What's the proper attire to be on two tyres?

I HAVE never been fashion conscious, so what should I wear on the bike? Is it OK to go lightweight sometimes, or must I wear the body armour? And why aren't there more bike-parking places in town?

But first, ah, the joys of being ripped off by car hire firms on foreign holidays. I won't name the firm but they always try the trick of "would you like the extra insurance?" when I use them. However, this time they charged me extra for a one-way trip! What? A Europe-wide company and they charge me extra because I pick up a car in Lisbon and drop it off in Faro?

Anyway, the big Triumph Tiger sat back in Glasgow as we went abroad for our holidays, and whereas I try my best to dress in impact protection top and bottoms and solid boots, it's pretty obvious that our continental colleagues do not.

In fact, as we walked through Tours in France, the first leg of the holiday, the best-dressed bikers were, you guessed it, Scottish. Yup, I turned around a corner to see many bikers and they were all talking in this strange language – Scots.

All over Portugal, our second stop, men and women were riding on motorcycles in 30C heat dressed in shorts, T-shirts, boots of some kind, and a helmet.

This even applied on motorways, in convoy, at 80mph, which scared me. I know that if they fell from the bikes this would have the effect I used to see on holiday in Corfu – where skin had been ripped from flesh – but they seem happy enough.

In fact, there seems to be a different culture abroad. We dress defensively, ride sensibly and try to find dry spells between the rain, while they dress flamboyantly and with minimal protection in an effort to cool down as they romp along dry roads.

But it has been good to be back on the bike. Fred MacAulay texted me to say that he has passed his bike test, which is good news, as we can now romp around the southside of Glasgow to our hearts' content and I suspect that you might now see him arrive at work on something very expensive. Comedy pays better than sport.

The first time back in the saddle was on a hot day, so I tried the lightweight boots, jeans and a thin leather jacket. Was I mad? It felt good but as I was careering along Great Western Road I felt freer, fresher, cooler, but I have to admit I felt a bit more vulnerable as well.

The bike, to be fair, hadn't changed. One press of the ignition switch and that strange three-cylinder syncopation started at first asking. The power is so addictive as the throttle is opened and a beautiful little ride out to Blanefield was perfect for settling back on two wheels. I think I say it every time, but if we all travelled safely on two wheels what a place the world would be.

With 2,000 miles on the clock, my problems haven't changed though. The wet isn't fun and parking on hillsides leaves the bike pitching wildly to the left. I am getting more confident leaning the thing to left and right, and the more I ride the more and more steering appears to be about leaning rather than turning the handle bars, or perhaps that's just what it feels like.

Keeping my head level as I lean and steer is fun too.

Some problems seem to have gone , making the bike easier to live with. I am now more logical when it comes to putting on clothes to go for a run, which makes it a much quicker process, although glasses seem to interrupt the logic. I no longer "nearly" drop the bike during inattentive moments, such as when I think I have already put the side stand down and then lean the bike to the left only to have to heave at the last moment when I realise there has been a mistake.

But I want to get close to my imaginary best friends, Ewan and Charlie, and ride this thing across continents, firing Kalashnikovs in the air, eating sheep's testicles and skirting around bears.

I think this is possible in the West End of Glasgow, and, as always, only if properly dressed. I think Fred and I could do this.