Like most men, I have always been convinced I am a driver of the highest calibre. Well, now I have learned I am not – and that's official.

I know this because I failed the Occupational Advanced Driving Test, introduced by the Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents to reduce deaths involving people driving on business. RoSPA launched the test because the statistics surrounding work-related road accidents are scary. Driving 25,000 miles a year for business carries as much risk of a fatality as mining or quarrying. Three to four times as many people die while driving for work as in the workplace itself and they account for 25-33 per cent of all road deaths. Moreover, drivers in company cars have proportionally more accidents than those in private vehicles.

The vulnerability of business drivers is not just a result of their high mileage, according to Bob Smalley, the chief examiner of RoSPA. ‘People driving for work are very focused on what they are going to do when they arrive at their destination, their schedules and other pressures,’ he says. ‘If leisure drivers don’t get where they need to be, it doesn’t normally cause so much distress.’

According to Smalley, drivers can conform to the stereotypes of their occupations as well. Academics tend to be distracted, while salespeople often rush. Even more importantly, complacency is a concern for all experienced drivers.

Smalley likens it to golf. ‘If you have never played before, you have ten or 12 lessons and get yourself a handicap, then you stop having lessons and never improve after that,’ he says. It also means drivers fail to learn if they have developed faults in their technique over the years.

The occupational test also satisfies the increasingly strong corporate urge to mitigate all types of risk, including demonstrating duty of care to employees. Normally, the test follows one to three days of training, but on the day I was put through my paces, I came to it blind to see how an experienced driver would fare without the benefit of instruction.

First on the agenda when Smalley and I met at Gordano Services was a written test. Unfortunately, I am not allowed to divulge the contents but I can reveal the pass rate is 16 out of 20 and most of the questions are directly about safety issues. Some, in my opinion, are ambiguous and need rewriting. But then I would: I only scored 11.

Confident I could make a stunning comeback through a virtuoso display of driving skills, Smalley and I eased ourselves into my aged Ford Mondeo for a cruise around the streets and motorways of Bristol. I wondered if Smalley would score me extra points for the hours I spent the night before giving the vehicle its first clean in months. I also wondered if I should explain that the large hole in the front bumper was inflicted by a hit-and-run driver while parked outside a party at South Brewham Village Hall and not when I was at the wheel. In the end, I opted for silence.

I launched on to the M5, keeping to 70mph, overtaking the odd lorry just to prove I was not playing it unnaturally ultra-safe. After a couple of junctions, we switched to the Avon countryside and then flirted with the suburbs of Bristol for 20 minutes or so before purring back to Gordano Services. At this point I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. I hadn’t hit any cars or people, hadn’t braked sharply and generally considered I had been a gentleman of the road, giving way to other road-users and pedestrians at every opportunity. So how did I do, Bob? ‘Overall, there was no danger in your driving,’ he replied, ‘but I wouldn’t give you a grade today.’

The list of my faults was a long one: not looking ahead at junctions and roundabouts to anticipate the flow of traffic; using my clutch to decelerate instead of braking (‘brakes are for slowing; gears are for going’ is the modern mantra apparently); over-fussy signalling when passing hazards; never using the near-side mirror; approaching hazards too fast and entering 30mph zones at 35mph.

Bob leavened the disappointment with a couple of words of praise. Apparently, my space management is good, meaning I keep my distance well. Also, he assured me, there is nothing that could not be put right without a day’s training.

Clearly it was in RoSPA’s interests to fail me to make the point that we could all benefit from training – but, to be honest, Smalley’s criticisms were not only fair but helpful. I have tried to correct my behaviour since and hope that, even if I do notch up 25,000 miles in 2007, I will have a better chance of being alive at the end of it.

More information: www.rospa.com/roadtest