My sister Kristen

My sister Kristen is seriously tight. You see, when you're my sister, there's a lot of things you have to do. My friends (P and Ingrid) joke about how they have to "babysit" me--and truer words have never been spoken. Babysitting Becca involves the normal thing you would do with a ten year old, like keeping me on time, making sure I've eaten, keeping me entertained with tv shows or events or finding my car keys. Now that you have an idea, here is what I did: twice in the last week, I had some driving issues.

Last Sunday, Kristen and I were coming back from a trailride, and planning on getting a bite at the Hunter's Head, but parking there is tricky when you're driving a horse trailer (which I was). So Kristen, driving her own car, told me to park in the church parking lot. As we got closer, the church parking lot looked full, but I thought I could drive around it and turn around.

I was wrong.

The church parking lot was PACKED. People had blocked the thru way, and immediately after pulling in, I realized I was screwed. I got out of the truck and walked to Kristen in her car behind me, her mouth a little agape. She simply said "I can't believe you pulled in here."
The thing about trailers, is they take a ton of room and goosenecks are really difficult to back up. Kristen jumped in the truck and after multiple strategies, she was finally able to get the truck and trailer out of the packed parking lot, without having to wait until the people got out of church. She was only borderline about to kill me.

So last night, Kristen picked me up at National airport at 9:40 and dropped me off at Pepper's car, which I drive most of the time. I jump in the car and turn the key..... And it's dead. Totally dead. Because I left a light on (all weekend). So I yell to Kristen that it won't start. Kristen, being the "always get the job done" master that she is, just shrugs and backs her car in front of mine. Pepper, being the "always prepared" master he is, has a fully stocked emergency kit in his car--complete with jumper cables. About 3 minutes later, we're up and running. I follow Kristen back to our place in Georgetown, until at a stoplight, the car dies again. Again, we jump it (no kind gentlemen to help--tighten up men of DC). Kristen advises me to rev the engine a little at stop lights, and I manage to get the car home OK.

In conclusion: Kristen Glover, saving my ass since January 21st, 1982.