Retired farmer James Withers listened with a bemused grin to the developers who lined up to sit on his porch, to share a pitcher of sweet tea and even sweeter visions of the future.

Withers had no intention of selling his 254 acres at the crossing of Sam Furr Road and I-77. To be honest, he told relatives, many of the men who came to talk big money to him sounded a little crazy with their grand schemes for subdivisions and shopping centers on top of his old farm.

But those developers had a plan. On Withers' stretch of wheat fields and woods, they would introduce Charlotteans to a new type of community -- one built around a highway interchange instead of a town hall, a Main Street or a village square.

One defined not by city or government, but a number.

Exit 25.

Today, 10 years after Withers died and big-city developers scooped up his land, more than 3,000 people live within a mile of Exit 25, now a sprawling suburban boomtown. A Target store sits on the spot where Withers' children used to pick blackberries. Construction of Talbots took down the tree under which Withers' son proposed to his wife.

Most of the newcomers have arrived just in the past few years, since the highway interchange connecting Sam Furr Road and I-77 opened in 1992. Developers, eager to push ahead, helped pay for the state to build the exit.

Now a new building seems to appear daily, a store or house or office built to serve the booming community of predominately white, affluent suburbanites who seek a quieter, easier way of life. Soon more than 5,000 people will live within a mile radius.

Residents come seeking some elusive ideal: They're trying to escape the problems of the 1990s, searching for a spot outside the city where taxes are lower, crime is nonexistent and the average school bus ride takes less than 20 minutes. They want a good life for their kids, religion, an easy commute.

For builders, the draw is more tangible: Unapologetic consumerism.

The median household income at Exit 25 was about $42,000 when it opened in 1992. By 2000, it will be $76,357.

The story of Exit 25, however, isn't just about money. It's also about a revolution in the way we live.

``What's happening is that the baby boomers and yuppies are both coming home to roost, looking for places to raise their kids and make their money and grow old in peace,'' said Dennis Paley, a U.S. Commerce Department demographer.

``They don't want to worry about life in the city. They don't want to bother with the natural hassles of the traditional suburb. So instead they're choosing to create their own communities, carving out these new pseudo small towns on the edge of nowhere.''

Exit 25 isn't unique -- it's one in a series of villages being built in the Charlotte region. From Hickory to York, these new small towns are shifting the political agenda toward transportation and schools, filling new churches, luring businesses out of the center city.

Over the next week, we'll introduce you to a few of these people who are seeking small-town lives on the edge of suburbia.

A decade ago, Mohamed Darwish sat in a library in Amman, Jordan, struggling to fill out the college application that would get him to the United States. Gary Trippodo considered himself lucky if his commute took less than two hours. Linda Gebelein lived within walking distance of church, school and the grocery store. Eric Barksdale still dreamed of an NBA career. Lauren Waggoner was barely out of diapers.

And James Cook was Mecklenburg County's Farmer of the Year.

Today, these seven people cross paths daily. They don't know each other, but the way they interact, the decisions they help make, their success or failure at establishing a common purpose, will shape this region in years to come.

The story begins in Monday's Observer, as Darwish arrives at the Texaco station he manages. In the early morning gloom, the shop is a neon oasis for the commuters and construction workers who populate Exit 25.

It's the general store of the suburban frontier.
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