I made my first Thai friend as soon as I stepped out of Suvarnabhumi Airport seven years ago to begin a new job in the Land of Smiles.
I took a taxi, and my driver was a little old guy called Rungsan, whose contagious cheer made an immediate impression. We stayed in touch since that day.
Rungsan was funny, polite, a good driver and always fair. Contrast that with what most new arrivals experience in Bangkok cabbies - the unscrupulous "meter not work" brigade out to capitalise on newcomers' naivete, caring neither for their customers' comfort nor for the reputation of their own country or trade.
What the average taxi driver doesn't seem to realise, but Rungsan fully grasped, is the value of repeat business. He took care of his customers and invested in friendships with them. And I repaid this investment by calling him whenever I needed a ride out of town, or had visitors. Rungsan even drove my father and his wife all the way to Krabi when protesters closed both Bangkok airports in 2008.
Those corrupt cabbies who switch off meters and bump up fares should realise that while they might make a few hundred extra baht in doing so, Rungsan made tens of thousands of baht from me and my referrals, simply by being a good guy.
A customer once left an expensive bottle of duty-free whisky in his cab, but Rungsan refused to drink it, even though he would almost certainly never see the passenger again, because it wasn't his. Even though he was a Buddhist, Rungsan would always call me on Christmas Day. He never forgot a name, and would continue to enquire after my friends even if he only met them once.
On top of his personal integrity and utterly amiable character, Rungsan also earned respect with a truly impressive work ethic.
He worked seven-day weeks and 10-hour days. Sometimes more.
One day, he picked me up at 9am for a trip to Saraburi, along with a photographer and an interpreter, for a magazine article we were working on. It had already been a long day when, on the way home, the great flood of 2011 started to bear down on Ayutthaya, forcing thousands of vehicles on to the roads.
Frustration mounted, tempers flared, flood water rose, the photographer and the interpreter squabbled, and next to us a lorry full of distressed pigs squealed endlessly. It was a miserable situation and we were stuck. For hours. And yet Rungsan's only concern was our comfort and getting us all home safely. It was 5am by the time we did so, and Rungsan was back working just four hours later.
He worked so hard not for personal gain, but because his sister was mentally ill and he was paying for her care. He had "retired" from his career as a lorry driver long ago, but only because he had reached the mandatory age. There was no question of him actually stopping working, so he swapped a company contract for a taxi cab.
But Rungsan's drive to care for his sister meant he neglected his own health. He didn't sleep enough, he only took time off when he was sick, and he existed on a diet of caffeine and cigarettes.
I recently called Rungsan to arrange a ride. Uncharacteristically, his phone was off. I tried a few more times over the following weeks, with no luck.
I hoped he had merely got a new number and lost mine. I found a photo of his taxi with the rental company's number on it. Enquiries led to the sad news: dear old Rungsan had passed away.
It was a surprise, because even though he was old and thin, his constantly sunny personality belied any health issues. Then again, even if he had known he was ill, he wasn't the sort to burden anyone else with it.
I posted the news on Facebook. Unsolicited tributes poured in from the relatives and friends who I'd introduced to him.
From my mother: "I have to admit I let a few tears fall when I got the news. I loved this little guy." From my father: "I can hardly believe it. Rungsan was a star and I will always remember him for his kindness, modesty and humanity." From friends: "I'll never forget him." … "He was a very good man." … "He was a really, really nice guy!" And so on.
I can't speak highly enough of this lovely little man who charmed everybody he met. If anyone ever deserved to rest in peace, it is Bangkok's hardest working cabbie. But there was so much coffee in his body that he might not rest for another lifetime! God bless you anyway, Rungsan. It was a pleasure to know you.
Oliver Fennell is Foreign News Editor, Bangkok Post.