If you’ve been following my journey here in Rochester Hills, you know that I don’t just sit behind a desk. Most days, I’m wearing three or four different hats before lunch. One minute I’m a patented inventor tweaking the lumens on our latest high-intensity WHITE LEDs, the next I’m a musician prepping for a set, and the next I’m a business owner making sure your orders Ships in 24 Hours. It’s a grind, but it’s a grind I love. However, there’s one thing I’ve realized: innovatio

There’s a specific kind of silence that hits you during a Michigan whiteout. If you’ve ever been stuck on a backroad near Rochester Hills when the snow turns the world into a blank sheet of paper, you know that silence isn’t peaceful: it’s heavy. It’s the kind of moment that makes you realize how quickly a person can become invisible. I spent years as a touring musician, living for the roar of the crowd and the heat of the stage lights. But it was those quiet, dangerous momen

If you’ve ever found yourself in the middle of a Michigan whiteout, struggling to see the edge of the road while your mind is simultaneously racing through a new product design, you’ve met the "many hats" of entrepreneurship. I’m Derek Washington, the owner and inventor behind DC's LEDs. People often ask me, "Derek, how many hats do you actually wear?" On any given Tuesday in Rochester Hills, I might start my morning as a patent-holding inventor refining circuit boards, spend

I still remember the night that changed everything for me. I was driving through a brutal Michigan whiteout, the kind where the snow doesn't just fall: it attacks your windshield in horizontal sheets. As I navigated the familiar but now treacherous curves near Rochester Hills, I saw a flicker of movement. It wasn't a road sign or a taillight. It was a road worker, barely visible through the swirling frost, wearing a standard "high-visibility" vest that was doing almost nothin

I still remember the night that changed everything for me. I was driving home through a classic Michigan "whiteout" near Rochester Hills, the kind of storm where the snowflakes are the size of quarters and the road seems to disappear into a blurry gray void. As I crawled along at twenty miles per hour, I saw a figure on the shoulder, a utility worker trying to clear a downed branch. Even with his standard reflective gear, he was almost invisible until I was right on top of hi

Living and working in Oakland County means dealing with a unique set of visibility challenges. Whether you’re navigating a late-shift construction zone in Southfield, walking your dog through the quiet streets of Rochester Hills, or hitting the stage at a venue in Troy, "being seen" isn't just a suggestion: it's your identity as a pro. I’ve spent years as a musician and an inventor here in Michigan, and I’ve seen firsthand how a sudden whiteout or a poorly lit intersection ca