On the way back from a training hike weekend on Sheep Creek, I reached the car before Ambrose did. Not an unusual occurrence. As I approached it, a truck pulled in and two women, one man and what seemed like ten dogs (though there may have only been two), piled out and prepared for a day hike. To include fishing, judging by the poles sticking out of the man's pack.
The dogs kept running over to me, no doubt because I smelled... fascinating. Let's say fascinating, after that weekend's training. I ignored them, because if I petted them then I'd have to wash my hands due to allergies. And there weren't exactly convenient places to wash one's hands out there.
I was getting ready to head down to the river to give myself a bit of a cold rinse before putting on clean clothes when another car pulled up to the truck, heading towards Boise. I could hear the conversation that the male passenger exchanged with the male from the truck. The car had a flat tire and wanted to know if they had a pump. Unfortunately, they did not. As the car made to drive off, I pointed and yelled.
They continued to drive off, so I waved and shouted again. "Hey, pull in, I've got a pump!"
The car stopped and the male stuck his head out, giving me a look I can only classify as dubious.
"A car pump?" he asked.
Alas, sarcastic wit fled my tongue and I simply pulled the compressor out of the trunk and held it up as proof. The car pulled in, and I got the compressor out and set and we proceeded to start the filling of the low tire.
And it was really low. So low that the pressure gauge on the compressor hardly registered anything. They might have made it to Twin Springs (population 2), but then again, they might not have. While it was filling, the female driver thanked me multiple times and the male passenger groused a bit about how long it was taking.
So when Ambrose showed up, I headed down to the river without waiting for the tire to finish filling.
The encounter bugged me, though Ambrose didn't see anything odd about it. I can't help but wonder if the passenger would have asked Ambrose if he had a car pump, or would have just pulled in at his suggestion.
I mean, if I was offering a pump, then that clearly implies that I overheard the conversation and knew what the heck he was looking for. Doesn't it?
And yet, he almost went right on by me and my pump, because, for whatever reason, he judged that I had nothing to offer him until I shoved it in his face.