Questions 1-7 refer to the following passage:

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To Lease or Not to Lease

Planning to lease a car because you don’t think you can afford to buy? Think again. Leasing can end up being just as expensive as buying—and you don’t even get to the keep the car. Most people who are thinking about leasing are attracted to this option because they believe it will cost them less money. And they’re right—it is cheaper, but only in the short term. For example, if you were to lease a brand-new Subaru Forester with $4,000 down, you might pay $300 per month for the car. If you were to buy the same car with $3,000 down, you would pay closer to $400 per month. Over a three-year lease, that’s $3,600—a big savings. But after your lease is over, you have to give the car back. If you want to keep driving, you’ll either have to put another down-payment on another lease, or, if you have the option to buy the car, you’ll have to pay thousands of dollars to purchase the vehicle—dollars that won’t be spread out in more manageable monthly payments.

Many people want to lease because they can drive a more upmarket car than they might otherwise be able to afford. For example, if your monthly budget allowed you to spend $300 on a car, you might be able to lease a brand new Ford Explorer. For the same price, you might have to buy an Explorer that was two or three years old with 50,000 miles, or buy a new but considerably less expensive make and model. A lease, therefore, allows you to drive the latest models of more expensive cars. But when your lease is over, you will have to return that Explorer. Whatever car you can afford to buy, you get to keep it, and it will always have a resell or trade-in value if you want to later upgrade to a newer car.

Furthermore, people who lease cars are often shocked and appalled by how much they must pay when the lease is over. Most leases limit you to a certain number of miles, and if you go over that allotment, you must pay for each mile. As a result, at the end of a lease, you may end up paying thousands of dollars in mileage fees. For example, if your lease covers you for 25,000 miles over three years, but you drive 40,000, that’s an extra 15,000 miles. At $.11 per mile, that’s $1,650 you’ll have to pay. And you still won’t have a car

In addition, when you lease, you still have to pay for regular maintenance and repairs to the vehicle. Since you must return the car when your lease expires, you are paying to repair someone else’s car. If you own the car, however, you would know that every dollar you spend maintaining or repairing the car is an investment in a real piece of property—your property, not someone else’s.

By now, the benefits of buying over leasing should be clear. But if you’re still not convinced, remember this fundamental fact: If you lease, when your lease is up, and after you’ve made all of your monthly payments, paid for extra mileage, and paid for repairs, you must give the car back. It isn’t yours to keep, no matter how much the lease cost you. Whatever make or model you can afford to buy, it is yours to keep after you make the payments. There’s no giving it back, and that makes all the difference.

"The Weekly Visit"
(short story excerpt)

The requisite visit happened typically on sunny Saturdays, when my child spirits were at their highest and could be most diminished by the cramped interior of her house. My mother, accustomed to the bright, spacious farmhouse that was once Grandma’s seemed no less susceptible to the gloom. She would set her jaw as Grandma described the many ailments attendant on age and would check her watch—an hour being the minimum she expected herself to withstand. Her barely contained impatience and my grandmother’s crippling age radiated out around me. We were the women of the Carlson clan, each throbbing with agitation, like concentric, blinking circles on a radar screen.

I would sit at the white and red metal table with the pull-out leaves and built-in silverware drawer, cracking almonds. This was the one good thing at Grandma’s house, the almonds, which she kept in a green Depression glass bowl. I would lift the lid carefully and try to set it down on the metal table quietly, then attempt to crack the nuts without scattering the shell crumbs. It was not good to draw attention to myself at Grandma Carlson’s. Sounding angry, she would call to me in her croupy drawl. When I failed to understand her, she would reach out to me with her palsied, slick, wrinkled hand and shout, “Here!” She would be offering some of her horehound candy, which tasted like a cross between butterscotch and bitter sticks.

There was this lamentable air in the dim house with its itchy mohair furniture and its dark colors, an awareness—Grandma’s—underlying the mentholatum, that her age scared her grandkids. I would yearn during the dutiful visit to get outside into the yard, where Grandma had transplanted a few flowers when she moved from the farm. But even the yard, with its overgrown hedges and rusted metal lawn chairs, seemed dreary. When I came back inside, light and air bursting in with me, Grandma, her hair up in a gray bun, would rock a little and smile. I would lean then against my mother’s chair, Grandma’s fond eyes peering at me, and whisper out of the corner of my mouth, “Mom, can we go?”

"The Wolf and the Crane"

A wolf who had a bone stuck in his throat hired a crane, for a large sum, to put her head into his mouth and draw out the bone. When the crane had extracted the bone and demanded the promised payment, the wolf, grinning and grinding his teeth, exclaimed: "Why you have surely already had a sufficient recompense, in having been permitted to draw out your head in safety from the mouth and jaws of a wolf."

Fly-Rights—A Consumer Guide to Air Travel
(excerpt)

If your reservations are booked far enough ahead of time, the airline may offer to mail your tickets to you. However, if you don’t receive the tickets and the airline’s records show that they mailed them, you may have to go through cumbersome lost-ticket procedures. It is safer to check the telephone directory for a conveniently located travel agency or airline ticket office and buy your tickets there.

As soon as you receive your ticket, make sure all the information on it is correct, especially the airports (if any of the cities have more than one) and the flight dates. Have any necessary corrections made immediately

It’s a good idea to reconfirm your reservations before you start your trip; flight schedules sometimes change. On international trips, most airlines require that you reconfirm your onward or return reservations at least 72 hours before each flight. If you don’t, your reservations may be canceled.

Check your tickets as you board each flight to ensure that only the correct coupon has been removed by the airline agent.

"Bear Story"

Campers Gene and Marie Marsden took pride in being good citizens when in the wild. While driving the three hundred miles from their home in Colorado to the Green River Lakes area of the Wind River Mountains in Wyoming, they instructed their children in the protocol they’d learned in the bear safety pamphlet put out by the Bridger-Teton Forest Service. The number-one rule was “Don’t feed the bears!”—whether intentionally or not. Warning the kids not to go anywhere near a bear, the Marsdens had no problem with the intentional part, but the unintentional part was not as easy to avoid as they thought.

Mr. and Mrs. Marsden did their best to keep a tidy camp. While the bear manual had said to hang all food at least ten feet off the ground and four feet out from the trunk of a tree, they did what all the other people in the nearby public campground were doing and locked their food in their little utility trailer at night. Afraid that the scent of the bait might attract a bear, they even locked up Marie’s fishing pole. It was always dark when they went to bed, but they perused the campsite with flashlights, making sure nothing was left out. Taking the recommended precaution of sleeping a hundred yards from where they cooked their food, they kept the car near their tents, unhitched from the trailer, which they left up at the other camp. Before going to bed each night, all of the Marsdens took off the clothes they had worn during the day while eating, replacing them with pajamas that they used only for sleeping. They were also careful to lock the dirty laundry in the trailer. As the pamphlet advised, they took no snacks into their tents.

Gene says he now regrets not having taken their dog into the tent at night, but they liked having him on guard. Small animals would often come sniffing around, and the dog would chase them back into the thickets, then return to the hollow he’d dug for himself in front of the children’s tent. But on the night of the encounter, Spike would not stop barking, and Marie Marsden knew he must be sounding the alarm on something more dangerous and dauntless than a raccoon or squirrel. When she unzipped the tent and shined her flashlight in the direction of the cooking area, she saw Spike attempting to hold a young grizzly bear at bay.

They all managed to pile into the car, and with the kids sitting atop stuffed sacks full of clothes and gear, they drove quickly down the trail, calling out the window to Spike and abandoning the cargo trailer to whatever fate the bear might have in store for it. Uncertain whether the bear was following, one of the children opened a door and loaded Spike up on the run. They drove to a pay phone twenty miles away and called a Fish and Game Department ranger, who identified the bear by the white ruff the Marsdens had seen around his neck. The authorities informed the Marsdens that the bear was a young, recently weaned male that they’d been keeping an eye on.

The next morning, the Marsdens heard helicopters circling over the mountain above them and wondered if it might have something to do with the bear. After spending the night in the public campground, they drove back to their site. Wandering the area in search of clues, Marie came to a halt below the tallest spruce. She slapped her head and shouted, “Oh no!”

“What is it?” Gene asked.

Marie pointed at the ground where Spike’s dog food bowl lay upside down.

A week after their return home, the Marsdens read the headline in their local paper. “Bear Euthanized in Wind Rivers.” According to the article, the Fish and Game Department had shot the young bear because, having been rewarded for invading a human campsite, it would likely do so again.

The Marsdens knew they had been lucky in the encounter, yet much to their shame and sadness, they also knew that the bear had not.

"A Plains Childhood"

When I think of my family’s history on the land, I experience a pang of regret. Unlike much of the arid West, where the land has gone virtually unchanged for centuries, my place of origin, western Kansas, has been torn up by agriculture. The flat plains, excellent soil, and sparse but just adequate rainfall permitted farming; therefore farming prevailed, and a good 90% of the original sod prairie is gone. The consequence, in human terms, is that our relationship to our place has always felt primarily mercantile. We used the land and denied, or held at bay, its effect on us. Yet from my earliest childhood, when most of the Kansas prairie was still intact, I’ve known that the land also had a romantic quality. I’ve felt moved by the expanse of it, enthralled by its size. I take pride in my identity as a plains daughter.

The coast of the State of Maine

The coast of the State of Maine is one of the most irregular in the world. A straight line running from the southernmost coastal city to the northernmost coastal city would measure about 225 miles. If you followed the coastline between these points, you would travel more than ten times as far. This irregularity is the result of what is called a drowned coastline. The term comes from the glacial activity of the Ice Age. At that time, the whole area that is now Maine was part of a mountain range that towered above the sea. As the glacier descended, however, it expended enormous force on those mountains, and they sank into the sea.

As the mountains sank, ocean water charged over the lowest parts of the remaining land, forming a series of twisting inlets and lagoons of contorted grottos and nooks. The highest parts of the former mountain range, nearest the shore, remained as islands. Mt. Desert Island was one of the most famous of all the islands left behind by the glacier. Marine fossils found here were 225 feet above sea level indicating the level of the shoreline prior to the glacier.

The 2,500 mile long rocky and jagged coastline of Maine keeps watch over nearly 2,000 islands. Many of these islands are tiny and uninhabited, but many are home to thriving communities. Mt. Desert Island is one of the largest, most beautiful of the Maine coast islands. Measuring 16 miles by 12 miles, Mt. Desert was very nearly formed as two distinct islands. It is split almost in half by Somes Sound, a very deep and very narrow stretch of water seven miles long.

For years, Mt. Desert Island, particularly its major settlement, Bar Harbor, afforded summer homes for the wealthy. Recently though, Bar Harbor has become a burgeoning arts community as well. But, the best part of the island is the unspoiled forest land known as Acadia National Park. Since the island sits on the boundary line between the temperate and subarctic zones, the island supports the flora and fauna of both zones as well as beach, inland, and alpine plants. It also lies in a major bird migration lane and is a resting spot for many birds.

The establishment of Acadia National Park in 1916 means that this natural monument will be preserved and that it will be available to all people, not just the wealthy. Visitors to Acadia may receive nature instruction from the park naturalists as well as enjoy camping, hiking, cycling, and boating. Or they may choose to spend time at the archeological museum learning about the Stone Age inhabitants of the island.

The best view on Mt. Desert Island is from the top of Cadillac Mountain. This mountain rises 1,532 feet, making it the highest mountain on the Atlantic seaboard. From the summit, you can gaze back toward the mainland or out over the Atlantic Ocean and contemplate the beauty created by a retreating glacier.

The immune system

The immune system is equal in complexity to the combined intricacies of the brain and nervous system. The success of the immune system in defending the body relies on a dynamic regulatory communications network consisting of millions and millions of cells. Organized into sets and subsets, these cells pass information back and forth like clouds of bees swarming around a hive. The result is a sensitive system of checks and balances that produces an immune response that is prompt, appropriate, effective, and self-limiting.

At the heart of the immune system is the ability to distinguish between self and nonself. When immune defenders encounter cells or organisms carrying foreign or nonself molecules, the immune troops move quickly to eliminate the intruders. Virtually every body cell carries distinctive molecules that identify it as self. The body’s immune defenses do not normally attack tissues that carry a self-marker. Rather, immune cells and other body cells coexist peaceably in a state known as self-tolerance. When a normally functioning immune system attacks a nonself molecule, the system has the ability to “remember” the specifics of the foreign body. Upon subsequent encounters with the same species of molecules, the immune system reacts accordingly. With the possible exception of antibodies passed during lactation, this so called immune system memory is not inherited. Despite the occurrence of a virus in your family, your immune system must “learn” from experience with the many millions of distinctive nonself molecules in the sea of microbes in which we live. Learning entails producing the appropriate molecules and cells to match up with and counteract each nonself invader.

Any substance capable of triggering an immune response is called an antigen. Antigens are not to be confused with allergens, which are most often harmless substances (such as ragweed pollen or cat hair) that provoke the immune system to set off the inappropriate and harmful response known as allergy. An antigen can be a virus, a bacterium, a fungus, a parasite, or even a portion or product of one of these organisms. Tissues or cells from another individual (except an identical twin, whose cells carry identical self-markers) also act as antigens; because the immune system recognizes transplanted tissues as foreign, it rejects them. The body will even reject nourishing proteins unless they are first broken down by the digestive system into their primary, nonantigenic building blocks. An antigen announces its foreignness by means of intricate and characteristic shapes called epitopes, which protrude from its surface. Most antigens, even the simplest microbes, carry several different kinds of epitopes on their surface; some may even carry several hundred. Some epitopes will be more effective than others at stimulating an immune response. Only in abnormal situations does the immune system wrongly identify self as nonself and execute a misdirected immune attack. The result can be a so-called autoimmune disease such as rheumatoid arthritis or systemic lupus erythematosis. The painful side effects of these diseases are caused by a person’s immune system actually attacking itself.