Question Description
Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Extreme DadAs I was growing up, each autumn brought with itthe excitement of a new school year and new friends.However, I did not look forward to the inevitable ques-tion young boys pose to one another: “What does your(5) dad do?” Some people cannot remember being askedthat question in school, but it bears special weight forme. My father is recently retired from his career asa Hollywood stunt performer. When I was a child, hewould do more death-defying tricks in a week than I’m(10) sure I will ever do in my lifetime. My father’s extremecareer and energetic lifestyle made him the coolest dadin town, and I had to live up to him.For American boys, no piece of plywood is safe;it has “ramp” written all over. We would prop some(15) plywood up on a cinderblock and see how high it couldlaunch us on a bike or skates. That was sufficiently funfor years, but eventually my father’s reputation caughtup with me. Soon, my friends wanted to go biggerwith the idea of a homemade launch pad. They urged(20) me to seek my father’s help. At first, I resisted, sinceI didn’t want to start a trend of hair-raising stunts onmy neighborhood street. Who knows what the old ladyacross the street would think?As it turned out, my father was more eager than(25) I was to introduce some stunts to my group of friends.Instead of building a giant ramp, he suggested, whynot build a platform high in the ponderosa pine treeout back from which we could rappel to the ground?It sounded crazy to me, but I yielded to my father.(30) He loved the cliche appeasement, “Trust me; I’m aprofessional.” So, that afternoon, my friends, father,and I piled in the truck and headed for the lumberyard.By this time, I was starting to warm to the idea of arappelling platform in my backyard. My friends could(35) hardly contain their excitement. After all, they wereabout to do something crazy under the supervision ofa real stuntman!My father cruised the aisles at the lumberyard withamazing deftness and efficiency. As he waited for some(40) plywood to be cut, he filled his cart with all kindsof materials that little boys love: nails, screws, glue,chain, cable, nuts, and bolts. This would be the firsttime my friends and I had built anything out of shiny,new parts. No doubt this would be the most awesome(45) stunt in town!When we returned home, we unloaded all of thesupplies near the base of the tree. Looking up thetrunk, my friends and I realized we had a lot of coolbuilding materials but no way to get them up the tree.(50) At that moment, my dad emerged from the garage.“Here’s the last piece.” He held a climbing harness andrope in his hands. “Now I’m going to go up thereand build the structure, then two of you can come upand help with the rigging.” For the next hour, we sat(55) in stunned silence. My father threw one end of hisrope around an upper limb, secured it, and started theslow process of drawing on the two mechanical ascen-ders. Before long, he had reached the notch in the tree,braced himself, and sent down a length of cord to us.(60) “Put a quarter-inch bit in the drill and send it up,”he cried. We prepared the drill and tied it to the line.My father hoisted it and bored the boltholes into thetree. We repeated this process with two-by-fours, bolts,nuts, and finally the plywood square that would become(65) the platform. My father built it with lightning speed.One of my friends gaped at how quickly my fathercould drive screws. Before long, Dad called down say-ing everything was finished and ready for “preliminarytesting.” I didn’t know what he meant by that. “Stand(70) back, guys,” my dad called. We hastily obliged.My father, already standing on the platform, lookedstrangely comfortable so high in the ponderosa tree.Granted, he was still in his harness roped to the tree, butnerves have a funny way of ignoring appeals to logic.(75) Satisfied with his handiwork, my dad began bounc-ing lightly on the balls of his feet. The platform didn’tbudge. Next, he started jumping up and down violently.This shook the platform and made the tree sway, buteverything seemed soundly built and tightly secured.(80) “All right, now we learn to rappel.”My father slid down his rope and called us to joinhim in the attic of the garage. I had only seen what wasup there a few times, and it mostly bored me. Behindan old armoire, though, was a dusty black trunk that(85) I had never seen before. My father began pulling ropesand harnesses from it, then carabiners and rappellingdevices. We eagerly grabbed the equipment and took itto the backyard. My father fit us for the harnesses andbegan an impromptu lesson on the critical safety rules(90) of climbing and rappelling.In a few hours and after a little practice off theroof of the house, we were all ready to tackle the hugetree in the back yard.Q.The passage states that the narrator had to cope with his father’s reputation as:a)famously daring and socially engaging.b)severe and unyielding to the narrator’s wishes.c)incorrigibly unmindful of the narrator and the narrator’s friends’ activities in the neighborhood.d)prone to reckless stunts and outlandish behavior.Correct answer is option 'A'. Can you explain this answer? for ACT 2025 is part of ACT preparation. The Question and answers have been prepared according to the ACT exam syllabus. Information about Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Extreme DadAs I was growing up, each autumn brought with itthe excitement of a new school year and new friends.However, I did not look forward to the inevitable ques-tion young boys pose to one another: “What does your(5) dad do?” Some people cannot remember being askedthat question in school, but it bears special weight forme. My father is recently retired from his career asa Hollywood stunt performer. When I was a child, hewould do more death-defying tricks in a week than I’m(10) sure I will ever do in my lifetime. My father’s extremecareer and energetic lifestyle made him the coolest dadin town, and I had to live up to him.For American boys, no piece of plywood is safe;it has “ramp” written all over. We would prop some(15) plywood up on a cinderblock and see how high it couldlaunch us on a bike or skates. That was sufficiently funfor years, but eventually my father’s reputation caughtup with me. Soon, my friends wanted to go biggerwith the idea of a homemade launch pad. They urged(20) me to seek my father’s help. At first, I resisted, sinceI didn’t want to start a trend of hair-raising stunts onmy neighborhood street. Who knows what the old ladyacross the street would think?As it turned out, my father was more eager than(25) I was to introduce some stunts to my group of friends.Instead of building a giant ramp, he suggested, whynot build a platform high in the ponderosa pine treeout back from which we could rappel to the ground?It sounded crazy to me, but I yielded to my father.(30) He loved the cliche appeasement, “Trust me; I’m aprofessional.” So, that afternoon, my friends, father,and I piled in the truck and headed for the lumberyard.By this time, I was starting to warm to the idea of arappelling platform in my backyard. My friends could(35) hardly contain their excitement. After all, they wereabout to do something crazy under the supervision ofa real stuntman!My father cruised the aisles at the lumberyard withamazing deftness and efficiency. As he waited for some(40) plywood to be cut, he filled his cart with all kindsof materials that little boys love: nails, screws, glue,chain, cable, nuts, and bolts. This would be the firsttime my friends and I had built anything out of shiny,new parts. No doubt this would be the most awesome(45) stunt in town!When we returned home, we unloaded all of thesupplies near the base of the tree. Looking up thetrunk, my friends and I realized we had a lot of coolbuilding materials but no way to get them up the tree.(50) At that moment, my dad emerged from the garage.“Here’s the last piece.” He held a climbing harness andrope in his hands. “Now I’m going to go up thereand build the structure, then two of you can come upand help with the rigging.” For the next hour, we sat(55) in stunned silence. My father threw one end of hisrope around an upper limb, secured it, and started theslow process of drawing on the two mechanical ascen-ders. Before long, he had reached the notch in the tree,braced himself, and sent down a length of cord to us.(60) “Put a quarter-inch bit in the drill and send it up,”he cried. We prepared the drill and tied it to the line.My father hoisted it and bored the boltholes into thetree. We repeated this process with two-by-fours, bolts,nuts, and finally the plywood square that would become(65) the platform. My father built it with lightning speed.One of my friends gaped at how quickly my fathercould drive screws. Before long, Dad called down say-ing everything was finished and ready for “preliminarytesting.” I didn’t know what he meant by that. “Stand(70) back, guys,” my dad called. We hastily obliged.My father, already standing on the platform, lookedstrangely comfortable so high in the ponderosa tree.Granted, he was still in his harness roped to the tree, butnerves have a funny way of ignoring appeals to logic.(75) Satisfied with his handiwork, my dad began bounc-ing lightly on the balls of his feet. The platform didn’tbudge. Next, he started jumping up and down violently.This shook the platform and made the tree sway, buteverything seemed soundly built and tightly secured.(80) “All right, now we learn to rappel.”My father slid down his rope and called us to joinhim in the attic of the garage. I had only seen what wasup there a few times, and it mostly bored me. Behindan old armoire, though, was a dusty black trunk that(85) I had never seen before. My father began pulling ropesand harnesses from it, then carabiners and rappellingdevices. We eagerly grabbed the equipment and took itto the backyard. My father fit us for the harnesses andbegan an impromptu lesson on the critical safety rules(90) of climbing and rappelling.In a few hours and after a little practice off theroof of the house, we were all ready to tackle the hugetree in the back yard.Q.The passage states that the narrator had to cope with his father’s reputation as:a)famously daring and socially engaging.b)severe and unyielding to the narrator’s wishes.c)incorrigibly unmindful of the narrator and the narrator’s friends’ activities in the neighborhood.d)prone to reckless stunts and outlandish behavior.Correct answer is option 'A'. Can you explain this answer? covers all topics & solutions for ACT 2025 Exam. Find important definitions, questions, meanings, examples, exercises and tests below for Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Extreme DadAs I was growing up, each autumn brought with itthe excitement of a new school year and new friends.However, I did not look forward to the inevitable ques-tion young boys pose to one another: “What does your(5) dad do?” Some people cannot remember being askedthat question in school, but it bears special weight forme. My father is recently retired from his career asa Hollywood stunt performer. When I was a child, hewould do more death-defying tricks in a week than I’m(10) sure I will ever do in my lifetime. My father’s extremecareer and energetic lifestyle made him the coolest dadin town, and I had to live up to him.For American boys, no piece of plywood is safe;it has “ramp” written all over. We would prop some(15) plywood up on a cinderblock and see how high it couldlaunch us on a bike or skates. That was sufficiently funfor years, but eventually my father’s reputation caughtup with me. Soon, my friends wanted to go biggerwith the idea of a homemade launch pad. They urged(20) me to seek my father’s help. At first, I resisted, sinceI didn’t want to start a trend of hair-raising stunts onmy neighborhood street. Who knows what the old ladyacross the street would think?As it turned out, my father was more eager than(25) I was to introduce some stunts to my group of friends.Instead of building a giant ramp, he suggested, whynot build a platform high in the ponderosa pine treeout back from which we could rappel to the ground?It sounded crazy to me, but I yielded to my father.(30) He loved the cliche appeasement, “Trust me; I’m aprofessional.” So, that afternoon, my friends, father,and I piled in the truck and headed for the lumberyard.By this time, I was starting to warm to the idea of arappelling platform in my backyard. My friends could(35) hardly contain their excitement. After all, they wereabout to do something crazy under the supervision ofa real stuntman!My father cruised the aisles at the lumberyard withamazing deftness and efficiency. As he waited for some(40) plywood to be cut, he filled his cart with all kindsof materials that little boys love: nails, screws, glue,chain, cable, nuts, and bolts. This would be the firsttime my friends and I had built anything out of shiny,new parts. No doubt this would be the most awesome(45) stunt in town!When we returned home, we unloaded all of thesupplies near the base of the tree. Looking up thetrunk, my friends and I realized we had a lot of coolbuilding materials but no way to get them up the tree.(50) At that moment, my dad emerged from the garage.“Here’s the last piece.” He held a climbing harness andrope in his hands. “Now I’m going to go up thereand build the structure, then two of you can come upand help with the rigging.” For the next hour, we sat(55) in stunned silence. My father threw one end of hisrope around an upper limb, secured it, and started theslow process of drawing on the two mechanical ascen-ders. Before long, he had reached the notch in the tree,braced himself, and sent down a length of cord to us.(60) “Put a quarter-inch bit in the drill and send it up,”he cried. We prepared the drill and tied it to the line.My father hoisted it and bored the boltholes into thetree. We repeated this process with two-by-fours, bolts,nuts, and finally the plywood square that would become(65) the platform. My father built it with lightning speed.One of my friends gaped at how quickly my fathercould drive screws. Before long, Dad called down say-ing everything was finished and ready for “preliminarytesting.” I didn’t know what he meant by that. “Stand(70) back, guys,” my dad called. We hastily obliged.My father, already standing on the platform, lookedstrangely comfortable so high in the ponderosa tree.Granted, he was still in his harness roped to the tree, butnerves have a funny way of ignoring appeals to logic.(75) Satisfied with his handiwork, my dad began bounc-ing lightly on the balls of his feet. The platform didn’tbudge. Next, he started jumping up and down violently.This shook the platform and made the tree sway, buteverything seemed soundly built and tightly secured.(80) “All right, now we learn to rappel.”My father slid down his rope and called us to joinhim in the attic of the garage. I had only seen what wasup there a few times, and it mostly bored me. Behindan old armoire, though, was a dusty black trunk that(85) I had never seen before. My father began pulling ropesand harnesses from it, then carabiners and rappellingdevices. We eagerly grabbed the equipment and took itto the backyard. My father fit us for the harnesses andbegan an impromptu lesson on the critical safety rules(90) of climbing and rappelling.In a few hours and after a little practice off theroof of the house, we were all ready to tackle the hugetree in the back yard.Q.The passage states that the narrator had to cope with his father’s reputation as:a)famously daring and socially engaging.b)severe and unyielding to the narrator’s wishes.c)incorrigibly unmindful of the narrator and the narrator’s friends’ activities in the neighborhood.d)prone to reckless stunts and outlandish behavior.Correct answer is option 'A'. Can you explain this answer?.

Solutions for Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Extreme DadAs I was growing up, each autumn brought with itthe excitement of a new school year and new friends.However, I did not look forward to the inevitable ques-tion young boys pose to one another: “What does your(5) dad do?” Some people cannot remember being askedthat question in school, but it bears special weight forme. My father is recently retired from his career asa Hollywood stunt performer. When I was a child, hewould do more death-defying tricks in a week than I’m(10) sure I will ever do in my lifetime. My father’s extremecareer and energetic lifestyle made him the coolest dadin town, and I had to live up to him.For American boys, no piece of plywood is safe;it has “ramp” written all over. We would prop some(15) plywood up on a cinderblock and see how high it couldlaunch us on a bike or skates. That was sufficiently funfor years, but eventually my father’s reputation caughtup with me. Soon, my friends wanted to go biggerwith the idea of a homemade launch pad. They urged(20) me to seek my father’s help. At first, I resisted, sinceI didn’t want to start a trend of hair-raising stunts onmy neighborhood street. Who knows what the old ladyacross the street would think?As it turned out, my father was more eager than(25) I was to introduce some stunts to my group of friends.Instead of building a giant ramp, he suggested, whynot build a platform high in the ponderosa pine treeout back from which we could rappel to the ground?It sounded crazy to me, but I yielded to my father.(30) He loved the cliche appeasement, “Trust me; I’m aprofessional.” So, that afternoon, my friends, father,and I piled in the truck and headed for the lumberyard.By this time, I was starting to warm to the idea of arappelling platform in my backyard. My friends could(35) hardly contain their excitement. After all, they wereabout to do something crazy under the supervision ofa real stuntman!My father cruised the aisles at the lumberyard withamazing deftness and efficiency. As he waited for some(40) plywood to be cut, he filled his cart with all kindsof materials that little boys love: nails, screws, glue,chain, cable, nuts, and bolts. This would be the firsttime my friends and I had built anything out of shiny,new parts. No doubt this would be the most awesome(45) stunt in town!When we returned home, we unloaded all of thesupplies near the base of the tree. Looking up thetrunk, my friends and I realized we had a lot of coolbuilding materials but no way to get them up the tree.(50) At that moment, my dad emerged from the garage.“Here’s the last piece.” He held a climbing harness andrope in his hands. “Now I’m going to go up thereand build the structure, then two of you can come upand help with the rigging.” For the next hour, we sat(55) in stunned silence. My father threw one end of hisrope around an upper limb, secured it, and started theslow process of drawing on the two mechanical ascen-ders. Before long, he had reached the notch in the tree,braced himself, and sent down a length of cord to us.(60) “Put a quarter-inch bit in the drill and send it up,”he cried. We prepared the drill and tied it to the line.My father hoisted it and bored the boltholes into thetree. We repeated this process with two-by-fours, bolts,nuts, and finally the plywood square that would become(65) the platform. My father built it with lightning speed.One of my friends gaped at how quickly my fathercould drive screws. Before long, Dad called down say-ing everything was finished and ready for “preliminarytesting.” I didn’t know what he meant by that. “Stand(70) back, guys,” my dad called. We hastily obliged.My father, already standing on the platform, lookedstrangely comfortable so high in the ponderosa tree.Granted, he was still in his harness roped to the tree, butnerves have a funny way of ignoring appeals to logic.(75) Satisfied with his handiwork, my dad began bounc-ing lightly on the balls of his feet. The platform didn’tbudge. Next, he started jumping up and down violently.This shook the platform and made the tree sway, buteverything seemed soundly built and tightly secured.(80) “All right, now we learn to rappel.”My father slid down his rope and called us to joinhim in the attic of the garage. I had only seen what wasup there a few times, and it mostly bored me. Behindan old armoire, though, was a dusty black trunk that(85) I had never seen before. My father began pulling ropesand harnesses from it, then carabiners and rappellingdevices. We eagerly grabbed the equipment and took itto the backyard. My father fit us for the harnesses andbegan an impromptu lesson on the critical safety rules(90) of climbing and rappelling.In a few hours and after a little practice off theroof of the house, we were all ready to tackle the hugetree in the back yard.Q.The passage states that the narrator had to cope with his father’s reputation as:a)famously daring and socially engaging.b)severe and unyielding to the narrator’s wishes.c)incorrigibly unmindful of the narrator and the narrator’s friends’ activities in the neighborhood.d)prone to reckless stunts and outlandish behavior.Correct answer is option 'A'. Can you explain this answer? in English & in Hindi are available as part of our courses for ACT. Download more important topics, notes, lectures and mock test series for ACT Exam by signing up for free.

Here you can find the meaning of Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Extreme DadAs I was growing up, each autumn brought with itthe excitement of a new school year and new friends.However, I did not look forward to the inevitable ques-tion young boys pose to one another: “What does your(5) dad do?” Some people cannot remember being askedthat question in school, but it bears special weight forme. My father is recently retired from his career asa Hollywood stunt performer. When I was a child, hewould do more death-defying tricks in a week than I’m(10) sure I will ever do in my lifetime. My father’s extremecareer and energetic lifestyle made him the coolest dadin town, and I had to live up to him.For American boys, no piece of plywood is safe;it has “ramp” written all over. We would prop some(15) plywood up on a cinderblock and see how high it couldlaunch us on a bike or skates. That was sufficiently funfor years, but eventually my father’s reputation caughtup with me. Soon, my friends wanted to go biggerwith the idea of a homemade launch pad. They urged(20) me to seek my father’s help. At first, I resisted, sinceI didn’t want to start a trend of hair-raising stunts onmy neighborhood street. Who knows what the old ladyacross the street would think?As it turned out, my father was more eager than(25) I was to introduce some stunts to my group of friends.Instead of building a giant ramp, he suggested, whynot build a platform high in the ponderosa pine treeout back from which we could rappel to the ground?It sounded crazy to me, but I yielded to my father.(30) He loved the cliche appeasement, “Trust me; I’m aprofessional.” So, that afternoon, my friends, father,and I piled in the truck and headed for the lumberyard.By this time, I was starting to warm to the idea of arappelling platform in my backyard. My friends could(35) hardly contain their excitement. After all, they wereabout to do something crazy under the supervision ofa real stuntman!My father cruised the aisles at the lumberyard withamazing deftness and efficiency. As he waited for some(40) plywood to be cut, he filled his cart with all kindsof materials that little boys love: nails, screws, glue,chain, cable, nuts, and bolts. This would be the firsttime my friends and I had built anything out of shiny,new parts. No doubt this would be the most awesome(45) stunt in town!When we returned home, we unloaded all of thesupplies near the base of the tree. Looking up thetrunk, my friends and I realized we had a lot of coolbuilding materials but no way to get them up the tree.(50) At that moment, my dad emerged from the garage.“Here’s the last piece.” He held a climbing harness andrope in his hands. “Now I’m going to go up thereand build the structure, then two of you can come upand help with the rigging.” For the next hour, we sat(55) in stunned silence. My father threw one end of hisrope around an upper limb, secured it, and started theslow process of drawing on the two mechanical ascen-ders. Before long, he had reached the notch in the tree,braced himself, and sent down a length of cord to us.(60) “Put a quarter-inch bit in the drill and send it up,”he cried. We prepared the drill and tied it to the line.My father hoisted it and bored the boltholes into thetree. We repeated this process with two-by-fours, bolts,nuts, and finally the plywood square that would become(65) the platform. My father built it with lightning speed.One of my friends gaped at how quickly my fathercould drive screws. Before long, Dad called down say-ing everything was finished and ready for “preliminarytesting.” I didn’t know what he meant by that. “Stand(70) back, guys,” my dad called. We hastily obliged.My father, already standing on the platform, lookedstrangely comfortable so high in the ponderosa tree.Granted, he was still in his harness roped to the tree, butnerves have a funny way of ignoring appeals to logic.(75) Satisfied with his handiwork, my dad began bounc-ing lightly on the balls of his feet. The platform didn’tbudge. Next, he started jumping up and down violently.This shook the platform and made the tree sway, buteverything seemed soundly built and tightly secured.(80) “All right, now we learn to rappel.”My father slid down his rope and called us to joinhim in the attic of the garage. I had only seen what wasup there a few times, and it mostly bored me. Behindan old armoire, though, was a dusty black trunk that(85) I had never seen before. My father began pulling ropesand harnesses from it, then carabiners and rappellingdevices. We eagerly grabbed the equipment and took itto the backyard. My father fit us for the harnesses andbegan an impromptu lesson on the critical safety rules(90) of climbing and rappelling.In a few hours and after a little practice off theroof of the house, we were all ready to tackle the hugetree in the back yard.Q.The passage states that the narrator had to cope with his father’s reputation as:a)famously daring and socially engaging.b)severe and unyielding to the narrator’s wishes.c)incorrigibly unmindful of the narrator and the narrator’s friends’ activities in the neighborhood.d)prone to reckless stunts and outlandish behavior.Correct answer is option 'A'. Can you explain this answer? defined & explained in the simplest way possible. Besides giving the explanation of Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Extreme DadAs I was growing up, each autumn brought with itthe excitement of a new school year and new friends.However, I did not look forward to the inevitable ques-tion young boys pose to one another: “What does your(5) dad do?” Some people cannot remember being askedthat question in school, but it bears special weight forme. My father is recently retired from his career asa Hollywood stunt performer. When I was a child, hewould do more death-defying tricks in a week than I’m(10) sure I will ever do in my lifetime. My father’s extremecareer and energetic lifestyle made him the coolest dadin town, and I had to live up to him.For American boys, no piece of plywood is safe;it has “ramp” written all over. We would prop some(15) plywood up on a cinderblock and see how high it couldlaunch us on a bike or skates. That was sufficiently funfor years, but eventually my father’s reputation caughtup with me. Soon, my friends wanted to go biggerwith the idea of a homemade launch pad. They urged(20) me to seek my father’s help. At first, I resisted, sinceI didn’t want to start a trend of hair-raising stunts onmy neighborhood street. Who knows what the old ladyacross the street would think?As it turned out, my father was more eager than(25) I was to introduce some stunts to my group of friends.Instead of building a giant ramp, he suggested, whynot build a platform high in the ponderosa pine treeout back from which we could rappel to the ground?It sounded crazy to me, but I yielded to my father.(30) He loved the cliche appeasement, “Trust me; I’m aprofessional.” So, that afternoon, my friends, father,and I piled in the truck and headed for the lumberyard.By this time, I was starting to warm to the idea of arappelling platform in my backyard. My friends could(35) hardly contain their excitement. After all, they wereabout to do something crazy under the supervision ofa real stuntman!My father cruised the aisles at the lumberyard withamazing deftness and efficiency. As he waited for some(40) plywood to be cut, he filled his cart with all kindsof materials that little boys love: nails, screws, glue,chain, cable, nuts, and bolts. This would be the firsttime my friends and I had built anything out of shiny,new parts. No doubt this would be the most awesome(45) stunt in town!When we returned home, we unloaded all of thesupplies near the base of the tree. Looking up thetrunk, my friends and I realized we had a lot of coolbuilding materials but no way to get them up the tree.(50) At that moment, my dad emerged from the garage.“Here’s the last piece.” He held a climbing harness andrope in his hands. “Now I’m going to go up thereand build the structure, then two of you can come upand help with the rigging.” For the next hour, we sat(55) in stunned silence. My father threw one end of hisrope around an upper limb, secured it, and started theslow process of drawing on the two mechanical ascen-ders. Before long, he had reached the notch in the tree,braced himself, and sent down a length of cord to us.(60) “Put a quarter-inch bit in the drill and send it up,”he cried. We prepared the drill and tied it to the line.My father hoisted it and bored the boltholes into thetree. We repeated this process with two-by-fours, bolts,nuts, and finally the plywood square that would become(65) the platform. My father built it with lightning speed.One of my friends gaped at how quickly my fathercould drive screws. Before long, Dad called down say-ing everything was finished and ready for “preliminarytesting.” I didn’t know what he meant by that. “Stand(70) back, guys,” my dad called. We hastily obliged.My father, already standing on the platform, lookedstrangely comfortable so high in the ponderosa tree.Granted, he was still in his harness roped to the tree, butnerves have a funny way of ignoring appeals to logic.(75) Satisfied with his handiwork, my dad began bounc-ing lightly on the balls of his feet. The platform didn’tbudge. Next, he started jumping up and down violently.This shook the platform and made the tree sway, buteverything seemed soundly built and tightly secured.(80) “All right, now we learn to rappel.”My father slid down his rope and called us to joinhim in the attic of the garage. I had only seen what wasup there a few times, and it mostly bored me. Behindan old armoire, though, was a dusty black trunk that(85) I had never seen before. My father began pulling ropesand harnesses from it, then carabiners and rappellingdevices. We eagerly grabbed the equipment and took itto the backyard. My father fit us for the harnesses andbegan an impromptu lesson on the critical safety rules(90) of climbing and rappelling.In a few hours and after a little practice off theroof of the house, we were all ready to tackle the hugetree in the back yard.Q.The passage states that the narrator had to cope with his father’s reputation as:a)famously daring and socially engaging.b)severe and unyielding to the narrator’s wishes.c)incorrigibly unmindful of the narrator and the narrator’s friends’ activities in the neighborhood.d)prone to reckless stunts and outlandish behavior.Correct answer is option 'A'. Can you explain this answer?, a detailed solution for Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Extreme DadAs I was growing up, each autumn brought with itthe excitement of a new school year and new friends.However, I did not look forward to the inevitable ques-tion young boys pose to one another: “What does your(5) dad do?” Some people cannot remember being askedthat question in school, but it bears special weight forme. My father is recently retired from his career asa Hollywood stunt performer. When I was a child, hewould do more death-defying tricks in a week than I’m(10) sure I will ever do in my lifetime. My father’s extremecareer and energetic lifestyle made him the coolest dadin town, and I had to live up to him.For American boys, no piece of plywood is safe;it has “ramp” written all over. We would prop some(15) plywood up on a cinderblock and see how high it couldlaunch us on a bike or skates. That was sufficiently funfor years, but eventually my father’s reputation caughtup with me. Soon, my friends wanted to go biggerwith the idea of a homemade launch pad. They urged(20) me to seek my father’s help. At first, I resisted, sinceI didn’t want to start a trend of hair-raising stunts onmy neighborhood street. Who knows what the old ladyacross the street would think?As it turned out, my father was more eager than(25) I was to introduce some stunts to my group of friends.Instead of building a giant ramp, he suggested, whynot build a platform high in the ponderosa pine treeout back from which we could rappel to the ground?It sounded crazy to me, but I yielded to my father.(30) He loved the cliche appeasement, “Trust me; I’m aprofessional.” So, that afternoon, my friends, father,and I piled in the truck and headed for the lumberyard.By this time, I was starting to warm to the idea of arappelling platform in my backyard. My friends could(35) hardly contain their excitement. After all, they wereabout to do something crazy under the supervision ofa real stuntman!My father cruised the aisles at the lumberyard withamazing deftness and efficiency. As he waited for some(40) plywood to be cut, he filled his cart with all kindsof materials that little boys love: nails, screws, glue,chain, cable, nuts, and bolts. This would be the firsttime my friends and I had built anything out of shiny,new parts. No doubt this would be the most awesome(45) stunt in town!When we returned home, we unloaded all of thesupplies near the base of the tree. Looking up thetrunk, my friends and I realized we had a lot of coolbuilding materials but no way to get them up the tree.(50) At that moment, my dad emerged from the garage.“Here’s the last piece.” He held a climbing harness andrope in his hands. “Now I’m going to go up thereand build the structure, then two of you can come upand help with the rigging.” For the next hour, we sat(55) in stunned silence. My father threw one end of hisrope around an upper limb, secured it, and started theslow process of drawing on the two mechanical ascen-ders. Before long, he had reached the notch in the tree,braced himself, and sent down a length of cord to us.(60) “Put a quarter-inch bit in the drill and send it up,”he cried. We prepared the drill and tied it to the line.My father hoisted it and bored the boltholes into thetree. We repeated this process with two-by-fours, bolts,nuts, and finally the plywood square that would become(65) the platform. My father built it with lightning speed.One of my friends gaped at how quickly my fathercould drive screws. Before long, Dad called down say-ing everything was finished and ready for “preliminarytesting.” I didn’t know what he meant by that. “Stand(70) back, guys,” my dad called. We hastily obliged.My father, already standing on the platform, lookedstrangely comfortable so high in the ponderosa tree.Granted, he was still in his harness roped to the tree, butnerves have a funny way of ignoring appeals to logic.(75) Satisfied with his handiwork, my dad began bounc-ing lightly on the balls of his feet. The platform didn’tbudge. Next, he started jumping up and down violently.This shook the platform and made the tree sway, buteverything seemed soundly built and tightly secured.(80) “All right, now we learn to rappel.”My father slid down his rope and called us to joinhim in the attic of the garage. I had only seen what wasup there a few times, and it mostly bored me. Behindan old armoire, though, was a dusty black trunk that(85) I had never seen before. My father began pulling ropesand harnesses from it, then carabiners and rappellingdevices. We eagerly grabbed the equipment and took itto the backyard. My father fit us for the harnesses andbegan an impromptu lesson on the critical safety rules(90) of climbing and rappelling.In a few hours and after a little practice off theroof of the house, we were all ready to tackle the hugetree in the back yard.Q.The passage states that the narrator had to cope with his father’s reputation as:a)famously daring and socially engaging.b)severe and unyielding to the narrator’s wishes.c)incorrigibly unmindful of the narrator and the narrator’s friends’ activities in the neighborhood.d)prone to reckless stunts and outlandish behavior.Correct answer is option 'A'. Can you explain this answer? has been provided alongside types of Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Extreme DadAs I was growing up, each autumn brought with itthe excitement of a new school year and new friends.However, I did not look forward to the inevitable ques-tion young boys pose to one another: “What does your(5) dad do?” Some people cannot remember being askedthat question in school, but it bears special weight forme. My father is recently retired from his career asa Hollywood stunt performer. When I was a child, hewould do more death-defying tricks in a week than I’m(10) sure I will ever do in my lifetime. My father’s extremecareer and energetic lifestyle made him the coolest dadin town, and I had to live up to him.For American boys, no piece of plywood is safe;it has “ramp” written all over. We would prop some(15) plywood up on a cinderblock and see how high it couldlaunch us on a bike or skates. That was sufficiently funfor years, but eventually my father’s reputation caughtup with me. Soon, my friends wanted to go biggerwith the idea of a homemade launch pad. They urged(20) me to seek my father’s help. At first, I resisted, sinceI didn’t want to start a trend of hair-raising stunts onmy neighborhood street. Who knows what the old ladyacross the street would think?As it turned out, my father was more eager than(25) I was to introduce some stunts to my group of friends.Instead of building a giant ramp, he suggested, whynot build a platform high in the ponderosa pine treeout back from which we could rappel to the ground?It sounded crazy to me, but I yielded to my father.(30) He loved the cliche appeasement, “Trust me; I’m aprofessional.” So, that afternoon, my friends, father,and I piled in the truck and headed for the lumberyard.By this time, I was starting to warm to the idea of arappelling platform in my backyard. My friends could(35) hardly contain their excitement. After all, they wereabout to do something crazy under the supervision ofa real stuntman!My father cruised the aisles at the lumberyard withamazing deftness and efficiency. As he waited for some(40) plywood to be cut, he filled his cart with all kindsof materials that little boys love: nails, screws, glue,chain, cable, nuts, and bolts. This would be the firsttime my friends and I had built anything out of shiny,new parts. No doubt this would be the most awesome(45) stunt in town!When we returned home, we unloaded all of thesupplies near the base of the tree. Looking up thetrunk, my friends and I realized we had a lot of coolbuilding materials but no way to get them up the tree.(50) At that moment, my dad emerged from the garage.“Here’s the last piece.” He held a climbing harness andrope in his hands. “Now I’m going to go up thereand build the structure, then two of you can come upand help with the rigging.” For the next hour, we sat(55) in stunned silence. My father threw one end of hisrope around an upper limb, secured it, and started theslow process of drawing on the two mechanical ascen-ders. Before long, he had reached the notch in the tree,braced himself, and sent down a length of cord to us.(60) “Put a quarter-inch bit in the drill and send it up,”he cried. We prepared the drill and tied it to the line.My father hoisted it and bored the boltholes into thetree. We repeated this process with two-by-fours, bolts,nuts, and finally the plywood square that would become(65) the platform. My father built it with lightning speed.One of my friends gaped at how quickly my fathercould drive screws. Before long, Dad called down say-ing everything was finished and ready for “preliminarytesting.” I didn’t know what he meant by that. “Stand(70) back, guys,” my dad called. We hastily obliged.My father, already standing on the platform, lookedstrangely comfortable so high in the ponderosa tree.Granted, he was still in his harness roped to the tree, butnerves have a funny way of ignoring appeals to logic.(75) Satisfied with his handiwork, my dad began bounc-ing lightly on the balls of his feet. The platform didn’tbudge. Next, he started jumping up and down violently.This shook the platform and made the tree sway, buteverything seemed soundly built and tightly secured.(80) “All right, now we learn to rappel.”My father slid down his rope and called us to joinhim in the attic of the garage. I had only seen what wasup there a few times, and it mostly bored me. Behindan old armoire, though, was a dusty black trunk that(85) I had never seen before. My father began pulling ropesand harnesses from it, then carabiners and rappellingdevices. We eagerly grabbed the equipment and took itto the backyard. My father fit us for the harnesses andbegan an impromptu lesson on the critical safety rules(90) of climbing and rappelling.In a few hours and after a little practice off theroof of the house, we were all ready to tackle the hugetree in the back yard.Q.The passage states that the narrator had to cope with his father’s reputation as:a)famously daring and socially engaging.b)severe and unyielding to the narrator’s wishes.c)incorrigibly unmindful of the narrator and the narrator’s friends’ activities in the neighborhood.d)prone to reckless stunts and outlandish behavior.Correct answer is option 'A'. Can you explain this answer? theory, EduRev gives you an ample number of questions to practice Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Extreme DadAs I was growing up, each autumn brought with itthe excitement of a new school year and new friends.However, I did not look forward to the inevitable ques-tion young boys pose to one another: “What does your(5) dad do?” Some people cannot remember being askedthat question in school, but it bears special weight forme. My father is recently retired from his career asa Hollywood stunt performer. When I was a child, hewould do more death-defying tricks in a week than I’m(10) sure I will ever do in my lifetime. My father’s extremecareer and energetic lifestyle made him the coolest dadin town, and I had to live up to him.For American boys, no piece of plywood is safe;it has “ramp” written all over. We would prop some(15) plywood up on a cinderblock and see how high it couldlaunch us on a bike or skates. That was sufficiently funfor years, but eventually my father’s reputation caughtup with me. Soon, my friends wanted to go biggerwith the idea of a homemade launch pad. They urged(20) me to seek my father’s help. At first, I resisted, sinceI didn’t want to start a trend of hair-raising stunts onmy neighborhood street. Who knows what the old ladyacross the street would think?As it turned out, my father was more eager than(25) I was to introduce some stunts to my group of friends.Instead of building a giant ramp, he suggested, whynot build a platform high in the ponderosa pine treeout back from which we could rappel to the ground?It sounded crazy to me, but I yielded to my father.(30) He loved the cliche appeasement, “Trust me; I’m aprofessional.” So, that afternoon, my friends, father,and I piled in the truck and headed for the lumberyard.By this time, I was starting to warm to the idea of arappelling platform in my backyard. My friends could(35) hardly contain their excitement. After all, they wereabout to do something crazy under the supervision ofa real stuntman!My father cruised the aisles at the lumberyard withamazing deftness and efficiency. As he waited for some(40) plywood to be cut, he filled his cart with all kindsof materials that little boys love: nails, screws, glue,chain, cable, nuts, and bolts. This would be the firsttime my friends and I had built anything out of shiny,new parts. No doubt this would be the most awesome(45) stunt in town!When we returned home, we unloaded all of thesupplies near the base of the tree. Looking up thetrunk, my friends and I realized we had a lot of coolbuilding materials but no way to get them up the tree.(50) At that moment, my dad emerged from the garage.“Here’s the last piece.” He held a climbing harness andrope in his hands. “Now I’m going to go up thereand build the structure, then two of you can come upand help with the rigging.” For the next hour, we sat(55) in stunned silence. My father threw one end of hisrope around an upper limb, secured it, and started theslow process of drawing on the two mechanical ascen-ders. Before long, he had reached the notch in the tree,braced himself, and sent down a length of cord to us.(60) “Put a quarter-inch bit in the drill and send it up,”he cried. We prepared the drill and tied it to the line.My father hoisted it and bored the boltholes into thetree. We repeated this process with two-by-fours, bolts,nuts, and finally the plywood square that would become(65) the platform. My father built it with lightning speed.One of my friends gaped at how quickly my fathercould drive screws. Before long, Dad called down say-ing everything was finished and ready for “preliminarytesting.” I didn’t know what he meant by that. “Stand(70) back, guys,” my dad called. We hastily obliged.My father, already standing on the platform, lookedstrangely comfortable so high in the ponderosa tree.Granted, he was still in his harness roped to the tree, butnerves have a funny way of ignoring appeals to logic.(75) Satisfied with his handiwork, my dad began bounc-ing lightly on the balls of his feet. The platform didn’tbudge. Next, he started jumping up and down violently.This shook the platform and made the tree sway, buteverything seemed soundly built and tightly secured.(80) “All right, now we learn to rappel.”My father slid down his rope and called us to joinhim in the attic of the garage. I had only seen what wasup there a few times, and it mostly bored me. Behindan old armoire, though, was a dusty black trunk that(85) I had never seen before. My father began pulling ropesand harnesses from it, then carabiners and rappellingdevices. We eagerly grabbed the equipment and took itto the backyard. My father fit us for the harnesses andbegan an impromptu lesson on the critical safety rules(90) of climbing and rappelling.In a few hours and after a little practice off theroof of the house, we were all ready to tackle the hugetree in the back yard.Q.The passage states that the narrator had to cope with his father’s reputation as:a)famously daring and socially engaging.b)severe and unyielding to the narrator’s wishes.c)incorrigibly unmindful of the narrator and the narrator’s friends’ activities in the neighborhood.d)prone to reckless stunts and outlandish behavior.Correct answer is option 'A'. Can you explain this answer? tests, examples and also practice ACT tests.