DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR GIVE US ALL A BUM STEER

EVERYONE thinks they’re good dancers, terrific lovers and excellent drivers. But they can’t all be right, can they?

Mathematicians tell us some people have to be average in order for others to be above average, but studies show most people think the ordinary ones must be someone else.

Psychologists even have a name for this: illusory superiority. The rest of us call it Figjam: F--k I’m good, just ask me.

We all know people like that. A guy may spill his date’s drink, tread on her toes and knock her out with his signature spin-twirl combo and yet he thinks he’s a smoother mover than John Travolta.

It’s the same in the sack. A guy might be selfish and boring, but in his mind he’s the greatest lover since Casanova because he once got 15 right-swipes on a Tinder profile with a photo taken 15 years ago.

It’s even worse when it comes to driving. A woman might have just spent half an hour on the freeway doing 30km under the speed limit with her left indicator on, but in her mind she’s racing legend Peter Brock.

This week we heard about an Adelaide University study that asked people to rate their own skills behind the wheel. Researchers found people tend to overestimate their abilities, rating themselves as an 8, 9 or 10 out of 10.

The findings are reflected in international research, with a Californian study finding two-thirds of people think they’re “very good drivers”. Dads are the most confident, with 88 per cent saying they’re great drivers but only 51 per cent gave their wives the same rating. Only two per cent rate themselves as “bad” drivers.

More than 50 years ago researchers in one famous study questioned people who ended up in hospital after they had a road accident. Most had hit fixed objects hard enough to flip their cars yet they still rated themselves as above average drivers.

Funnily enough, when kids are asked to rate their parents’ driving, a very different picture emerges. One study asked parents if they could teach their kids to drive without any additional instruction or guidance or lessons and most said yes. But their kids didn’t agree.

I get it. I am 48 so haven’t taken a driving test for more than 30 years.

I’ve always been a little suspicious of my right to be on the road, mainly because my P-plate test was a joke.

I passed, but shouldn’t have. I followed my friend’s advice and booked the last test on Friday afternoon because she told me all the instructors go easy as they want to get to the pub.

I also made sure I had a male instructor – I was certain it would help at some point. Towards the end of the test, he told me to drive back to the depot as I’d failed. Apparently, I hadn’t come to a complete stop at a stop sign. It’s an auto fail.

So I did what any smart person would have done. I started crying.

“What will my friends say? They’ll all pay me out and make fun of me,” I told him, sniffing as prettily as I could. True story. This non-feminist blonde moment had the desired effect.

Thirty years of driving followed, marked by only the odd scrape and one very minor prang three weeks after I “passed” the test.

Am I a good driver? Ask me and I’ll say yes. Ask my kids and they’ll give you a more honest answer.

Evidence of this same strong sense of selfconfidence is all around us.

These days, everyone seems to be confident, positive and self-assured – just ask them, they’ll tell you.

Who am I to question that? Over-confidence put humans on the moon, mastered flight and produced the theories of quantum mechanics. But it also created Hitler, Young Liberals, apartheid and socks that go missing in the washing machine.

And it also created drivers who think they’ve got top skills, regardless of the fact that they’re driving along the St Kilda bike path wondering where all the cars have gone.