They say you'll marry someone who reminds you of your parent of the same sex...
My father and my husband have to be the world's two worst back-seat drivers.
When I was learning to drive, my dad would take me out driving. He'd yell at me if I did 56 in a 55 zone. His favorite criticism was that I didn't stop long enough at stop signs. "Come to a full stop, and spell out the word S-T-O-P before you go." "Uh, Dad, the guy behind us is leaning on his horn and giving us the finger, can I
please go now??" And heaven help me if I went through a yellow light, even if it turned yellow just as I was passing underneath.

(When he drives, if a light turns yellow, he slams on his brakes even if it's clear that he and the three cars behind him could make it through.)
My husband is the opposite type of back-seat driver. "You're not going fast enough! You should be doing at least 80!" "Honey, it's a 55. I'm doing 70." "Well, everyone's passing you, and -- wait! COP! COP! SLOW DOWN!"
Once I finally developed a lead foot, he started telling me that I drive too fast.