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

<passage>:
Solomon's Orbit There will, sooner or later, be problems of "space junk," and the right to dump in space. But not like this...! by William Carroll North America. From here we the three accounted for. What of quick departure. Some dozen civilians muddied shoes and trousers circling the junk yard, taking stations so they could watch all approaches. Once they were in machine. Comrades ... it is going to—Ah ... the picture is meteor—it is square. The accursed Americans have sent up a house. Comrades ... an ancient automobile vehicle was knocked from the sky by a capitalistic plot. Motion pictures ordered to seek other strange orbiting devices reported: "We've observed cars for weeks. Have been "Why you bother me so early? You know I only buy cars from owners." proves ancient automobiles are orbiting the world, Americans are caught in obvious attempt to ridicule our efforts to probe mysteries The questions were odd: Do you American scientific study of the have explosives here? Can you weld busy 200-inch telescope was photographing a strange new object, but plates returned from the To these, and bewildering others, Solomon told the truth. He had no explosives, couldn't weld, didn't led the three men into his yard. Once inside, and without asking permission, they began searching like a hungry hound trailing "What they want?" he wondered. He'd broken no laws in all the years he'd been in the United States. "For what do they bother a wrecking yard?" he asked himself. His depressing thoughts were rudely shattered by a hail from the greatest minds. The military denied responsibility for cars older than 1942. Civil aviation proved they larger civilian, standing at the vehicles. Central Intelligence swore on their classification manual they were not dropping junk over Cuba in an attempt to hit Castro. Disgusted, left their curious searching to follow cars which, from the tracks, have been moved out in the past few hoping at last he'd a customer for the best of his old cars. "They make classic cars, if you'd take the time to fix them up. That one, the Hupmobile, is the last—" something rising from earth's surface he'd broken. Wasn't the air free, like the seas? People dumped things into the ocean. "Then where did they go?" "I needed the space. They were too good to cut up. No one would buy them. So I sent them up. The newspapers—" quavered Solomon. So this is what cars? And his business? it, and left grumbling about being left out of what must be something big. Seven manifolds. A logical way to make had laid four lines over an engine that would run on pressure, read about in newspapers. It worked on a cracked engine block, so he'd used scrap manifolds to get rid of old cars no one would buy. It hadn't hurt anything, had it? like satellite engines he'd clean denims and his razor. Then without a bye-your-leave, hustled fence of Solomon's yard, so they'll cause no attention while protecting what Solomon happily agreed was the finest junk in all California. his property. A rugged individual Fords on the left, Chevys on the right, and across the sagging back back door opened on two acres of to take a trip in a hurry." Because he knows nothing of the business, and sellers alike, that he is Solomon's to a stratospheric decompression test chamber. They figure if they can throw it into the sky, they can move anything up to what astronomers broken by spraying gravel signaling arrival of a customer's car. circling the earth. As you know, us kids good deals on hot-rod parts. You've just gotta take a look at his old cars, 'cause if you want didn't tell many people about the is somehow related to kitchen matches a newspaper reporter found scattered behind a station wagon in Solomon's junk yard. Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from through leading the boy and his father a chase that was more a by two rows of hulks, proud in the silent agony of their fate. Sold, resold and sold again, used until No matter what beauties they were to Solomon's prejudiced eyes missing fenders, rusted body panels, broken wheels and rotted woodwork bespoke the utter impossibility of restoration. echoed by those of a crestfallen boy. Solomon, a figure of lonely dejection unloved old cars, was troubled with smog causing his eyes to water as tired feet aimlessly found their way That night, to take his mind off worrisome old cars, Solomon began reading the previous Sunday's newspaper. There were pictures of which started Solomon to thinking called an ion engine, which creates seems like a lot of equipment. Could do it easier with one of my old engines, I bet." As Solomon told the people in was brought to life by Solomon lumbered carefully down rows of cars to an almost completely stripped wreck holding only a broken engine. In a few minutes, to a clear space near the center of his yard. Once the broken engine was blocked upright on the ground, dirt to work. First, the intake manifold came off and was bolted to the clutch housing so the carburetor each other, it'll go up in my face." Scanning the yard he thought of fenders, doors, wheels, hub caps and ... that was it. A hub cap would do the trick. the cap, through which he tied a laid on the carburetor flange and with his heavy boots to make sure they were solid and grunted with satisfaction of a job well done. He moved his tray of tools away two with happy thoughts. If his idea worked, he would be free of the old cars, yet not destroy a single one. Squatting behind the station kid with chicken pox, as dozens cord. Tired legs failed and Solomon slipped backward when the hub cap broke free of the tape and sailed through the air to clang against the wagon's fender. Lying on his of spotty yellow windows marked whirlwind had come through the yard. The scent of air-borne dust bit his nostrils as he struggled to his feet. "Look, there goes one," the Heart heavy with belief in the off the fender. It was untied from the string, and in the tool tray, before Solomon realized he'd not area, were two old manifold gaskets, several rusty nuts, and dirt blown smooth in a wide circle around greasy blocks on which he'd propped the now missing engine. That night was a whirlwind of classic cars were gone, he could use the space for more profitable Fords and Chevys. All he'd have to do would be bolt manifolds from spare engines on a different car every night, and he'd be rid of it. All he manifold, drawing pressure from to. Solomon couldn't help but think, "The newspapers said scientists were losing rockets and space capsules, so a few old cars could get lost in the clouds without hurting anything." Early the next morning, he towed the oldest hulk, an Essex, to the cleared space. Manifolds from junk engines were bolted to the wheels but this time carburetor flanges were covered by wooden shingles because Solomon figured he couldn't afford to ruin four salable hub caps just to get rid of his old sedans. Each shingle was taped in place so they could be pulled matches helped collect the shingle cords as he crouched behind the in one calloused hand, a burning rusty manifold assemblies. Day after day, only a mile from Fullerton, Solomon busied himself buying wrecked cars and selling usable parts. Each weekday night—Solomon smoked innumerable cigarettes and cursed luck ruining the evening, pulled the shingles and watched its massive hulk rise and disappear you'd have worried. The full circle was hidden in a curious farmer's Seven row of a used car lot. meat-packing plant, but the night watchman wouldn't allow them to junk yard and a small frame house. Dogs stirred, yapping at sudden activity they alone knew of, then

<question>:
What is a theme of the story?

<options>:
A The best inventions are made by accident.
B There is great value in ordinary things and people.
C Some things are not salvageable.
D Junk is difficult to get rid of.

<answer>:

B