Three of us squeezed onto the tiny motorbike to tour the Outer Hebrides. BC was our driver, TPR sat at the back, and I was squeezed between the two of them.
BC had no experience of winding single track roads. Even though I warned her of every upcoming bend, I knew that it would not be long before we came off the road.
Inevitably we fell on a bend at the brow of a hill. It was a soft landing in the heather at the road side, and no other vehicles were in sight at the time. This was just as well because none of us were wearing protective motorcycle headgear at the time (although later we ‘borrowed’ some cycle helmets).
There were two other problems with this holiday. First, the guest house was no longer offering dinner in the evenings. Second, TPR grew a moustache and wore his hair dark again – a sure sign to me that he was having a affair with BC.