When I was little, my dad would take me out to fix the cars with him. One of my earliest and keenest memories is of wind from an Arctic front blistering our hands as we worked on the suburban. No lie: I hated it. But I also learned my way around a vehicle and, whether I wanted to or no, I picked up a useful skill set and knowledge that has helped me more times than I care to count.
Fixing the fuel pump is not fun, but it's not a panic, and it's certainly not hard. So while I would rather be on holiday, right now I am enjoying the confidence and self-esteem that comes from being my father's daughter, a car girl who knows her way around her vehicle.