I finally took the plunge and bought a skid lid, all ready for the new experience of riding pillion on Sam’s motorbike.

We started off by riding along the garden path, but he couldn’t really get enough speed up, and I was worried about my magnolia, so off we went along the road outside the house. I thought we must have hit at least 40 miles per hour at one point, but Sam assured me we were only doing 15. Hmm……Stevie thinks to herself …..whatever must it feel like at 70 miles an hour on the motorway?

It was a tad breezy, but not altogether unpleasant. The next evening I was brave enough to do a whole circuit of the village (about 2 miles). This time he achieved the dizzy heights of 25 miles an hour. There seemed to be a force 8 gale blowing on my chin (I didn’t fancy the full-face helmet), but I sat still (as instructed by my son) and perfected a little hip movement when we went around the corners.

On the third evening we were really rocking – getting up to 30 miles an hour on the straight bit into the village.

This biking malarkey has told me several things:
1. I wish I had bought a full face helmet.
2. After a meal was not the best time to ride pillion.
3. Nothing on this earth would persuade me to ride above 30 miles per hour.
4. Sam looks rather fetching in his biker’s jacket.

My son has turned up on his bike tonight. They’ve taken the doobreys out of their exhausts, and we’ve turned into the neighbours from hell.