Normally, I’m not that much of a princess.
I don’t need a glittering crown.
I don’t need my own castle.
But I will stamp my foot, and demand one must-have royal accessory…
The right motorcycle passenger seat.
The easy way, and the hard way.
The hard way makes you feel like a frustrated three-year-old, seconds away from a spectacular public tantrum.
You try on a dozen female motorcycle helmets while the salesman grins, and offers useless advice. All the helmets seem the same.
And after trying on so many, now you look like you slept on a park bench.
So have you.
It always starts the same way.
Oooh, motorcycles are so scary!
They’re death machines!
You’d never catch me getting on a bike!
Well, then, don’t! I want to say.
When you open that garage door, it’s a bit like entering the Bat Cave.
Only no-one’s wearing a cape.
Pat’s motorbike garage is only metres from the house, but it’s a whole different world out there…