One of the most surprising and interesting trips Judy and I have taken came about because of our friendship with a Catholic priest, Father Phillip De Rea.

I met Father Phil, whom Judy often described as "less Saint Thomas Aquinas and more Friar Tuck," when he became the chaplain of the Indy car series.

Phil had grown up in Nazareth, Pa., and had been the parish priest at the church attended by the Andretti family. He and Mario had become friends and he began accompanying the driving star to the races, where Phil quickly saw a need for spiritual guidance.

Judy and I spent many a wonderful evening in Father Phil's company at some amazing restaurants. And we met many of his colleagues and friends, which included a wide array of people from all walks of life.

Phil loved people and people loved him. That made him a natural as a fund raiser for the church and he became very successful at raising money to buy vehicles for missionaries overseas and other big Catholic projects.

He rubbed shoulders with a lot of the racing elite - team owners and officials - and became a friend to just about anybody he met. His lifestyle also led to some apparent jealousy within the Church.

Eventually, it also led to the Church deciding to send him to Rome, purportedly to help reopen a very old church near the Vatican that was overseen by two elderly priests, who really didn't want any help.

Phil could have taken the assignment as a punishment but, instead, he jumped into it with both feet, enjoying the chance to work on his Italian and to meet and help new people. It was also the chance to play host to dozens of visitors, family and friends, showing them the delights of Rome.

I was at home in Wake Forest, NC, one summer day in 2004 when the phone rang. It was Phil calling to ask if Judy and I might be interested in attending a conclave at the Vatican. The meeting was to discuss the problems faced by people who traveled for a living, such as circus and carnival folks, gypsies and such. Phil convinced the powers that be at the Vatican to add racing people to the discussion.

Judy doesn't particularly enjoy foreign travel for a number of reasons. For one thing, she likes to stay close to home. And, not speaking any other language but English, she dislikes not being able to understand what is going on around her in public settings. So I expected a firm no when I brought up the subject of traveling to Rome that December, after the racing season ended.

Instead, Judy shocked me by saying, "Okay, as long as we can go to England on the way."

One of my good friends from auto racing was Dennis Morgan, the editor of the Toronto Star's "Wheels" section and, for years, that paper's auto racing reporter. Dennis was an ex-pat, born in England and emigrated to Canada, where he met and married Angelina, who became Judy's friend.

Along the way, Dennis' elderly "Mum" made annual visits to Canada and sometimes accompanied the Morgans to race weekends, where we all became friends.

"Mum is in a home somewhere near London and, if we can visit her, then yes, we can go to Rome, too," Judy said.

Done!

It was a fabulous trip, with a week in England and ten days in Italy, neither of which we had visited previously.

We did indeed travel by train to the small town outside of London where Mum was living. She was delighted to see both of us, but Judy especially, and made sure that Judy tried her dessert that day, Spotted Dick. It was a sort of very sweet pudding.

While we were in London, we did all the usual touristy things, watching the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, visiting the Tower of London, attending a performance of "The Mousetrap" on the West End, taking high tea at Harrods Department Store and touring Shakespeare's Globe Theater.

When we took the Globe tour, most of it outside, since the theater is uncovered, it was a cold, rainy December day. As we were finishing, I was looking in the guidebook for somewhere to warm up and saw there was a tea and coffee museum and cafe only a few blocks from the Globe.

It was supposed to be open until 5 p.m. and we got there at 4:30. But, just as we walked up to the door, the lights went off inside. We walked in anyway and asked the young lady behind the counter why they were closing early. She said, "Nobody is here." I said, "We are," and she grudgingly turned the lights back on and charged us the full rate for our visit, despite saying they would close in 20 minutes.

We decided to see the museum rather than sit down for a warm drink. Typically, I walked through rather quickly while Judy strolled, read every sign and took notes.

As I walked back toward the cafe in the front of the museum I saw a tall, distinguished and well-dressed man who I recognized from numerous pictures scattered through the museum as the owner. He looked a little stuffy, but I walked up and introduced myself and he turned out to be very friendly and pleasant.

I told him that Judy was still wandering in the museum and it was hard to get her to move any faster. He said, "That's not a problem. I'll send the girls home and she can take her time. I live upstairs, so I'm in no hurry."

When Judy finally appeared, the gentleman invited us to take tea and scones with him. Absolutely delicious.

After answering numerous questions from Judy about tea and coffee, he excused himself for a moment before coming back with a book on the history of tea and coffee and presenting it to Judy. It turns out, he wrote it.

Another wonderful experience.

Judy also wanted to see one of England's famous hedge mazes. We decided to take a train out to Hampton Court, the onetime home of Henry VIII. It was great fun, with docents dressed up and playing the roles of servants from the time of the infamous king. And the maze was beautiful and challenging.

Another highlight of our visit to England was a trip out to Greenwich to have lunch with longtime AP writer Paul Treauthart and his wife, who also took us on a tour of their village.

Finally, it was on to Rome, where we met up with Father Phil, Lewis, Indy car star Helio Castroneves, his sister Katie and his parents as well as Bob Hills, who was also a chaplain for the Indy car series.

Phil had a friend (of course) who owned a beautiful, new hotel just across the street from the Vatican museum. The family had owned a hotel next door for generations before building the new edifice, which was all marble and granite. From the balcony in our room, we could watch people walking in and out of the museum and see the roofs of the Vatican.

And, of course, it was within walking distance of just about everything in the most historic part of Rome.

The conclave, which was held in a meeting room in the Vatican, was fascinating. We were provided with headphones for translations into English from the various languages being spoken. Helio, one of several speakers on the morning we attended, made an impassioned and impressive speech about faith. It was inspiring.

The rest of the trip was just a lot of fun, most of it arranged by Father Phil, who seemed to know everyone in Rome.

He had set up a private, after-hours tour of the Sistine Chapel, led by the curator of the Vatican Museum. While most visits to the Sistine Chapel are in masses of people, often shoulder to shoulder, as you're pushed through to the exit, there were only about 40 of us in attendance and we had about an hour to absorb the beauties of Michelangelo's incredible work.

At one point, Judy and a nun friend of Phil's that she had become friendly with, were lying on the floor of the chapel, pointing out things to each other from the ceiling art. It was a tremendous privilege.

Phil also arranged an audience with Pope John Paul II for our group. We were actually ushered in a back door of the Vatican Palace, the pope's home. There were no metal detectors or Swiss Guards at that entrance. We were just led in by one of the Pope's priest cadre.

He had been very ill for a while and had just come out of the hospital. As it turned out, he died only weeks after we saw him. But, on this day, the Pope was apparently feeling fine and enjoying life.

He was wheeled in on a rolling throne and placed at the front of the room, facing the 50 or so people that were granted this audience. He made a few remarks of greeting in English and then we were all treated to several acrobatic acts by participants in the conclave.

At one point, one of the acrobats slipped from the grasp of his partners and started to fall before being caught just short of the floor by the other men. All of us, including the Pope, gasped in horror and then clapped happily when the man was saved from injury.

Knowing we would be part of the audience, Judy brought a gift for the Pope - "You don't come to somebody's house without a present."

She had bought some warm, fuzzy socks, noting that elderly people, particularly those who don't feel well, get cold feet. I pooh, poohed the idea that she could give the Pope a gift, saying, "You can't just walk up and hand him a package."

But Phil took care of it. He walked Judy up to the Pope's main emissary, a Cardinal from Asia, and told him Judy had "a gift for His Holiness." When Judy told him what it was, the man beamed and said, "I'll make sure he gets this thoughtful gift."

I like to think that, weeks later, when I watched on TV as the Pope's body was carried through the Vatican to be placed on view, that he was wearing a pair of those socks.

When people, including the Castroneves family, lined up to kiss the Pope's ring, as Jews we decided to simply watch and enjoy the ceremony.

Another image that stays with me is of Judy and Father Phil crossing a crazy, busy street in Rome. The traffic there is outlandish and scary, but Judy tucked up under Phil's arm and the two strolled across the street. She figured who in Rome is going to run over a priest. And she was right as cars brakes to a halt and waited patiently for them to cross.

Phil had also arranged for all of us to take a minibus to Parma, where we were invited to be guests of Dallara, which built cars for the Indy car series. The trip up, through a series of mountain tunnels, was spectacular.

We were guests at the company's Christmas party, put up in the company's luxury hotel and treated to a fabulous dinner at a castle owned by Dallara, where everything that was served was either grown or raised on the property.

The next morning, Judy and I and Lewis visited a nearby factory that made and sold Parmesan cheese. As Lewis and I walked through the store at the front of the factory, we noticed that Judy was nowhere to be seen.

When we walked into the factory, looking for her, we found Judy standing with a group of workers who were laughing and talking in excited Italian as Judy stirred a vat of parmesan with a long paddle. There were hugs galore for her before we left with a huge chunk of parmesan to bring home.

We spent part of the afternoon on the way back to Rome in Florence. where we got to see the 17-foot tall statue of David, carved by Michelangelo, in the Accademia Gallery,. One of the benefits of going to Italy in December is that there are few tourists, so we got to walk in and see the statue with no crowd and no waiting. Who knew it was so big?

Of course we saw most of the major sights in Rome, such as The Colosseum, the Trevi Fountain and many of the spectacular cathedrals. We also visited the synagogue in the Jewish ghetto and attended a Friday night service there. It was a strange feeling having to show our passports to the Carabinieri guards, who brandish machine guns and have watched over the synagogue since a terrorist attack years ago.

Some of the meals we had in Rome also stand out, including one at a restaurant inside an ancient cavern that is the oldest continuously operating restaurant in Rome.

One day, Phil was too busy to join us for lunch, but said to pick any restaurant near the Vatican and just tell them that Padre Fillipo had sent us. We laughed and made jokes about him being the most important man in Rome.

Then we found a restaurant, sat down at a table and told the maitre de that we were friends of Padre Fillipo. He lit up and said, "Ah, Amici (friends) of the Padre. We will take care of you."

The food was great and the bill had the appropriate Padre Fillipo discount.

The trip was spectacular and, even this many years later, it brings warm memories, particularly of Father Phil, who passed away several years ago. He was a special  man and a great friend.