When I came to Atlanta, I was a terrible driver. Timid, anxious, and scared of highways, I was the type of driver who hated getting behind the wheel for any reason. But just a couple of months on Atlanta's crazy, hectic, anything-goes streets and interstates, and I became the mean driving machine I am today.
There's a beauty in our driving style, a sped-up dance that has its own rhythm and grace. I love that everyone drives 20 miles over the speed limit on the highway, and that you have to be doing at least 30 over (or have out-of-town plates) to get pulled over. I love that Atlanta made me the confident driver I am today, one who takes pleasure in the weaving madness of the Downtown Connector and the aggressive camaraderie of our side streets. I love that one of our stupidest and best hip-hop anthems (MOVE, BITCH, GET OUT THE WAY!) is about, of all things, traffic. I don't love the traffic. But I love what it's made me.