Most men think they're the bee's knees behind the wheel of their car - until their insurance company decides it wants to know the true story. John Murray reports.
Most men bristle with indignation at even the slightest suggestion that their driving skills could be improved.
We presume our technique at the wheel is excellent and are full of self-admiration about how smoothly and expertly we weave our way through the traffic.
So, it came as a bit of a shock when two different insurers informed me that the Class 2 insurance cover I needed would be offered only if I successfully completed an Ignition course.
The women at the end of the phone politely explained that without three years unbroken no claims bonuses - I had lived in China for a time - I was too big a risk to handle until the insurer got some idea of my capabilities on an advanced driving course.
"But I have a full licence," I pleaded. "I passed my test over 10 years ago, and even had to undertake a test for the questionable privilege of driving in Beijing where traffic lights are seen as incidental street furniture."
To no avail.
So it was that I found myself in the CityWest Hotel on the outskirts of Dublin for the course. There were 12 participants, 10 men and two women, a gender balance that said it all about the driving risks represented by the sexes.
The all-day course was in two parts - theory in the morning, and driving in the afternoon. During the break I was reminded that, at 40, I was comfortably the oldest in the class. This had its compensations - my insurance quote was €824 if I passed.
For 24-year-old John, the lecturer, passing the course meant a premium of €2,400. For 18-year-old Michael from Maynooth, passing it meant a premium of €2,450.
Two other participants, one 25, the other 27, would see their premiums coming down from €3,000-plus to about €1,500 if they passed the Ignition test.
One of the two girls explained that, if she passed, her premium would be just over €1,000.
So, the financial stakes were high, and the attention given to tutor Chris O'Brien, an instructor with the Institute of Advanced Motoring, reflected a deep unease about the damage that day-dreaming might do to our pockets.
By midday and the end of the theory session, we had confessed to all sorts of sins such as amber gambling, encroaching on yellow boxes, speeding, tail-gating and dozens of other misdemeanours. We had solemnly undertaken to change our ways.
The afternoon gave us an opportunity to show our skills. Three of us were packed into a small Hyundai and asked to do three separate drives in the roads of Saggart, Tallaght, and Rathcoole, the M50 and the Naas dual carriageway.
Our instructor made eminent sense as he encouraged us to hang back a bit from the car in front. The "tyre and tarmac" formula he called it - if you can see both, you're probably at a safe enough distance.
There were irritations. Why did we have to watch a British training video which contained signs we don't use here? Was it necessary to tell a fellow participant that he might be better off holding the gear-lever in something other than a crab-like grip?
But it was thorough and professional. It reminded you of all the bad habits you get into, and of the pretty common impatience you display on the road.
At the end of the day, the three of us were given our marking sheets by the instructor. Mine were spread over two categories - five put me as a "relatively low risk driver" and three as "average risk".
There was nothing in the column marked "low risk" - the A grade of the driving examination.
When I rang the following day to get grade on the Ignition test, I was told I had passed.
There was no "merit" or no "distinction" - two categories that would have given me a discount on my insurance.
Indignant to the last, I asked who made the decisions. She - Ignition woman - said it was the instructor who had brought us around the roads of south-west Dublin. The previous day on the course itself, the instructor had said the insurance company, Hibernian, had its own marking system.
"Some drivers on the course you did got merits," she added, unhelpfully. My illusions about being an exemplary driver were well and truly shattered.
I wrote a cheque for €824, thrilled to contribute to the €127 million profit made by Hibernian Group in the first six months of 2004.
Despite my damaged ego, undertaking Ignition was indeed worthwhile. Our instructor told us he didn't have a radio in his car, and certainly wouldn't countenance a hands-free mobile set. He concentrates solely on driving when he's behind the wheel, he said, so much so that he often undertakes his own commentary on the driving negotiations that lie ahead of him.
He drilled home the idea that driving isn't a casual pursuit that you can undertake while involved in other activities such as making phone calls, chatting to people in the back-seat and changing CDs. And, most of all, we learnt it isn't vain to look in the mirror - rear and side - regularly.
Three weeks on, I'd be a liar if I said that I've adopted all the safe and sensible methods recommended on Ignition Day. But I've retained much of the sound advice - and am less likely to be seen driving inches from the car in front.
I can't help thinking that all drivers could do with a refresher course about once every five years. In return, our profit-making insurers could provide worthwhile discounts and provide those bruised male egos with at least a financial excuse to own up to their limitations as drivers.
John Murray presents the Business News on RTÉ Radio One.