Remembering: James “Jim” Michael Kuhter
On Saturday, August 15, 2026, I lost one of the most important people in my life. He was not just a longtime friend, he became a brother.
James Michael Kuhter, known to almost everyone as Jim, and affectionately known by me as “Jimmy,” was born on January 1, 1962. I had the privilege of knowing him for nearly four decades, beginning back in 1987 when he was still a student at SDSU. Looking back now, it is difficult to imagine life in general without him being part of it.
Jim and I met while he was working for my grandfather (my father’s father). Jim was a handyman who seemed capable of and willing to fixing anything. He helped build airplane landing gear for small Volksplanes for my grandfather’s company, Metal Masters, and maintained the apartments on their propery. During high school, I started working there at 15 years old to learn metalworking, welding, minor repairs, and electrical skills. That is where our friendship began and neither of us could have imagined that a workplace friendship would turn into a lifelong bond.
The call at 1:49 AM Central (11:49 PM Pacific) that changed everything… It came while I was in Chicago riding roller coasters with a college friend I also consider a brother, Matt. Helen called and told me she had arrived at my place after her evening at work to take care of my dog Harley and found Jim lying on the floor of my hallway, non-responsive.
Just the day before, on Friday, Jim had driven me to the airport and told me he was jealous that I would be riding roller coasters all weekend. It was just another normal chit chat between friends and since he was not going to Sic Flags Great America with me, he mentioned that he would replace my dishwasher because the pump had failed. I thanked him and told him I appreciated it and gave me $100 for being my Uber driver and swapping out my broken dishwasher.
As always, he was already thinking about how to solve someone else’s problem. His plan was to swap out my dishwasher, take the old one with him, repair the pump, and use it at his place. That was Jim in a nutshell… Even when he was helping you, he was finding a way to make use of something that others might throw away. He was always building, repairing, improving, and figuring things out for everyone in my family.
One of my most memorable examples of that, came after I had surgery on my right shoulder. I wanted to lower my truck by two inches so my mother could more easily get in and out of it. I physically could not do much because of the surgery and Jim didn’t hesitate. He jumped into the project headfirst and was willing to do whatever needed to be done to make it happen. He always showed up when people needed help. That is one of the things I will miss most.
It is difficult to pick a favorite memory of him because there are simply too many to list. Traveling with Jim was always an adventure. In fact, sometimes the adventure began before we even arrived at our destination because there was a good chance he had forgotten to pack something important.
- Sometimes it was toiletries
- Sometimes a jacket
- Sometimes underwear and socks
- Sometimes pants
- Sometimes swimming trunks
- Sometimes everything, except money
Occasionally he literally forgot nearly everything excel his phone, wallet, and glasses. It usually resulted in an unexpected shopping trip and a lot of laughter. No matter where we traveled, Jim had a remarkable gift to start a conversation with absolutely anyone. It did not matter where or when, he was a genius chatter.
- Standing in line for a roller coaster.
- Sitting at a blackjack table in Las Vegas.
- Ordering food at a restaurant.
- Sitting on an airplane.
Within minutes, he would be talking to someone as though they had known each other for years. People seemed to trust him because they could immediately sense that he had no hidden agenda. He was genuinely interested in other people and sharing his stories. He was friendly because, that was simply who he was.
Jim had many passions
He loved his 1969 Pontiac Firebird, the first car he ever owned. Over the years, he transformed it into a vehicle that was restored beyond factory condition. He took incredible pride in making it better and better. In one of the greatest honors he could have given me, he left that car to me in his trust. Every time I see it moving forward, I will think of him.
He loved motorcycles, especially his BMW 1200 touring bike. Both of his BMW motorcycles had to be tuned and maintained to Factory specs. He never complained about long rides, whether it was helping my aunt in Sacramento, or heading off on another adventure in Orange County
He loved going to Las Vegas and casinos in general. They were his escape from the average everyday life. While many people saw casinos, Jim saw an opportunity to enjoy himself, relax, and make memories with friends.
And he absolutely loved Thailand… Yasothon and the Bun Bang Fai Rocket Festival drew him back whenever he could afford the trip. Thailand was one of the places where Jim felt completely free to embrace life, enjoy himself, and spend time doing exactly what made him happy.
He also made regular trips to Chicago, where family members eagerly awaited his arrival. His cousin Cindy was especially close to him, and their bond spanned countless visits, celebrations, and Vegas adventures.
What made Jim special was not any single hobby, skill, vehicle, or destination. It was his approach to life as Jim taught me that fun isn’t about where you are, what you are doing, or how much money you spend. Fun comes from the people you share that time with. He never seemed to say no to spending time with friends. If there was an opportunity to laugh, tell stories, travel somewhere, fix something, or simply enjoy a meal together, Jim was ready.
He was also one of the most honest and forthright people I have ever known. He was an open book and spoke about his dreams, passions, successes, disappointments, and struggles. He never pretended to be someone he wasn’t and even when life was difficult, he refused to drag others down. Instead, he shared his challenges honestly and continued moving forward but was good at asking for help.
His authenticity made people want to be around him. As I write this, I am realizing that the hardest part of losing someone like Jim is not remembering everything about them. The hardest part is accepting that there will be no new memories made or shared with him.
- No more random phone calls.
- No more ignored text messages.
- No more travel adventures.
- No more roller coaster trips.
- No more renovations.
- No more projects.
- No more conversations with strangers that somehow turned into friendships.
There will be no more telling my dog, “Go get Uncle Jimmy,” when she heard him pulling into the driveway.
For nearly 40 years, Jim was simply there as a friend. Through good times, hard times, celebrations, repairs, family emergencies, road trips, casinos, cars, motorcycles, and everyday life.
Some friendships become so deeply woven into your life that they become family.
Jim was family. Goodbye, Jimmy.
Thank you for nearly four decades of friendship, loyalty, laughter, adventures, and memories. Thank you for always showing up when people needed you. Thank you for reminding us that life is meant to be enjoyed with the people we care about.
I will miss you more than words can express, but I will carry a part of you with me everywhere I go.
And every time I hear a classic Pontiac rumble to life, every time I see a BMW touring bike headed down the highway, every time I find myself laughing with friends on an unexpected adventure, I will think of you.
Rest in peace brother. You were loved, and you will never be forgotten. ❤️