I have a rather ambivalent relationship to automobiles. My dad was a shade tree mechanic par excellence. I doubt there was anything he couldn’t fix short of straightening a bent frame (though I bet he could have figured out how to do that, too) before cars became half computer.
I, on the other hand, could not have cared less about the machinery of…well, anything. The mechanic’s gene or whatever it is missed me. Dad would haul me out to the garage regularly to help him do a repair and my overwhelming sense was one of “LET ME OUT OF HERE!” …