I learn how the things I own work one piece at a time as the workings of those pieces (the fan, the battery, a program, its appearance) develop problems or get boring or otherwise become relevant to me. I don't care much how an object works if it is suiting me fine as it is, but once that stops being true, I can actually get pretty cavalier about taking risks in the name of directness as I go and mess with it until satisfied. I'm overconfident about my ability to feel my way through a system and troubleshoot it in the moment while it is open and exposed, and enjoy the adrenaline. Obviously, I've broken things this way, but usually considered the adventure worth it. The process might go like this:
I've bought a new computer, and I do not know anything but the basics of how it works until...
Oh, no. We have a problem with the fan! ASAP, I will look up information on it and deal with the problem. Now I know how the fan works, though no more of the computer's mechanics until...
...the battery has lost all of its charge suddenly.

In the process of fixing it, I open up the computer to clean something, but something goes wrong and truly bricks the battery. I buy a new one, accepting the price as money I chose to gamble. Now I know how the battery works, though! Later, when I've finally settled down with this junky computer...
...I'm bored with the home screen, so I'll go in and theme it, learning how with guidance as needed as I go. It might take all night until it's perfect...
In the end, how much I know about something I own usually depends on how long I've had it and my relationship with its foibles. This eventually adds up to a lot even though the machine wasn't inherently interesting to begin with.