Not ecclesiastical, but I did have a similar moment. Driving out of Edinburgh, under the direction of my passenger who used to live in the city. Coming up to a big set of traffic lights. "You want the right-hand lane," she said. I was doubtful, because I'd been that way quite often, but took her word for it. To find myself in pole position at the lights, in a right-hand-turn only lane, having passed a long line of cars in the left-hand lane wanting to go straight on.
Sorry, said my passenger, senior moment. If you turn right I can direct you back on to the main road. That's Plan B, I said, covertly eyeing up the car on my left, which was a Range Rover. So we both looked nonchalant, just a couple of old biddies meandering home from a coffee shop and all that, but I had autohold on and my foot hovering over the accelerator.
Lights started to change and Caliban leaped forward, well in front of the rather startled Range Rover, who had been quite quick off the mark himself. I felt a bit guilty, I wouldn't have done it deliberately, but it was rather satisfying nonetheless.