Sorta related, but funny:
Back in 2001 when I bought our first boat, I decided that I am NOT gonna play that game where the family just sits in the boat while Dad backs it into the water, then gets outta the truck, climbs in the boat, backs it off the trailer, ties up to the dock, and then walks back to get the truck and trailer off the ramp.
So I gave Mama-Bear the choice, she can either run the truck or the boat. She chose boat. For the most part she did 'okay'. Getting off the trailer and picking me up is easy, but getting back on the trailer was not. If we put in on a River with a current, then all bets were off.
If she would have just listened to my direction, there would have been no issues, but she is a very strong-willed woman who chafes at me telling her anything. One day, with a particularity swift current, she was having no end of problems and was getting steamed at me "screaming at her" (I was not). She yelled at me to just shut up and she would be OK.
Fine. I leaned back on the tailgate of the truck, adopted my #1 attitude of smug, and let her do it herself. 10 of the longest minutes of my life later, (at the ragged edge of her temper) she finally chops the throttle and yelled at me. "All right Mr. Smarty-Pants... What am I doing wrong?" I replied, very calmly that "Dear, the first rule is the pointy end of the boat goes on first". She had the poor old bayliner sitting dead sideways across the trailer, and actually hung up on the fenders.
I was not aware that my sweet, loving wife was capable of generating that long a stream of high-grade profanity in public.