I drove slowly down a boulevard of the neighborhood on a cold Saturday afternoon. The forecast called for light snow. I passed a closed urgent care center with a grim concrete façade. It certainly wasn't inviting. Bob Seger played on my CD player. No one writes songs like he once did. At least that I hear, but then again, I never hear any new music unless I find old music in thrift stores that I've never heard. There's still a lot of it out there.