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If you are anything like me, you probably have some memories of your father that are very similar to mine. As a small boy, I remember "helping" my dad fix his cars by retrieving tools for him as he was either draped over the engine or flat on his back under the car. I had no idea what many of them were, of course, but what amazed me was how he knew the difference without looking at it. A typical conversation, repeated in some form or another a hundred times: Him: "I need a 5/8ths open end wrench (spanner)." Me: "OK!" I look in the tool box and grab what I think is right, and hand it to him. Him, without looking at it and by feel alone: "Nope, that's a 9/16ths - try again." I remember how hard my father used to work to keep a roof over our heads, how tired he was when he came home, and how he still had time to talk to and play with us. It didn't mean much to me then, but I respect it now. I remember a bad winter in South Dakota, where there was nearly a meter of wet snow on the pitched roof, which could have caused it to collapse, and he went up on the ten meter high roof to clear it - not long after, the family watched from the sitting room window as he slid off the roof and fell into the meter of wet snow on the ground, and was then buried under all the snow on the roof. (Winded but OK - how we laughed.) I remember how he constantly had a pipe on the go, so much so that walking through the house on occasion became an exercise in touch navigation and holding your breath. I remember his belly laughs, his love of country music, and his fondness for a tiny bit of Jack Daniels when my mother wasn't looking, which he kept in his tool kit in the garage. I remember giving him my Mustang when I left America in 1987, and seeing the look on his face when he drove it, like a teenager all over again - and the frustration that he could never get the radio pre-sets to stay on his beloved country channels, as the next time he started the car, they would all revert to my rock stations (good car, that). I remember learning how he rescued my mother from a terrible life when he was just 16, and how he spent decades bringing up five kids, a menagerie of loony pets, and sacrificing his own dreams when my mother became seriously ill at age 30, devoting the next four decades to looking after her. I remember him, despite his faults, as a simple, kind, stubborn, opinionated, hard-working, and thoughtful man. Most of all, I remember how devoted and in love he was with my mother, married 53 happy years, and how lost he was in 2005 when she died. I thought he would die as well within six months, so bereft was he, but I stayed on top of him, Skyping him every day and doing what I could to support him from a distance, my siblings who lived reasonably close doing what they could as well. He pulled through and after a while was reasonably content on his own, but he was never again complete. Even though he fought a running battle fighting bladder cancer for years, he refused to give up his pipe and his Jack Daniels - but always had his wife at his side in spirit. Well, they're back together now - he left us to re-join her late Tuesday night, and I know that they're together again, both pain-free and happy. Thanks for the memories, Dad. Thanks for everything.

Is taht the new Koenigsegg?

Now that summer's here (?) I have a Mocal 13 row x 235mm oil cooler with aluminium brackets & small channel section supports which will bolt directly onto the front of a VW Polo radiator. The supports & brackets could be adapted to suit other radiator types. The brackets are perforated to help maintain cooling air into the radiator. I also include 2 x elbows ( -12 JIC to 3/4" oil pipe ) plus a MocaL OT/2 thermostat for 3/4" oil pipe. The elbows were fitted at the base of the oil cooler to take the flow and return under radiator, then back to the thermostat and engine. No oil pipes/jubilee clips included. This item is also on ebay (but no bids yet) Will sell for £35 including p+p. Rory's Dad