I’d better write a song that didn’t embarrass me in comparison.  The heat was on.

Fast forward to about two months ago.  I had procrastinated and put off writing my reunion song, partially out of knowing it would be played either right before or right after Terry’s song in front of our fellow classmates.  It was just a little intimidating.  While songwriting isn’t a competitive sport, I knew it would be compared to Terry’s, and I didn’t want to be remembered as the guy who wrote the crappy song.  On a Saturday night that I had planned to go see a minor league ball game, the sky turned black, and the rain came down like it was coming out of a firehose.  It was a clear sign from God that I needed to write the reunion song that night. I gathered up my memories and began to write.  

Summing up four years of your life in a couple verses and a chorus takes some effort, but within an hour or so, I had a pretty good first draft of the lyrics and a melody to go with it. It checked all the boxes - good imagery, decent hook, reasonable melody, and above all, not too complex. I recorded a simple version of it with my phone and sent it around to some songwriter friends for feedback. I took some of their ideas and tried them out; I liked the result.  After several rounds of rewrites (typical for me), I was pretty satisfied.  After that, I just needed to play it about a hundred times and burn it into my memory.  I didn’t want to screw it up.

We had the reunion about two weeks ago and over two nights, we partied like it was 1975.  Well, maybe not. But the same old spirit was there. It was amazing to share the old memories and life stories with so many old friends.  On Saturday night, Terry and I took the stage in the front of the room and took turns singing our original songs for a half hour or so. We both finished up with our reunion songs, one after another. As expected, Terry’s song, “Reunion”, was terrific and well received.  I followed with mine, “The Tigers of Joliet West”, which was equally well received. Our classmates and spouses gave us both a standing ovation and requested encore songs, which we were happy to provide.  

It was a pretty amazing experience and afterwards, a lot of people came up to compliment Terry and myself.  Another classmate, Steve Thomas, followed us with his jazz quartet and they were just great for the rest of the evening.  If you wish, you can hear Terry’s song, “Reunion” here and my song, “The Tigers of Joliet West” here. Here are the lyrics to my song.

The Tigers of Joliet West

Bob Schmucker © 2025

The water tower stands, still guarding the high school

Just like it did, 50 years ago 

The buildings are bigger, and I’m a bit older

And it's good to come back home

Looking to the past, I remember the hallways.  

I remember the teachers, the laughter, my friends.

The questions and dreams, as we reached for the future

The issues of life we’d contend

The future it called and each of us answered

We raised up our glasses and hoped for the best

18 years old, how could we have known

What a life time of memories we had

Some went to work, and some went to college

Some joined the Army or or Air Force I’m told

Some they got married and some would die young

And some moved to places unknown

I am a writer, who lives in Virginia

Grateful for each of us here

To hear your life story, and see you again

And cherish the memories we share

The future it called and each of us answered

We raised up our glasses and hoped for the best

18 years old, how could we have known

What a lifetime of friendship we'd have

We’re the Tigers of Joliet West

I welcome your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. Please share this post with others who value both humor and serious stuff about this blue marble that we all share.

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September 9th, 1980

    As I look back on my life and career, there several things I look back on and feel like they were really important. September 9th, 1980, was a red letter day for me.  Any success I achieved over the last 45 years can be traced directly back to that day. It began with high winds and torrential rains from Tropical Storm Danielle over Lackland Air Force Base, where I had just completed Officer Training School (OTS) for the United States Air Force.  In the 90 days since my arrival, I had been transformed from a long-haired civilian into an extremely young and inexperienced military officer - otherwise known as a 2nd Lieutenant, a "butter bars" or, if you come from OTS, a "90-Day Wonder". 

    The parade that had been scheduled to mark the commissioning of Officer Training School Class 80-15 was officially cancelled, so we received our commissions and 2nd Lt. insignia in the nondescript barracks classrooms and were told that we should expedite our travel plans as the weather was getting worse. There would be no fancy parade, speeches or throwing our caps into the air for us; just some quick handshakes, a few hugs, and a Captain pinning on my brand new butter bars.  Then, we all packed and left for our technical training assignments.  For me, that meant Aircraft Maintenance Officers Course at Chanute, AFB in Rantoul, Illinois.

    I was OK with the ceremony being cancelled, as I’ve never been much for ceremonial pomp and circumstance. Marching and drill practice weren't my best skills either. My parents had offered to come down to see the parade and commissioning, but I told them it would be ridiculously hot, and they wouldn’t really see much from the reviewing stands. Lucky for them, they didn’t drive the almost 1,200 miles just to get washed out by a tropical storm. 

    My stint as a military officer didn’t result from a long held dream or even any great streak of patriotism. In the bleak job market of 1979 - the year I graduated from Western Illinois University - it looked like the best of several less than impressive opportunities. I could have managed a sporting goods department for K-Mart or a bowling alley somewhere in Iowa. But the call of fighter jets sounded more enticing than either of those options, or even the union carpenter job that I held in college (one, among many jobs along my path). 

    I had no idea how those years would shape my career as I started. My flightline years gave me leadership responsibilities that most people don’t see until at least 20 years into a civilian career. I took MBA classes from Golden Gate University at night in trailer classrooms. Uncle Sam paid for them, and I got the degree. I got to be a part of transitioning the 58th Tactical Training Wing from F-4C fighter jets to the brand new F-16’s, working with logistics experts from Wright Patterson Air Force Base and engineers and support personnel from General Dynamics. It was the most amazing engineering training curriculum you could imagine. Best of all, I got to work with, under and for, many outstanding leaders, who taught me what real leadership and integrity are. That included both non-commissioned and commissioned officers as well as civilians.

    When I separated from the Air Force in 1984 (a horrible decision on my part), I left as an experienced military officer, which is the best calling card in the world when looking for a job. I remember one interview where a top VP looked at me sternly and told me that the job I was interviewing for would have a lot of stress. He asked me very directly how I handled stress. I smiled and told him that I was trained to make hard decisions when bullets were flying and people were dying. Then I asked him what kind of stress they had. He told me that was the best answer he’d ever heard. I got the job.

    Every job I’ve held over the last 45 years can be traced back to a rainy day on September 9th, 1980. I am a ridiculously lucky and immensely fortunate guy to have been blessed with that incredible experience. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. To be honest, I wish that they took old bald guys. I’d go back again in a heartbeat.

    I welcome your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. Please share this post with others who value both humor and serious stuff about this blue marble that we all share.

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Elvis Has Left The Building

 

August 14th, 2025 - Elvis Is Gone!

“Retirement is just a dream as far as I can see

Like the dream I had, when I was young, of the good life for you and me”

“Midlife Crisis” by Bob Schmucker (2014)

    Retirement - I’ve been thinking about, dreaming about, writing about and singing about it for a long time. It’s been something of a joke with my family and friends for a number of years. But after about 58 years of toiling away, I’m happy to say that I’ve finally crossed over into the golden years and the land of retirement.

    My work life started early - around the age of 10, I found out I could get paid for pushing a lawn mower around people’s yards and started my first business. This quickly expanded into other services including leaf raking, snow shoveling and cleaning out garages. Profits were used to purchase everything from bicycles and baseball gloves to electronics, beater automobiles and music. Around 15, I started working at various gas stations where I could better fund my social life. I learned to drive trucks, worked in machine shops and as a carpenter for a while. After college, I joined the Air Force.

    The Air Force was great fun as I loved fighter jets and the smell of jet fuel, but eventually I separated from active duty and went to work in the defense industry. I’ve spent the last 40+ years in engineering and manufacturing, doing things like project and program management, reading and writing contracts, and ensuring compliance with all of the federal acquisition regulations and laws. It’s been a good ride, but my ability to juggle 20 things at the same time isn’t what it used to be. My vision sucks and computer screens are taking their toll. Late last fall, after much procrastination, I put the retirement plan in motion. 

    Last week, I officially joined the ranks of the retired. At the moment, it feels like I’ve just got a 500-pound gorilla off my back. Corporate life takes its toll and I’ve been a corporate guy most of my working life. Years ago, I found that I needed more balance in life and started working on what I’ve called my next career, which is writing (blogs, books & songs) and performing my music wherever they have me. It doesn’t pay a lot, but it's far more rewarding and fun. Success won’t be measured in dollars; it will be measured in smiles. 

    Hopefully, there will be many years of smiles to be had with my wife Denise, who’s put up with too many years of me being gone too often (even when I was physically present). Maybe I’ll get to see a bit more of my kids and grandkids too, who are visible reminders of the adage that time waits for no one. My friends who are retired will start to see a lot more of me, which I really look forward to. I’ve got a 50th high school reunion coming up and even wrote a new song for it a couple of weeks ago, after fellow classmate and songwriter Terry Schnell put up the challenge. My song probably won’t be as good as his, but I won’t be empty-handed.

    I also hope to have more time to give back to the community through volunteer efforts. The good folks at Feeding Southwest Virginia have my number and have extended their warm invitation to join them. I think I’m going to do that. Giving back and doing for others - that’s a good goal for retirement.

“I thought by now, I’d be set free from poverty and want

Have a big house and a new car, eat in fancy restaurants

Fly a private jet to the Hamptons, live a life of luxury

I keep on dreamin’ every day of escapin’ reality”

“Midlife Crisis” by Bob Schmucker (2014)

    I welcome your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. Please share this post with others who value both humor and serious stuff about this blue marble that we all share.

    If you'd like to leave a comment, but you get an error message, it's probably because you have your browser set to reject 3rd party cookies. The solution is to select "anonymous" where the window says, "comment as". Just leave your name or initials if you want to let me know who you are. Thanks for reading this!

A Year Later: My Ukrainian Daughter Book Update

Jenya, Egor and Maksym (2025)

One year ago, I used this blog space to make my big announcement - my manuscript entitled “My Ukrainian Daughter” was 98% complete and I was ready to take the next step.  That next step would be seeking representation by an esteemed and successful literary agent who could use all of their skills and talents to engage publishers.  The publishers in turn would compete to outbid each other for publication rights, each offering large sums of money.  That money would be used to fund the defense and rebuilding of Ukraine.  In my mind, all of this would happen in time to ensure the book was in bookstores and on digital platforms for the holidays.  Aim for the stars is my motto.  

Since then, I occasionally get asked “how’s the book project going?”  Obviously, the initial goals proved to be a little optimistic, but I’m happy to say that the project is still alive and a great deal of progress has been made.  Last summer, I made a major effort to attract a literary agent and, along the way, received some useful feedback.  For starters, I learned that the traditional publishing process is a marathon, not a sprint. For most books, a realistic timeline from manuscript to publication is one to two years after a publisher agrees to publish the book. Given the nature and context of the wartime events at the heart of the story, some details would certainly be outdated by the time of publication.  

I also learned that 40,000 words isn’t enough for most agents to get excited about.  I need to write another 30,000 or 40,000 words to get where it needs to be.  Fortunately, there is a lot more of the story to tell.  Despite the war, life goes on for Jenya, Egor and Maksym.   

Egor's Journey Continues

Egor will soon be 11 years old and is very much a high achiever.  He is killing it in school and recently joined the robotics team.  They design and build robots and compete with other schools.  These aren’t toys - they are like miniature Lunar Landers or Mars Rovers.  Despite being several years younger than other kids on the team, he was chosen to be on the competition team because of his knowledge and leadership.  A missile or drone blew up the building that housed his robotics classes, but they just found another place and kept going.

Egor is also deeply involved in sports, and just yesterday, tested and achieved his purple belt in Taekwondo.  He takes English language classes and talking to him is just like talking to an American kid.  This summer, he’s taking guitar lessons and will no doubt be writing better songs than mine soon.  

Jenya's Resilience and Growth

When Jenya isn’t encouraging Egor to live his best life, she’s busy setting and achieving new goals for herself as a web designer and graphic artist.  She still works for 5Points Creative in Roanoke and from all accounts, wins the award for long distance telecommuting every day!  That’s in spite of frequent power outages from attacks on the Ukrainian power grid and frequent attacks on Zaporizhia City, where they live.  She is also teaching Maksym new computer skills, taking English lessons and above all, proudly supporting her country.

The Road Ahead

There is a lot to write about and the book project is very much alive.  I’ve had detailed discussions with a locally based publisher and, when the time is right, I’ll be proudly announcing that it is available for purchase!  Until then, please keep Jenya, Egor and Maksym in your prayers, along with the country and people of Ukraine.

I welcome your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. Please share this post with others who value both humor and serious stuff about this blue marble that we all share.

If you'd like to leave a comment, but you get an error message, it's probably because you have your browser set to reject 3rd party cookies. The solution is to select "anonymous" where the window says, "comment as". Just leave your name or initials if you want to let me know who you are. Thanks for reading this!