— Cravats, Cake, and a Steam Car Surprise Read down the page for why this pic is here! August 19 Yes indeed, today marks the 18th Gerrards Cross Classic Car Show—an event where everything is done prim and proper, old chap. I’ve got my cravat, my hamper, and my silver cutlery at the ready. Gerrards Cross, after all, is quite the well‑to‑do area, and this mid‑week gathering can easily attract a hundred high‑end classics if the weat

Preparation for Sunday’s show at Runnymede starts today, Thursday I’ll clean the wheels, blacken the tyres, freshen up the whitewall stripes with a little brake cleaner, then give the chrome rims a polish. The threat of rain is looming for the weekend. It could finally bring an end to this long and exhausting heatwave. As keen gardeners, my wife and I are thoroughly fed up with filling watering cans now that a hosepipe ban has been imposed. (Nudge, nudge... wink, wink.) The c

After a heavy night celebrating with friends, I woke up to the aftermath of the World Cup match between England and France. I had missed the end of the game, but victory was still ours, so I didn’t mind too much. However, the thought of getting up early for a morning car meet wasn’t high on my wish list. My car was filthy. We’re still in the middle of a heat wave here in the UK, and mine was covered in enough dirt and hot-blown dust to write “wash me” on the bonnet. It’s neve

Thought I'd take the car out tonight, purely as a public service, to add to the excitement ahead of the game. It's been stifling hot, the kind of heat where the tarmac looks like it's considering giving up entirely, and every flag in a three-mile radius is fluttering like it's personally invested in the result. As usual, the car gets its share of toots and waves. I'd love to say they're all for the car. They are not. They are for the enormous St George's cross flapping above

Citroen DS seen in St. Ives, Cornwall Always nice to unexpectedly spot something a little different when travelling. I spotted this Citroën DS out my window in St Ives Harbour today. This one, a 1971/72 I believe, was a favourite with some seagulls — one of which didn't like its own reflection in the chrome hubcap, noisily turning the look of it into a golf ball with its beak. I missed the owner while I dashed round to get a shot or two, so unfortunately no real details avail

This morning I took the Rover to a small breakfast meet, run by "The Petrol Heads". It's a short drive, about 8 miles to the Fox & Pheasant, a pub in Stoke Poges. It's a pub, not road kill, by the way. It's been a hot few days in London, today it's nearly 30 degrees (86F). All my windows are down and my feet vents give a cooling breeze as I drive. Something I've become accustomed to is all the tooting from other drivers. Very unnerving when I first got the car. But usually it

Some cars don't just turn heads — they open doors. Here's how a 1973 Rover P5B Coupe led to an afternoon outside Moor Park Golf Club.