As usual, this reminds me of another pointless anecdote.
At one time I worked for a little electronics manufacturer. One Saturday morning, I stopped in to the building to spend a couple of hours painting my office. (it was a
small company)
The owner was there, getting ready to drive to the airport. He asked me to go with him and bring his car back to the office. We get to the airport, he pops the trunk and gets out, I get out to go around to the driver's side. As we are back at the trunk, he says "Say, would you mind putting these in my desk when you get back.", hands me two little pistol rugs, and slams the trunk. I get in the car, toss them on the seat, and motor. As I'm driving away from the airport, for some reason it dawns on me that I had stuffed my wallet in my jacket pocket after getting some drive-thru on the way to work, and I had left my jacket at work.
No driver's license or ID of any kind on me.
I'm in a nice shiny Mercedes, unshaved, wearing stained jeans and a ratty old sweatshirt. The guy whose car it is is on a plane to I don't know where. Two mouseguns in the car, loaded (I peeked and they turned out to be a Browning and a Beretta, both .25). My afternoon plans that day involved a gun auction, so there were several hundred dollars in my money clip. At the time, I wore a nice old Rolex that was formerly my Dad's.
I could just see the conversation, should I get stopped:
"So, Mr. Jubjub, if that is your real name, you say the guns and the car belong to your boss, who you have no idea how to get in touch with until next Tuesday, and the Rolex is yours even though the inscription is to someone else, and all this money is yours, and this is how you dress at the office."
It was a long, slow drive back.