MAY 3, 2010 – 12:00AM

All modesty aside, I’m an awesome driver.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking you’re an awesome driver. In fact, I’ll bet you think you’re a better driver than I.

But you’re mistaken.

I was reminded just the other day how awesome when my wife dropped me and the kids off at school. Her car was in the shop, so she had to drive my clunker — a big, manual-shift SUV. The drive was only a couple of miles, but I was climbing the walls as she rode the clutch, took it out of gear, put it back in gear, rode the clutch some more, took it out of gear … you get the idea.

It drove me crazy, and it convinced me that I’m by far the best driver in our family. Heck, she’s so bad, my wife might not even be No. 2 — and she’s the only other driver in the family.

Before I dig myself an early matrimonial grave (love ya, honey!), I should admit that, aside from riding the clutch a bit much, there was nothing wrong with the way my wife drove. She’s a perfectly fine driver, by any definition. She didn’t hit anything she shouldn’t, didn’t drive over anyone, endangered nothing (except maybe the clutch pedal; just kidding, darling!). She didn’t squeal the tires or induce a rollover.

But my perception of her driving ability took a hit because she didn’t drive (or, specifically, shift) like I would have.

And if you asked her, she’d tell you she’s a good driver.

Heck, if you asked ANYBODY, he or she would say the same thing, hence my tongue-in-cheek declaration at the top of the blog.

I’ve heard teenage girls complaining about how many accidents they’ve been unfortunate enough to have been involved in, old men grousing about people and cars that keep getting in their way. I’ve heard folks kvetch about scraping light poles and mailboxes and driving into garage doors, and yet I’ve never heard a soul admit to being a bad driver.

But all the time I’ll be behind the wheel and think that yo-yo up ahead is an awful motor-vehicle operator for various affronts, ranging from transgressions as minor as my lovely wife’s (you’re the best, babe!) to boneheaded maneuvers to downright dangerous decisions.

All that pondering about “bad drivers” made me think about bad cyclists.

I’ve known folks who could barely stay on the trail, who weave in and out of lanes, ignore traffic laws, infuriate drivers and all but leave a trail of accidents and ill will in their wake. I know guys who spend more time on the tarmac than the saddle.

And though I’ve heard a few people joke about how bad their bike-handling skills might be, or how awful they are at track-standing, say, or clearing this particular trail obstacle or mastering that esoteric road skill, I’ve never heard anyone describe him/herself as a bad cyclist.

Some of it, of course, is Darwinism.

Bad cyclists, by definition, won’t get very far. Literally. They fall over. Or get crushed.

But, again, it’s an eye-of-the-beholder thing.

I consider myself a good cyclist, even if my bike-handling skills are average at best. I straddle the difficult line of being easy enough to spot to stay safe, yet at the same time blending into traffic enough I don’t stand out. I don’t split lanes, and I follow the rules of the road (the good ones, at least). I’m considerate.

So, yeah, I’m an awesome cyclist, too, though there’s no telling how my fellow road-users perceive me. Heck, to them I might be an unconscionable jerk on two wheels.

At least I’ll always have my awesome driving skills to fall back on.

Note: In case you missed it, May is National Bike Month (it’s also Borderline Personality Disorder Month, Go Fetch! Food Drive for Homeless Animals Month, National Egg Month and Sweet Vidalia Onions Month, but I digress).

And May 21 is National Bike to Work Day.

To mark the occasion, the World Company plans to have some sort of meet-up that morning somewhere downtown for bike commuters. The plan calls for coffee and doughnuts, or something similar, for cyclists.

As you can see, details aren’t settled, but keep checking this space. I’ll keep you posted.