The morning rush hour at McIntosh High School in Peachtree City looks like the start of a charity golf event. Instead of the usual hand-me-down SUVs — a sea of golf carts fill up the parking lots. It's a scene that perfectly captures the town's claim to fame: that this is a place where golf carts outnumber cars.
Now, let's pump the brakes on that a little. Officially, the claim is more of a feeling than a hard fact. The city counts about 11,000 registered golf carts, which is a respectable fleet, but with nearly 39,000 residents and census data showing an average of two cars per household, the number of actual cars is likely significantly closer — if not higher. But to get hung up on the numbers is to miss the point entirely. For almost any trip within the city limits — groceries, school, soccer practice, Tinder dates — the golf cart is king. Albeit a golf cart may offer less privacy than desired on that last one.
This is all made possible by the town's sprawling, 100-plus miles of paved multi-use paths that stitch the community together. They even have a phone app for navigating the network. This is the backbone of a parallel transportation universe that offers a glimpse of what an autoluw city, a Dutch word roughly translated to "car-lite," could look like in the States.
Peachtree City's transformation into a golf cart capital wasn't the result of some grand, top-down vision. When the town was founded in 1959, there wasn't a single mention of a city-wide path network in the plans. So, what changed? Oddly, it was a well-managed accident born from municipal pragmatism — a rarity these days. The very first paths weren't built for recreation; they were laid down as part of a deal with a utility company that needed to run sewer pipes through the town.
Naturally, the residents who owned golf carts quickly figured out these smooth, paved trails were a much safer and more pleasant way to get around. They soon started carving out their own informal "gorilla-style social-trails." Peachtree City's leaders saw what was happening and started formally paving and expanding the paths, responding to the community demand. The final, crucial step came in 1974, when the city successfully lobbied the state of Georgia. Then-Governor Jimmy Carter signed a law that specifically exempted Peachtree City's carts from normal motor vehicle requirements, legally turning them from a novelty into a legitimate form of public transport and cementing the town's weird and wonderful identity.
Of course, this isn't some lawless, golf-cart-themed "Mad Max," although that does sound fun. All carts have to be registered with the city, and there are strict age limits for drivers: 16-year-olds can drive solo, 15-year-olds need a learner's permit, and anyone between 12 and 14 needs an adult in the front seat. And before you think about turning the paths into a personal race track, be warned: the Peachtree City Police Department patrols the network in its own fleet of golf carts. As a reminder, golf cart crashes can be pretty nasty, too.
Understanding that Peachtree is not the first or even most thorough version of an autoluw city shows that the appetite for a less car-dominated community is here in the States. It's a low-tech, human-scale network that works for them, even being so close to the congested highways of Atlanta. It's not perfect, but it's theirs — and the locals have clearly figured out how to make it move.