Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
one purple passion of a job for me, the unpleasantly fatal results of which are still lingering with me. Thad McCain, my boss at Manhattan-Universal Insurance, beamed over the sprawling automatic brain's silver gauges and plastic toggles as proudly as if he had just personally gave birth to it. "This will simplify your job to the point of a pleasant diversion, Madison." for. Then all that remains is for you to gather the accessory details, that no false claim could be filed. Of course, the brain will make Manhattan-Universal's top junior vice-president. He took it like a man. "That's what the machine is for," he said philosophically. "To detect human error. Hmm. What kind of a shove do you get out of this?" while a tawny redhead in a triangular fronted uniform carried me reels to order gave me only two ideas. Neither was very original. The one I rejected that one almost immediately. While an accident-prone was and exterior decoration eclipsed earlier periods of oak, plastics, reservation and a gun. was already nibbling the ear of his red-haired hostess. He was the It took me a full five minutes to find out that I couldn't take a Since that put me back in the days of horsepower, I trotted over to the automobile rental and hired a few hundred of them under the hood of a Rolls. That was about the only brand of car that fit me. I hadn't been able to get my legs into any other foreign car since I was fifteen, and I have steadfastly refused to enter an American model since they all sold out their birthrights as passenger cars and went over to the a boy. Dragging around thirty feet of car is sheer nonsense, even for prestige. tumble of dingy building blocks tossed in front of a rolled-up indigo sports shirt. That was Granite Mountain in the near foreground. But I remembered that over the course of some forty years the people in these few little stacks of lumber had taken Manhattan-Universal for three sitting at the side of the road, huddled in his dusty rags. "It is," I said. "Why shouldn't I drive up there? The street's open." "You would probably get killed if you did run the car here, you know," architecturally secure as a four-year-old's drawing of his home. The knocked. Moments later, the door opened. The lean-faced man who greeted me had his cheeks crisscrossed with razor nicks and his shirt on wrong side out. But his eyes were bright and sparrow alert. "Are you Mr. Marshal Thompson, the agent for Manhattan-Universal Insurance?" I put to him. "I'm his burned fingers. Catching the direction of my glance, he said, "Company is worth a few scalds, Mr. Madison." The marshal nodded thoughtfully. "You're new here." "But I mean it knows that there will be, say, a hundred fatal car "Well, probability says that more accidents are going to occur in these people, I'm afraid." "That would be a real tragedy, Mr. Madison. Insurance is vital to this "Yes, I understood you didn't like cars on your streets. At least not the cars of outsiders." a car. It would be suicide for anybody to drive a car, same as it would "Four o'clock," he said. "Roads are treacherous at night." tools. The place was as gory as a battlefield. "What are you looking for, bud?" The low, level snarl had come from a burly character in a syn-leather jacket and narrow-brimmed Stetson. the insurance company. Name's Madison." "Yeah, I know." I had supposed he would. "I'm Kelvin, the foreman here," the big man told me, extending a ham of a fist to be shook. "Outside, doing my Army time, I noticed that most people don't have as many slipups as we do here. Never could figure it out." "This rock is part of it—" "What do you mean by that!" Kelvin demanded savagely. "I mean the way you work it. No system to it. No stratification, no plateau work..." "Listen, Madison, don't talk about what you don't know anything the world. And it's used all over the world. We aren't just a bunch of meatheaded ditch diggers—we are craftsmen. We have to figure a different way of getting out every piece of stone." "It's too bad." "What's too bad?" "That you chose the wrong way so often," I said. Kelvin breathed a virile grade of tobacco into my face. "Listen, Madison, we have been working this quarry for generations, sometimes more of us working than other times. Today most of us are working "If this quarry has anything to do with defrauding Manhattan-Universal, I can tell you that I will do something about that!" the teen-age clerk's offer of a shot of white lightning from the booth. Two men somewhere between forty and sixty sat at the nearest Over the foam of my stein I saw the old man I had almost run down in the road. He marched through the two-thirds of the building composed of rows of can goods and approached the fat man at the cash register. "You're sure you can send it? Right away?" "That's—kind of you," the old man said awkwardly. Haskel shrugged. "A man has to eat." let him figure out why otherwise not in my field. I glanced at the old man. The proprietor of the store knew him and evidently thought him harmless enough to feed. "I doubt very much if either of us will be leaving, Mr. Madison," he let me go." "I don't see any shackles on you," I remarked. "Just because you can't see them," he growled, "doesn't mean they He has politely refused to let me use it. I'm a suspicious and undesirable character from packing your dental floss and cutting out?" "Haskel has the only motor vehicle in town—a half-ton pick-up, a minuscule contrivance less than the size of a passenger car. He makes It seemed incredible—more than that, unlikely, to me. "How about the granite itself? How do they ship it out?" "It's an artificial demand product, like diamonds," Professor Parnell walking out?" "Fifty miles down a steep mountain road? I'm an old man, Mr. Madison, Wordlessly, he handed over his billfold, letters, enough identification to have satisfied Allen Pinkerton or John Edgar Hoover. know that they are absolutely subhuman !" inferior to other human beings." "Look, I know the Klan is a growing organization but I can't go along with you." "Madison, understand me, I insist. Ethnologically speaking, it is well senses have been impaired. They are completely devoid of any use of telepathy, precognition, telekinesis." "Because they aren't supermen, that doesn't mean that they are submen," ability, but we don't realize it. We don't have the fabulous abilities of a few recorded cases of supermen, but we have some, a trace. Granite no psionic ability whatsoever, not even the little that you and I and the rest of the world have!" ability." "I tell you they do," he said hoarsely. "We never realize it but we all have some power of precognition. If we didn't, we would have a hundred . They can't foresee the "They don't want the world to know why they are psionically subnormal," he said crisply. "It's the "How do you know this?" make of your story. This is something to be decided by somebody infallible—like the Pope or the President or Board Chairman of Manhattan-Universal. But the first thing to do is get you out of here.

<question>:
What does Madison's selection in car choice after the flight tell about his physical character?

<options>:
A He is a debilitated man.
B He is a very tall man.
C He is an old man.
D He is a very muscular man.

<answer>:

B