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Thought I post this. Made me chuckle. It’s a from me mum about a time when she rode pillion with my dad. This was back in the late fifties. I think the bike was an Ariel Square Four.
“We decided to go and have a drink in the local pub. The snag was the short cut was across the airfield and it was very dark and creepy. Going there was fine, I hung on tight, with my arms around his waist and we arrived at the pub safe and sound. We had our drinks and played a game of darts and then it was kicking out time. We got outside and Dad got on the bike, I got on the back and put my feet down on the road while I arranged my clothes so that I would be comfortable. Well Dad wasn’t really used to having me on the back and he shot off up the road, leaving me standing, looking and feeling like a miniskirted lemon. When he got to the edge of the airfield, he suddenly realised he hadn’t got his passenger and he had to come back and find me. I have never forgotten it and I made sure he didn’t either. (I haven’t been on a bike since).”
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