Read the following passage carefully. "Mum!" I shouted. "Are you okay?" I saw her little tent shuddering in the gale and listened closely for her response. Her voice was almost casual: "Oh, yes, I’m fine." That’s my mother. It was the first night of our cycling trip through the interior of Iceland—a region so remote and inhospitable that for centuries, according to legend, it was abandoned. The weather was decidedly hurricane-like, but Mum wasn’t concerned. Months ago, I told her about my plan to pedal across Iceland. "It will be really difficult," I said. "The roads are unpaved and often washed out, and the wind is blowing constantly — sometimes so hard that it pushes you off the road." There was silence for a moment. Then she asked, "Can I come?" "Sure," I replied. "But like the rest of us, you have to train to do two 160 kilo metres a day back-to-back," "Wow," she said, "I could never do that." I had more faith in my mother’s physical abilities than she did. I’d seen her raise six children and put in long hours doing physical labour on our small farm. "Sure you can," I told her, "Start tomorrow." What really concerned me was what 1 perceived to be her frustrating humility: I thought her too self-depreciating about her intellect just because she had not completed college. 1 felt she underestimated her attractiveness just because she was not the type to wear makeup or fancy clothes. As I had grown into adulthood, the life I’d chosen seemed light-years away from Mum’s quiet existence, still caring for her children and her children’s children. Sometimes, on a visit home, I’d describe some recent trip I’d taken, and her blue eyes would shine with interest. So I couldn’t help thinking this trek might revitalize Mum, who had started to slow down in her 50s. It might spice up what I saw as her humdrum life. And it might be a boost to her tentative and retiring persona. Mum trained furiously, months in advance. As the trip roster was pared down to Mum, my good friend Allen and me, she stood as the most dedicated. Soon she was riding 80-100 kilo metres per day, and was as strong a rider as Allen or I. On the basis of your reading of the passage, answer the following questions briefly: (a) How does the narrator describe the weather and road conditions in Iceland? (b) What training did the adventure cycling trip require? Why did the narrator have faith in his mother’s physical ability to undertake the trip? (c) In what way did the narrator think the trip would help his mother? (d) When were the narrator and his friend sure about his mum’s preparation?
Answers
The correct answers are -
a. The weather in Iceland's interiors is certainly like a hurricane and most of the roads are washed out and unpaved. The wind is constantly blowing, and sometimes so strong that it drives a person off the lane.
b. The preparation involved doing two 160 kms of sets a day back and forth. The narrator had faith in the physical abilities of his mother, as he saw her raise six children. He had also seen her placed in their small family farm in long hours doing physics research.
c. The narrator thought the cycling trip would revitalize his mother, who had started slowing down in her 50s. He thought her life would spice on the humdrum and lift her anxious and retired person
d. The narrator's mother had judiciously prepared months in advance for the cycling trip. His mother stood as the most committed as he. His friend Allen and her, were pared down the trip roster and soon ran 80-100 kms per day.