My Dad had no interest in guns, but neither did he have anything against them. The father of a friend first taught me to shoot a .22 rifle when I was ten or eleven. A few years later, I spent a week at another friend's cabin. We spent most of our days roaming the woods with a .22, taking turns shooting anything that moved.
A few times over the years, I got invited to go bird hunting, under the supervision of a parent until I was older, and always with a borrowed shotgun. I always enjoyed hunting, but had other interests (motorcycles, auto racing) that took priority.
The first handguns I shot belonged to a friend. He had inherited a 1911 and a BHP from his grandfather. I liked them both, but any money I might have spent on guns went first to motorcycles, tires, chains and touring gear.
A BIL had a Model 29 and a 1911, both of which I shot a bit. I got a little bit of a bug for a 1911, but once again, motorcycles used up all my discretionary income.
Finally I acquired some guns of my own when a friend decided that his CZs deserved to be in the hands of somebody who was already keen on the CZ bikes. Or maybe he just wanted to clear his deck so he could buy some Smiths. Either way, the price was right.