The Magic Man

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There are certain places that surprise you with their magic—the kind of places that creep up on you quietly, without fanfare, and wrap themselves around your life until you can’t imagine how things were before. Disney World dazzles with its castles and fireworks, but some magic is subtler. Sometimes, it looks like an RV park on the outskirts of a small Alabama town.

It was Grace who brought us to Auburn. When she decided to attend Auburn University, Amber and I were proud but also a bit nostalgic—our little girl was spreading her wings. Around that time, we had an RV on order, though it felt more like a distant dream. Amber, always resourceful, stumbled across University Station RV Resort, just a few miles from Auburn. We rented an RV for our first two trips because, thanks to supply chain delays during the COVID years, the one we’d ordered was nowhere near ready. Eventually, we canceled the order altogether and bought a pre-owned fifth wheel.

At first, University Station was simply a convenient place to stay while visiting Grace. But it didn’t take long to realize it was much more than that. It was a community—a sprawling, bustling, laughter-filled village that came alive every fall with the unmistakable rhythm of Auburn football season.

By the time Knox joined Grace at Auburn, University Station had become part of our family’s rhythm too. Every fall for four years, we returned, reserving our lot for football season and attending four or five games a year. We were there for both Iron Bowls held at Auburn—heart-stopping games that left us hoarse from cheering and drained from the emotional rollercoaster, though Auburn fell short each time.

But it wasn’t just the football that kept us coming back. It was the people. The families we met became friends, and those friends became an extension of our family. Some of them became travel companions on adventures far beyond Auburn. In the last two years, we shared a buddy site with one of those families, our RVs facing each other with a green space in between. We set up a tent at the front of the site, complete with a big screen TV for tailgating. The kids played football, tossed frisbees, and rode bikes until the sun dipped below the horizon.

And then there were the traditions. Every game day Friday, live music filled the air at Alumni Park. Fireworks lit up the night sky more often than not, and when the weather turned cold for the big games, bonfires crackled, keeping us warm. We cheered as Aubie made appearances, and we marveled at the grace of the War Eagles when they visited.

None of this would have existed without Mathan Holt—the Magic Man. Over 20 years ago, Mathan let a couple of folks park their RVs on his land. The next year, a few more joined. They asked if he could add utilities, and slowly, University Station began to grow. Today, it boasts over 850 lots filled with Auburn alumni, families, friends, and visiting fans, with kids running through the streets, creating memories they’ll carry for a lifetime.

Mathan isn’t just the owner; he’s the heartbeat of the place. You’ll almost always see him around the park, working tirelessly to improve it, greeting people with a smile, and somehow making everyone feel like they belong. He didn’t just create a campground—he created a haven for connection, laughter, and magic.

This December, Grace graduated. Knox will follow in May. This fall was our last football season at University Station with our kids. I already miss it. I miss the morning runs with the dogs, the smell of barbecue in the air, the incredible food trucks, amazing milkshakes, and the endless conversations that spilled into the night. I miss the sound of kids laughing and exploring together, and I miss those moments when we’d all sit back, full and happy, watching the fireworks light up the Alabama sky.

Most of all, I’ll miss the magic that Mathan created—not just for my family, but for everyone lucky enough to park their RV on that land.

Some magic is loud and glittering. Other magic sneaks up on you in the form of live music, bonfires, and a sense of belonging you didn’t know you were searching for. If you ever find yourself at University Station, keep an eye out for Mathan Holt. Shake his hand. Thank him for the magic.

Because in a world that can feel increasingly disconnected, we need more people like the Magic Man.

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