Well, on that note:
Some event springs up in America that the Pope decides he absolutely must attend. There isn’t time to put together his usual entourage or ship his pope-mobile, but he decides to go anyway. His jet is summoned and a Limousine service is contracted. He arrives in New York and the Limo is waiting when the plane stops. He disembarks, hops in and gives the driver an address in the country. After a half hour he starts a conversation with the driver, saying how much he loved to drive in his youth. After more conversation he asks the driver if he could please drive for a while, “No Sir”, but he keeps begging and since they’re in the countryside the driver relents. They swap seats, and the Pope floors it ecstatic. They roar down the road and past a speed trap before getting pulled over. The first cop gets out, walks up to the window and the Pope rolls it down. After about a minute he walks back to the squad car white as a sheet. His partner asks what’s wrong. He says “You’re not going to believe who’s in that car!” Partner says “Who, tell me.” “Well, I don’t know who was in the back, but the Pope is his driver.”