First read The Downfall of Detroit.
Then backtrack and read the history.
One more here.
I was in Detroit a few years ago on business, and we overshot the Canadian border exit. It wasn't marked and the roads were crumbling and we didn't have a GPS.
So we reluctantly had to find somewhere to ask for directions to the border. Have you ever been on that stretch of highway? It's sort of like Beirut in America, or Mogadishu.
Anyway, us two white gals found a gas station. I was driving, so I drove the rental car RIGHT TO THE DOOR OF THE GAS STATION. I was scared to park there. I was scared to go in. I told my colleague to keep the doors locked and keep her head down.
When we got to the Canadian side of the border, and got to Windsor, I damned well felt like kissing the ground. Imagine me, the big Jew practically belting out a Hail Mary. You get the idea.
The Windsor airport does not have a restaurant or bar. My colleague and I were still shaking from the experience on the flight and both had to have a drink on the plane to settle down from the car experience.