The Anderson Jockey Lot. Known the area over. The first time I went, it was about 7:00 a.m. and I drove my car over a sprawling complex of red clay, broken concrete and asphalt. As I motored slowly past cramped stalls, idle trucks with produce, cages of puppies, green potted plants, and preoccupied folks driving golf carts who (like me) needed a good wash — I couldn’t shake the thought that I had stepped back in time. There was no growth planning in evidence, homemade signs everywhere, and a lot of locks on doors. After I got familiar with the place, I recognized the main thorough fares — which are rows of long buildings like chicken houses — filled with traders displaying dusty, sometimes new, off-priced wares. Always an interesting experience. Get there early! Hwy 28.