I don't want to re-hash what has already been said by others, probably better than me. 

Memories of my Dad from my childhood:- 

I can remember one of our houses when I was a kid, I think it was Farnborough but we moved around a lot so can't be sure; it had a tree in the back garden in which Dad built a Tree House and a Zip wire from the Tree House to the other end of the garden. 

To me, at the time, that was the most awesome thing a kid could play in and I loved that Zip wire. Basically, down to Dad's ingenuity and DIY skills, we had mini Go Ape outdoor adventure park in the back garden.

When I was at Stamford School I joined the Air Cadets and for a while thought I might try and follow Dad into the Air Force as Air Crew, something I decided not to do because I wasn't sure I fancied the mortality rate of RAF Air Crew. 

This is something which I don't think many people realise or appreciate just how dangerous that job was, and indeed still is, even in peace time. A quick look at Wikipedia shows that in the years Dad was in the RAF, around 400 people died in accidents or incidents involving RAF Aircraft. Not all of these were Air Crew, but the vast majority were and I think that shows the kind of mind set and sense of Duty you have to have to undertake such a career.

Dad had a passion for cars, motorbikes and speed. If it had an engine and preferably wasn't quite "Mainstream" he loved it. I can remember being on the back of his BMW holding on for dear life. The many, many cars over the years including CPD900 or "Mrs Frequently" in particular, the Scimitar GTE, the MGB and the car I learnt to drive in, a Mini.

My first ever lesson with Dad went something like this, I am not even sure if my provisional licence had actually arrived yet. We got in the Mini, Dad driving, and went to an old Airfield or bit of wasteland. Once there, in the driving seat I got and under his tuition drive around for a bit. After about an hour he decided I'd got the basics and told me to drive home. 

Now considering my chosen career this might not be a wise thing to admit to, but off I went on public roads and he just sat there quietly observing, quite happy to give me the freedom to mess it up but at the same time instilling in me the confidence that I had it under control.  
I suspect that there will be many things that will trigger memories in the future, given that I have "inherited" many of the things that interested him.

The smell of an old car, the petrol and hot oil. 

Driving with the hood down. 

Writing with a proper fountain pen. 

Winding up an old chronograph watch. 

Shooting a 12 gauge shotgun and the smell of burnt gunpowder.

Standing in the rain cooking on a BBQ when anyone with any sense would be using a grill inside instead.

However, as I grew older the one thing I wished I'd inherited more than any of this……the genes that would have kept me a full head of hair!