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The kid across the street taught me to read when I was three. I do not remember this. I have been able to read, and enjoyed doing so, for as long as I can remember.
My earliest reading-related memory involved asking my Mom how to pronounce one of the words in a Dick and Jane book. My Mom, who I recall was working at the sewing machine, said the word was 'laugh'. I objected rather assertively that this could not be correct because the word printed in the book did not include the letter 'f'.
Reading definitely wasn't an act of rebellion for me. Escapism, possibly. I had six brothers and sisters, and the house became rather chaotic at times.
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