When I was smaller, about 10 years old or so, I really wanted a kayak. I thought it would be cool to have adventures and explore up streams and in mangrove swamps. Instead, I got an eight-foot sailing dinghy and learned how to get where I wanted to go by less direct methods.
My father restored the dinghy from a wreck we found in the back yard when we moved into a new house in Auckland. I say restored, but I think he ended up replacing every piece of timber except one in the thing. He then demonstrated an uncommunicative, stereotypically male sort of love, and flatly ignored my request that it be painted green, opting instead for a colour labelled "Rescue Orange". The boat has long since been grown out of and sold on, and I've only just come to appreciate that.