My great grandfather owned a Buick. He drove it church every Sunday, on his own. He did acknowledge my great grandmother and their twelve children who were also heading to church, that is as he passed them by in a horse pulled jinker. Children and fine upholstery don't go together I guess.
My surname is not my surname, or it shouldn't be. My surname is actually a double name. The first one I do not use. I use the second name. But the second is only there because my great grandmother remarried. Some children kept the original name, some the newer and some both. I would assume my great grandmother had some children by her second husband. Now I have to work hard to see which one I am blood related to.
My Uncle, son of my grandfather and the Bolter, has turned out not to be son of my grandfather but son of someone else. His dark hair and olive skin in contrast to his three brothers who were fair confirms in my mind.
Funnily my Uncle is the father of my brother. We do like to keep our gene pool diverse.
The genealogical research can get nasty.