The America Found Off the Highway

the heart of Ashburn, GA

When we rode horses in India or Morocco or Argentina, I really enjoyed that our stops were largely in the country villages that could accommodate horses.  I felt the off-the-map locations we stayed offered opportunity to appreciate the true culture of those foreign nations.  I suppose you could say the same about a horse trip in the U.S.  No doubt, there are the not so simple Ocalas and Palm Beaches with their equestrian parks and polo grounds.  But, unless you are one of those ‘lucky’ few who has their horse delivered and jets in just in time to oversee the grooming prior to competition, you will likely find yourself in an Ashburn, GA.  So, let me offer readers a short sketch.

Ashburn lies just west of I75, the 1,800-mile highway that runs from Sault Ste. Marie in Canada to Miami.  The first half mile of Georgia Rt 32 running west from I75 after you take exit 82 is the typical eyesore of conveniences you’ll find coming off any major US highway -- gas stations, fast food joints, motels, and a billboard-promoted tourist trap — in this case a ‘sausage shop and country store.’  And that’s pretty much all most people see.  But, if you have a reason to drive beyond that half mile – as we did to reach the E Bar W Ranch where the horses would stay the night — you get to see a part of America many may not understand exists.  Now, I bet you’re thinking I’m going to describe some idyllic small town of cute houses with flower-filled gardens and smiling locals barbecuing hot dogs.  But, that’s not the Ashburn I saw.

Besides the national chain restaurants and gas stations, the only commercial enterprises of any size in Ashburn seems to be the Golden Peanut processing plant and a Dollar General store.  I’m going to have an entire post about Dollar General Stores at some point; for now, I’ll just share our family’s saying — “When you see the Dollar General, you know you’re almost nowhere.”

The heart of Ashburn is defined by some railroad tracks and a traffic light that arbitrates traffic that doesn’t merit intervention.  There are a few shop buildings – many boarded up .  Saturday mornings, the parking lots of these largely vacant buildings are filled with folks selling stuff out of their cars at an impromptu swap meet.  Get past the one light and you’ll pass a few blocks of small houses – some neat as pins, some squalid.  Then there are just endless fields of cotton and peanuts.

Sounds sad, and it is a little. But there’s more to Ashburn.

There’s the couple who own the E Bar W Ranch – Eileen and John Campbell.  They’re place is one of the ones that is neat as a pin.  Retired, they operate a horse motel to ‘get their equine fix.’  Before their bodies broke – as John put it – Eileen rode mules and he piloted a pioneer wagon in recreational wagon trains they organized and drove around the South (apparently to the chagrin of uninformed local law enforcement).

There’s the family that runs El Taquito Olympico Mexican restaurant.  Big bro is the host and runs the till; lovely big sis takes orders and makes sure the cold beers keep coming; and little bro – maybe 10 – clears tables and checks in with the patrons every few minutes.  I’m pretty sure Mom, Dad, and maybe a few tias and tios are back in the kitchen.

There are the other families in El Taquito, all rushing to eat quickly so they can make it to the High School in time for the Friday night football game.

Oh, and there’s the Annual Fire Ant Festival that Ashburn apparently hosts every spring.

Maybe to the jet set it’s not much. But for many Americans, Ashburn and it’s like are home.