Aage Llievang tried explaining to his mother, but she shook her head. "Now, Aage. Really. Your own car? A car? What would the other co-op members think?" "Mom, this is a classic! 1952 MG-TD. It's even--" "British Racing green... yes, Aage. I know. Your father knows. Your grandmother knows. We all know about the car." "But Mom, look." He waved his Handy at her. The MG glowed on its small screen. "There's one up for auction on carsforsale.com and I'm too young to bid. You've got to help me." "Aage!" She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "Your age is not the problem. You can't even afford it." "I'd pay you back." How could he explain his fascination with the Vehicular Age to her? The seductive sheen, the rumble, the combustive power of automobiles called to him like a siren at sea. He coveted the sense of possibility inherent in the turn of a key. And the MG-TD held a place high in his list of hope. British Racing Green, wood dashboard and a four-stroke engine. He had only seen one MG-TD, when he'd gone on holiday with his folks to the U.K. They had been walking down the street in downtown London. Most of the traffic had been pedestrian or cyclist. The occasional fuel-cell car glided by like a ghostly leftover from the Vehicular Age. Double-decker biodiesel buses roared past regularly, trailing the odor of fish and chips after them. And then it came down the street toward them. A car that purred as its rounded lines soaked up the sun with a green so deep it was almost black. It pulled into the valet parking of a grand hotel and two people got out. Aage barely noticed them. He stared inside the car, where chrome and brass gleamed against a burled wood dashboard. The doors of the car shut with the heavy thunk of real metal. A valet pulled the car out of the parking circle and Aage never saw it again. When did Aage see his first MG-TD? A. On holiday with his folks in the U.K. B. not enough information C. Prior to ever going on holiday in the U.K. D. After coming back from holiday in the U.K.
A

(Question)
Staying in our apartment on the North Shore of Vancouver, we were tucked into a sleepy, suburban idyll where once off the busy highway, kids played ball games in the street and cats strolled around their own home territories without a care in the world. It is also home to the famous Capilano Suspension Bridge, but warned that the crowds in mid-August would be overwhelming, we were given the tipoff that the Lynn Canyon Suspension Bridge and the surrounding park is a lovely place to while away an afternoon. Smaller, free and with loads of walks and picnic areas, I sent my intrepid husband ahead to brave the canyon bridge whilst I sipped a much-needed coffee in the local cafe. It was beautiful. It's mostly because the thought of hopping onto a swaying bridge above the ravine gives me the heebie-jeebies, whereas he will stride across panels of transparent glass suspended metres above busy streets (like Tower Bridge) or gondola rides that skim well above the treetops (like Japan lake or the Bavarian Alpine range.) Watching the shower of golden pine needles drift down from the redwoods whilst I typed out a blog post, I enjoyed seeing squirrels scamper and birds twitter their way around the boughs and branches. That blur below? A local black squirrel who was foraging amongst the cooing tourists for snacks About 20 minutes later his grinning face floated back into view, and he brandished his phone with images of his quick wander through the trails. Lynn Canyon Park officially opened to the public in 1912; there are several trails throughout the park to choose from for a leisurely hike including the popular Baden Powell Trail and there are also many breathtaking waterfalls and popular swimming holes which are perfect during the summer months. Lynn Canyon Park covers 617 acres today and comprises of second growth forest with most of the trees aged approximately 80 to 100 years old. How does the narrator's husband probably view danger? A. It doesn't phase him B. He'd much rather do it with the narrator C. not enough information D. He tries to avoid it at all costs
(Answer)
A

Cerberus just stared at me. The dog didn't blink, he didn't pant, he didn't move. He just sat in the passenger seat as I drove, relaxed, mouth hanging slightly open, looking at me the way someone examines a menu but can't decide on the chicken or the veal. The desert sky was on fire when the city came into view. Cerberus turned away from me and stuck his head out from the side of the jeep, his giant tongue flapping in the eighty mile an hour wind while I dialed Luna's number. The dog pulled his head back in, then rested his chin on top of the overhead roll-bar, his fur blowing back along his head like the spines of a porcupine. "Hello?" "Hey, Luna." "Dingo! Are you there yet?" "No, not yet. I'm just outside the city." Vegas flashed and blinked under the starless sky. "You get in touch with Mr. Waciejowski?" "Sure did. He's at the Denny's near the Excalibur. He's trying to stay away from the blackjack tables." "Yeah, good for him. He has the box?" I could hear Luna stuffing something disgustingly healthy in her mouth. "Mmm hmm." "He hasn't opened it, has he?" She swallowed. "Nah. I told him it was filled with old photos." Cerberus shifted in the seat and scratched behind his neck with such force that the whole Jeep shook; a rather unsettling motion at 80 miles an hour. "Hey Luna, I've got a question for you." I looked over to see the dog's nostrils flared out in the wind while his lips blew back and revealed his frightening set of teeth. "This, uh, this animal spirit guide you had me try to find. Do they ever show up, you know, in person?" What is probably true about Mr. Waciejowski? A. he's overweight B. not enough information C. he has a gambling problem. D. he lives in Las Vegas
C