My dad was a mid-level Bank Manager.
His dad was a winter dock worker.
I never got to meet my grandfather, but apparently I inherited his knack for being resourceful, and handy with a set of tools. My dad, love him, but the man wouldn't pick up a screwdriver unless he had no other option in life.
I learned how to wrench on cars from my neighbors.
I had one who lived next door, and was always working on his Mazda 323, and his wife's Cougar XR-7. Neighbor across the street was always working on a Buick Electra 225, an AMC Eagle 4x4, and his wife's Caddie 2 door Fleetwood. They were always very nice to me, even if I was a pesky little guy, but after a while, they started enjoying having the younger hands getting into tight spots, or crawling under the cars, saving their bodies whenever they could.
Started translating my car maintenance skills that my neighbors were teaching me with being able to work on motorcycles owned by kids in the neighborhood. Eventually got my own first car, and it was so much easier working on my own car than taking it to my parent's (not very good) mechanic. Anything I couldn't do, I then took to him, and watched very carefully as he performed the repair, and typically could ask a few questions of what he did to diagnose the issue, and how he determined what was the best way to resolve the issues.
Eventually my skills improved to the point I went to college for an AS degree in Auto Technologies and Science. Analytics was my strong point. Troubleshooting, wiring diagrams, study, study, study. I couldn't read enough about repair procedures.
Eventually life changed directions, and I found myself working in a business field that uses the analytical side of my brain, and I make a comfortable salary not having to abuse the body. But, I still have bikes and cars to work on, though they typically don't need much other than the normal maintenance, which is the best way to run a small fleet of vehicles, anyway.
BC.