Most patios we replace sit behind houses older than the people living in them. Suburban development here began in the 1950s, and highway construction touched off an early-1960s housing boom that filled lot after lot, with infill continuing through the 1980s. A patio poured in that stretch has done its work. Concrete lasts a long time. It does not last forever, and a slab that has carried decades of weather is usually past patching.
Replacement runs differently than new construction. There is a patio already in place, a house sitting right against it, and a yard that has to survive the demolition. On rolling, wooded lots, access is often the hardest part of the day, and we may be wheeling concrete around a corner instead of backing a truck to the pour. Tight sites are normal from Sandy Springs into Dunwoody. That shapes the schedule more than the square footage does.
Old flatwork fails in ways we can usually read on arrival. Slabs from that era were often poured thin, with no rebar or wire mesh, straight onto whatever soil was there. Tree roots lift a corner. A section settles and starts holding water against the foundation. Control joints were skipped, so the crack went where it wanted to go. We look hard at the failure before we plan the replacement, because the same ground sits under the new slab.
Getting a patio right takes time in the parts nobody sees: grading and compacting the base, setting forms true, running rebar or wire mesh, thickening the edges, cutting joints on a plan rather than by eye, and pitching the surface so water leaves the house. Stamped and colored concrete, exposed aggregate, a plain broom finish, those are choices you get to make. What goes under them is not negotiable. Call for a free estimate.