Rick adjusted his glasses and spread his hands expansively. He was wearing a pair of deerskin carpal tunnel wraps on his sunburned forearms. "I can understand," he said, "intellectually speaking of course—why a woman would find Jerry attractive. I mean, he’s big and strong, and he’s a good-looking guy in his way, and he’s really smart. And he’s not mean, or dishonest. Ruthless , sure, but he’s not cruel. And he’s got, like, pretty serious outlaw sex appeal, because he’s the stud duck of this gang of weirdos who follow him around. Women tend to go for that kind of guy. So I can see why some woman would want to ride on the back of Jerry’s motorcycle and share his sleeping bag. But hell! Marry him? Have his kids? Try and put him behind a picket fence? What possible good could that do you? I mean, why even try?"