In the early morning, commuters rush in, stopping just long enough to fill their tanks. In the afternoon, high school students stop on their way home to buy a soda and fuel up their hand-me-down station wagons. At night, weary construction workers wander in for a six-pack or a cigarette.

Mohamed Darwish, it seems, is always there.

The 28-year-old store manager arrives daily before 6 a.m., when the sky is still a deep, cold blue and the only glow in the early morning air comes from the bright white light glaring down on the gas pumps. Some days, he makes it home before nightfall. Others, he's there until dark. Or later.

A decade ago, back when farmers still worked the land at Exit 25, Darwish came to the United States to study at UNC Charlotte.

His father works in the accounting department for a large corporation in the Middle Eastern nation of Jordan.

Go get an education, Darwish's father told him, then come back. Put your education to use here, in your homeland.

But the business opportunities in Charlotte proved too alluring for the quiet young man with the easy smile. He left UNCC without a degree to work at a Texaco. His bosses thought he had potential; they promised him a chance at bigger things if he stayed in the business.

He's been home twice since 1987.

``I always planned to go back for good, but the pay here is good, the work is fulfilling. Maybe someday I'll go. But I feel a part of this place now.''

It's the American way. The country's frontiers -- whether an empty shoreline in New England, a vast Western plain or a patch of farmland on the edge of Mecklenburg County -- have always beckoned newcomers willing to work hard to make a new life.

Darwish arrived in the United States at 17. He's married to an American, helps raise her 5-year-old son and has lived in Charlotte longer than many of the people who come in to his station.

``People look at me, and they probably think I'm a stereotype.'' Darwish pauses from his work, restocking a display of Skoals with the speed and skill of a man who has done this daily for the past nine years. ``But this is a good job. You get to meet people. You get to be a real good judge of character.''

During his career with Texaco, Darwish also worked in west Charlotte. On West Boulevard, he kept a gun stashed under the counter and spent his evenings stealing glances at the front door.

When he first came to work at Sam Furr Road, construction crews were still pounding out NorthCross, the $250 million shopping center that surrounds the Texaco. The only other business at the interchange was a Ham and Egg shop. It's gone now, but Talbots sits catty-corner from him.

Today, despite the constant traffic, Darwish says Exit 25 gives him the serenity of small-town living. In the more than two years since his store opened, it's never been robbed.

Mornings, as the sun rises and the steady march of headlights begins on Sam Furr Road, are the busiest time at the center of this new community.

Construction workers park and come in. Leisurely, they pour coffee, eye the Moon Pies and chat with Darwish about the weather. Many who enter greet him by name.

Commuters prefer not to step inside the automatic doors. Most pay with their credit cards outside -- giving up a doughnut and a friendly smile in favor of a few minutes in the cold morning air.

It's urgency, Darwish says, not rudeness. The drive to work gets longer every morning. Better, they figure, to get it over with.

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