Ask a hundred drivers whether they are better than average, and around eighty will say yes. This is not possible. By definition, only fifty per cent can be above average. Roughly half of the people who answered confidently and correctly are wrong. They know what average means. They still believe it does not apply to them.
This is one of the most replicated findings in social psychology. The study that established it was conducted in the 1970s by Ola Svenson, who surveyed American and Swedish drivers about their relative skill and safety. The numbers were consistent: most people, across two countries with quite different driving cultures, rated themselves as above average. Subsequent replications have found the same pattern so reliably that it has become a standard demonstration of what is now called "illusory superiority" - or, less generously, the Lake Wobegon effect, after Garrison Keillor's fictional town where all the children are above average.
The cognitive mechanism is fairly well understood. When people evaluate their own driving, they naturally call to mind the things they do well. They remember the smooth merge, the sensible gap they left, the time they spotted the cyclist that someone else would have missed. What they do not naturally call to mind is the near-miss three years ago, the amber light they pushed, the times they were more tired than they should have been. Memory is not a neutral record. It is curated by a self that has reasons to present itself positively.
There is also a definition problem. People assess driving skill using their own criteria, which tend to weight the things they happen to be good at. Someone who prides themselves on smooth gear changes will rate this heavily. Someone who values spatial awareness will weight that. Since no one is equally good at everything, and people choose their own metrics, nearly everyone can find a definition under which they are above average.
What makes driving an especially potent arena for this is the combination of personal control and genuine stakes. We are not casually overconfident about our ability to juggle. We are overconfident about something that feels important, that we do every day, and that we have direct feedback on - or think we do. The feedback loop on driving is actually quite poor. Minor errors rarely produce visible consequences. The car in front brakes slightly harder than necessary - but nothing happened, so it registers as fine. Fine, repeated often enough, becomes evidence of skill.
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