Adventures with Rose

I miss my sister Rose.  She is currently studying at BYU, and has been back at school for less than a month since Christmas, and I’m already counting the days until summer break. I don’t know how I shall survive the year and half she will be gone on her mission.

 One of the best parts of living near my parents here in St. Louis is being able to hang out with Rose on her summer and Christmas breaks from school.  Rose is a wonderful, truly unique person. My favorite way to describe her is “like unto Nathaniel; in whom there was no guile.’  If ever a person managed to make it to almost-21 on this earth without an ounce of artifice, it is Rose.  She is genuine, and funny, foolishly generous and endlessly forgiving.  She loves boisterously and without condition.  I cannot imagine my life without her.

 

One of my favorite Rose stories is about the very first time she was ever pulled over by an officer of the law (for speeding-it might have been 5 over).  The officer said, I imagine in the same bored, weary and somehow ominous tone all policemen seem to share, “I need to see your license and insurance.”  At which point sweet Rose says “Oh of course,” digs in her purse and hands the cop her driver’s license and her Blue Cross Blue Shield insurance card. Needless to say, she got a warning. And her family laughed themselves sick when she arrived home with the tale.

 

Another favorite adventure that I shared with Rose was occurred when I was living at home while Richard and I were dating. Our Mom was flying out to visit her own mother in Utah. Through a series of mishaps, mix-ups, and time shortages, it turned out that she left behind her nice new traveling outfit and was left to board the plane in her housecleaning clothes. (Ahhhhh the agony.)  When Rose and I found this out via cell phone, we decided she needed rescuing.  Grabbing Mom’s new outfit, we flung it into the car and with me behind the wheel proceeded to speed down the interstate to the airport at 85-90 mph. The speed limit is 60. We made the 30 minute trip in 15 minutes.  Rose sprinted into the airport to catch Mom just before she made it to the front of the security line.  Foolish? Yes. Unnecessary? Yes.  Dangerous? Yes. Fun? Oh yes. Yet another reason I love Rose. She’s always up for a crime spree. 

The final story that comes to mind in my missing-rose-moment today is from this Christmas break.  We were driving to the dollar movies in St. Charles, when Betsy, as she came flying off the interstate, pulled up to the light at the end of the ramp and promptly shut off. Completely. I don’t mean shuddered to a stop, made a grinding noise, ran out of gas, or anything like unto it (all of which have happened to me in cars before). Nope. I mean, SHUT OFF. No lights. No motor. No radio. Not even an attempt at turning over.

Rose and I looked at each other in dismay and concluded we weren’t going to catch Footloose that night. Putting Rose behind the driver’s wheel I put Betsy in neutral and pushed her slowly to the shoulder and out of the flow of traffic. Concerned citizens paused as they went through the light to inquire if we needed help and/or had a cell phone.  We replied that we were fine.  I called Richard, but he had never heard of a car doing that before.  He suggested I check the battery connections.  Sure enough, as I cautiously wiggled one of the various cables it sparked (causing Rose and I to shriek and jump back a step) and Betsy’s lights and radio came back on. But when I turned the key to try and start her, they promptly shut off again. I wiggle the cables again, and the lights came on again.  So, figured Betsy just needed some extra juice. I told Rose we were going to have to try and pop the clutch to start her. Or give a really good try at it before calling for a tow. So there we were, two girls staring at a (thankfully downhill) stretch of (fortuitously empty) road. 

Neither of us had ever started a car by popping the clutch before, but I had seen it done several times (with Betsy, of course).  So leaving my window rolled down I got in the driver’s seat and yelled at Rose to PUSH!! She heaved to with gusto, and soon Betsy was off and rolling, faster than Rose’s little high-heeled self could trot.  I continue to roll off down the (again fortuitously) long downhill stretch of road, figuring out through trial and error how exactly one 'pops' the clutch (have the key already turned in the ignition, the car in 1st and a ready foot on the gas pedal, as you simultaneously take your foot off the clutch.)  

Eventually Betsy roared to life and I circled around through a parking lot and headed back up the dark road to search for Rose. I came across her still sprinting away downhill, valiantly pushing her heels to their limit.  I waved her across the street and said to her as she sank into the passenger seat gasping for breath, “Rose, why did you keep running? Once the car was off and away, it was either going to work or not. You could have just waited at the top.” Her reply: “I wasn’t sure if you were going to need me or not!”  And that’s my Rose.