The good news? My daughter got the cast off of her broken ankle after less than five weeks.
The bad news? The bone is fine, but it will be another month or more before the torn ligament heals.
The good news? Freed of the cast and crutches, she can drive.
The bad news? She can’t drive her own small car, Rosie, which has a manual transmission, because using the clutch hurts her injured ankle.
The good news? She can drive my car, which is an automatic.
The bad news? I get to drive Rosie.
It’s not that I don’t appreciate Rosie. I do. She’s been a reliable, economical means of transportation for my daughter for several years. She's still reliable, but it's true that she's ten years old and showing her age. There’s her peeling paint, thanks to lack of acquaintance with a garage. There’s the crumpled hood, thanks to a too-close encounter of the unexpected kind with the back of a truck. (My daughter wasn’t driving at the time, by the way. Neither was I.)
Then there are the missing interior door handles. Getting out of Rosie requires rolling down the window, reaching out to open the door with the outside handle, and rolling up the window again. In the summertime, this could be done inconspicuously. This time of year, it's a little more obvious. I always hope no one I know is watching and resist the urge to get a bumper sticker that reads, "This Isn't My Car."
Worst of all, though, Rosie is a reminder that I’m out of the habit of driving a stick shift. Killing the engine in traffic, because you tried to start in third instead of first or you let the clutch out just a tiny bit too fast, is embarrassing for a mature, capable woman who considers herself a competent driver. On a hill (There are a lot of hills in Rapid City; I've never notice before just how many of them have red lights at the top.), it can be scary as well as embarrassing.
The good news? Two spring blizzards in the space of a week brought needed moisture.
The bad news? Two spring blizzards in the space of a week left us digging out from under a couple feet of heavy, wet snow.
The good news? With my all-wheel-drive baby SUV, my daughter had no trouble getting to work.
The bad news? Rosie, dry and warm inside my garage at the bottom of a long, steep driveway, wasn’t going anywhere until most of the snow was gone.
The good news? The snow melted fast. By Thursday, I figured Rosie and I could get out with no problem to run some necessary errands.
The bad news? On Wednesday—April Fools Day—at 4:49 p.m., my daughter remembered that Rosie’s license tags and expired the day before. She hied herself off to the courthouse to see whether she could get them before the treasurer’s office closed. She could have, too, if she hadn’t forgotten her driver’s license in the car.
The good news? A small announcement in Thursday morning’s paper. Due to the blizzards, which had closed many county offices on the last two days of March, the deadline for March license renewals was extended for a few days. Rosie was still legal until Monday.
The bad news? Friday’s forecast: more snow.
Practical Prairie Woman 
I notice with interest that your daughter’s car is named Rosie. My first car was named by your father. He called it “Frank’s Folly”. We had the Folly for 5 years and I traded it off because it was so dangerous, as the brakes were practically non-existant. Our son rode on his mother’s lap. Also, the bolts holding the front seats down were gone and with the grabby clutch, mother and baby were catapulted into the back region. No seat belts in those days. Your father called his first car, Ichabod. Something about the spirit was willing but the body was weak. I think it had been in a fire and it has been painted with a broom. He can better explain this.
Hi Merry Christmas and Happy New Year