There was a period years ago when I spent quite a bit of my time down at the hot spring campsite keeping a handle on things and visiting around. One evening I decided to head down and check on things before dark. I'd probably walked down or rode my mountain bike several times that day and decided to run my pickup truck down to the end of the airstrip and walk from there, that would save me an airstrip worth of walking anyways. I got down there and backed it into a spot in the trees, then took my flashlight and headed to the campsite.
It was a Friday night I recall and outfits were pulling in and setting up. I guess I must have visited around for a bit then decided to head home. I wandered out the back trail to my waiting pickup truck.
On occasion, for a lark, I would sometimes drive home up the strip with my headlights turned off. This was back in the days when headlights turned off, and I just had to aim for the bright light out on the Lodge deck. So I hop in, fire it up, roll the window down, and pull out onto the airstrip then begin to slow cruise in the direction of home.
My only possible concern would be deer feeding out there at night. So once during the ride I would reach over and flick the headlight switch on and off quickly so I don't bugger my night vision. Any deer out there would be looking at me by then and their eyes would reflect in the brief flash.
So I'm cruising along, not fast, but aiming for the front deck spotlight way down at the end. I get a little ways into the trip and figure I better give a scan for deer and gave the high-beams a quick on/off. During the half second of illumination, an unexpected scene unfolded before me, and after the lights went out it took me a moment to piece together what I had just seen. I could have swore I just saw a couple pairs of boots piled up on top of each other, and some rumpled up clothing, and a tuft of hair or two. What the hell? I fumbled around in the dark for the headlight switch, finally locating it and flicking it on. The scorching high-beams came on. Several truck lengths away, the pile of boots is still there and rather active, the pointing up boots have not quite realised whats happening, but the pointing down boots are flailing around while he looks over his shoulder with saucer like eyes at what he must think are the landing lights of a passenger airliner, all the time trying to roll over and get his jeans up. About then, the pointing up pair of boots has opened her eyes and realised they are about to die, then begins rolling around on the airstrip grass trying to get her garments back up, with the same wild eyed look as her friend. I didn't know whether to leave the lights on or off. I shut them off. As I rolled by the startled, embarrassed, scrambling couple, I felt kind of bad and thought I better say something...
"Get a room!", was the best I could come up with out the open window.
Well that was a first, and I couldn't help but laugh all the way home.
That poor couple, they probably needed therapy after that experience.