Keep in mind, I was raised in the shadow of the George Washington Bridge, literally walking distance to Manhattan. You know why I came to Atlanta? I wanted to try living in a small country town…
I came down with Frito Lay. The funny thing was I hated Frito lay (except I got to know Herman Lay personally, which was fantastic), but Frito Lay kinda loved me. When they promoted me to corporate in Dallas, I decided to stay in Atlanta.
Atlanta, back then, was an incredible breath of fresh air. It had everything you would like to have out of a big city like sports and the theater and shopping and supplies and such, but none of the crowds and crabbiness. No weather-destroyed pot hole fields called roads. And, as an already accomplished car and truck nut, you could buy all this fantastic vintage iron in good condition with zero rust. On top of that, the driver and motor vehicle laws and rules and costs were extremely user-friendly to people who play with the cars. In New Jersey, they wanted to control the steel content of every nut and bolt and up from that.
Keep in mind also that I worked internationally most of my career, and even though most of it was as an engineer & project manager, and only later did I become a broker, I worked with manufacturing development and commercial real estate a lot. From a travel standpoint, Atlanta is the center of the universe. Over the decades, Atlanta thought they were in a depression/slump when it was “only” growing moderately. Most of the time it was growing like crazy. That was a fantastic foundation for my career, raising kids and building wealth.
But I completely understand why you hate Atlanta. A lot of the congestion and rude people I left behind in New York have now developed down here. My personal problem, now that I’m turning 71, is like most folks, I’d like to move closer to my kids, but coincidentally they both live right up near the same place in New Jersey now. And it’s still far worse up there, and the weather is worse, and the taxes are out of sight, the government is overbearing, etc., etc. The annual taxes on my brother’s house now are $4000 a year than I paid for my whole first house in Atlanta. Think about that. My modest house in Atlanta would cost between $1-1/2 and $2 million up there. And you can’t really find my neighborhood up there, it doesn’t exist. And moving would be like replacing my ‘96 F250. It’s cherry and I’ve already turned down $20,000. It’s literally garage kept since new, not a thing wrong with it, and it does everything I want it to do, and people say ooooh and aaaah when they see it. But if I sell it for $20k, a plastic replacement is over $100,000 grand, it won’t be as solid, won’t do as much, all funky computers, no bulletproof 7.3, but the insurance will be three or four times as much! Hell of a deal, huh?
So I’ll be plugging along with all the entitled woke people who run daycares and hospices down here for the foreseeable future. And, BTW, if any of you guys were traveling through, you’re welcome to stop by and stop for the night. That attitude is the Atlanta. I moved to in 1979. We’re not all bad down here.
But let me close by saying that, after 47 years here, I’m still considered a “damn Yankee.” Who knows the difference between a “Yankee,” and a “damn Yankee?”