As the famous nineteenth century philosopher, Ralph Waldo Emerson, pointed out to America, "All mankind loves a lover." Exchanging a glance or portraying a deep emotion shortens the distance between you and the stranger. Now, the relations between you and the stranger is one of understanding, with the warmest interest in the development of friendship. To the human heart and mind, a smile says a thousand words. For me, one stranger I have found great love in, is my neighbor who lives somewhere down the country road from me. Through this old man's kind, relaxed smiles, and waves, I learned the importance of life: enjoy what god has blessed you with and make the most of it.

I only know my neighbor as the man who drives the black El Camino. I have waved to him everyday for the past five years. The strong connection I have developed for a man I do not know, I cannot describe; it is so strange to feel so keenly over a man whom I have but met. Maybe it was the years in junior high: the afternoons of getting off the school bus and seeing his friendly smile through the open window of his El Camino, as he drove by on his daily afternoon cruise. Never did he forget to take along his greatest companion: his dog who sat on his lap, panting out the window. Maybe it was the comforting feeling of routine I would grow to know over the next five years of my life: knowing everyday, he would be driving down the scenic route of Globe Drive, and that he would wave and smile. As the years went by, I soon graduated from junior high and entered the strange, melancholy world of high school. The routine, however, would not change as much as the experience I would grow acquainted with. The routine four o'clock time would change to around five. Rather than seeing him cruise past my driveway, I would see him parked by the Tule River in front of a lush green pasture with his friend. From this magical spot beneath the towering, eucalyptus trees and hanging wild grape vines, I would pass him while I was out for my daily run. Of course as I passed, he would never fail to wave, while parked on the side of the road, watching the coquettishturkeys gobble and flash their tail feathers. In these years, however, he would teach me much more than I could learn at the trifling school. I would have never imagined a man, whom I have but met, could teach me so much about the wonders of life.

The first day I saw him-this man in his black El Camino with his best companion-I thought nothing of him and his smile; I thought, he is just the casual passerby in our friendly neighborhood, who knows the curtsey rule of our scenic country road: wave and smile to all that pass. However, after a week of seeing him stop so I may cross the street, I began to wonder, who is this old guy with a cowboy hat and a long gray beard that always waves to me? The weeks turned into months, which turned into years, that I would see him and wave as he watched the mutable cloud of nature along the road. At that young and naïve stage of life, I could not understand why an elderly man would drive down Globe Drive everyday. As I turned a year older and school turned harder, I soon learned from this old man that time needs to be spent away from society and school and time needs to be spent with the self in nature. Soon, I started piecing the puzzle together: the puzzle that would reveal his purpose for traveling the same path day after day; the puzzle that would reveal the importance of enjoying life and nature-that material things were just material, not sentimental. After the first month of seeing him, I soon realized he just enjoyed driving down the country road to watch the squirrels and their frolicsome ways, the bunnies and their bunny kisses, the deer and their feasting on grass, and the mockingbirds fluttering amongst the branches of the oak trees.

As I thought about him every now and then throughout the weeks, I soon placed another part of the puzzle together. I was now in the eighth grade and school was harder and I was less naïve. Homework was in abundance and the grading system had changed: a ninety-five percent was the new A- and a B ranged from eighty-five to ninety-four percent. More time was needed for homework so I could achieve my desired A, meaning more time spent at the dinner table or bedroom desk completing the hours of homework. After a few weeks of the eighth grade, the homework started drawing in on me and I started to feel enclosed in the house. Relief was what I needed. My thoughts began to drift, leaving the world of homework and school behind. Soon my algebra homework was replaced with the wonder of my neighbor down the street. I realized the cure for my claustrophobia from homework was to step outside into the blue yonder of the real world. I went outside on my patio that overlooked the majestic Black Mountain, and sat by the flowerbed that was always in abundance with yellow daisies. After a couple of days of taking breaks from my homework to sit outside by my newly beloved yellow daisies, I realized why my stranger took a daily cruise. It was a need that caused him to drive the course of the scenic Globe Drive. It was a need for relief from the daily routine of life. Outside in nature was another world, a world that cared not about the car you drove, the education you had, or the amount of money in the bank. In the natural world, all that was needed was a love and respect toward the greater power that created the towering trees, perfect flowers, and the caring animals.

Soon, I left junior high and I was off to high school. High school was a whole new world from my little country school. At my new school, I knew maybe ten people and those ten were on my cross-country team. For cross-country I began to run everyday and my runs would become my cruise down the country road. As I would get close to the cool atmosphere by the Tule River, where the eucalyptus trees and grape vines provided shade, I would soon see my friendly stranger, who would wave to me as I ran by. Through his smiles and through my runs, I soon realized all that he had taught me. He drove his old black El Camino, sharing his seat with his dog so they may enjoy the same view out the window. His car was not fancy; he wore old cowboy hats and old clothes; yet he still went about this world with a smile on his face. To me, he was a man who had realized the importance of life: to be nice to others and to be happy with what you have. As a freshman, I knew the path in life I wanted to take: attend Cal Poly San Luis Obispo to become an architect and work in my small country town. Because of that man in the black El Camino, I now wanted to make sure I take pleasure in the simple aspects of life: smile at others who pass by and enjoy the turkeys and their coquettish ways. I wanted to pay it forward.

It is amazing how a smile can impact a person's daily life. For me, one man's smile showed me many treasures of the world. My overly romantic heart formed a tight friendship with this man-a man who probably only knows me as the girl he always sees running down the street; a man who does not know how much he impacted another's life with only his simple and kind hearted smile.