My first experience I don't even remember. Apparently when I was in the crib I took it apart in order to get out. When I was a wee kid, I helped my dad with repairing his old motorcycle. When I got old enough to drive the only vehicle I could afford was an old beat up Ford F100. When I got it it was in bad shape, and being only 16 I had no major source of income, so I had to repair it myself. I did the top end with no help(and thought I was being slick by tightening the heads down with the push rods in place... you can guess what happened the first time I started it up). Then I started reading the manuals, and learned more about how I was supposed to do it. I just kept tinkering around with everything that broke on it(It was a Ford, so I had plenty of things to fix). In order to be cool I had to have a better driving truck, so I kept making improvements, and then more improvements, until the day I forgot to set the brake next to a cliff(it didn't roll when i got out of it, but when I came back there was only a set of tire tracks that led to the cliff edge and a crumpled mass of steel at the bottom of the cliff). That was a LONG walk home. Well being the kind of guy I was I bought another junker, and fixed it up to the point of being able to drive it, and just kept going from there.