The South was in her blood now. That humid southern air swirled in her veins, and even as she studied civil engineering at Georgia Tech in Atlanta she had already forgotten the dim cold streets of a snowy Detroit, the long, dead blocks of vacant homes, the dirty slush in the February streets and the faded tatters of Motown Records. She had embraced the bright sun and the shirtsleeve style of her adopted sunbelt. Atlanta loved her. The daily ride in the Marta embraced her and the downtown Centennial Olympic Park celebrated her. She could read the future now, and the future held no sleeting mornings or ghosted population.
We will go to the stars, she was heard to say, by way of the magic of Light Rail.