When your non-flying family uses "roger," "standby," "disregard," and "say again."
After flying Pipers and old 182s, you step into a rental car with a center console gear shift, and have to stop yourself from "flaps 20" when turning final for the driveway.
The first thing you do when you step outside is look out then look up to check the visibility and ceiling, then the intersections (intersecting contrails).
And the second thing you do is verify visual separation with the traffic, overhead, a Cessna 172, eastbound, 5500', no factor.
You actually refuse a non-job-related flight because you don't feel like it.
You sit in a car to drive for the first time in a week and the sight picture is all messed up. You instinctively check the gear lever to make sure it's down.
You had a last minute change of aircraft and go through the entire flight calling it the wrong N-number. It takes the tower controller 5 traffic patterns to realize the voices match the N-Number, but the paint job does not. Tower: "Uh, NXXXXX, that doesn't look like NXXXXX." And both you and the other pilot glance then stare at the N-Number placard, "what?!?"
Your cell phone has a PTT (Nextel) and it takes several minutes of conversation before both of you realize you've been using your call signs the entire time.
(And for the newly minted flight instructors, the dog can teach the private pilot syllabus but needs extra practice on the stall series. The cat mastered spins but has difficulties with water landing techniques.)
Fly SAFE!
Jedi Nein