Sometimes the most surprising family history discoveries appear when you least expect them. While sorting through a forgotten box of papers (you know, the kind we genealogists can never resist), I stumbled upon something that made me catch my breath—a complete set of purchase documents for a 1936 Plymouth Sedan my grandfather, George Dubinsky, bought in November 1940.
The irony? In all my years of knowing my grandfather, I never once saw the man drive!
And I’ve just discovered I’m not alone in this—my mother, George’s daughter, never saw him drive either! This multi-generational blindspot in our family lore makes this discovery even more delicious. Two generations of women who knew him only as a pedestrian and subway rider, completely unaware of his automotive past.
My maternal grandfather, “Pops,” spent his married life in Brooklyn, where owning a car is about as practical as keeping a giraffe in your backyard. The Brooklyn grandfather I knew had fully embraced walking and riding the subway. Yet these yellowed documents tell a completely different story—of a younger George who not only drove but apparently had enough automotive enthusiasm to trade up for a newer model.

According to the lease agreement from November 16, 1940, my grandfather was living at 45 Morrell Street in Johnstown, Pennsylvania when he purchased this Plymouth.1 This was during a fascinating period in his life—he had already joined the Army on February 15, 1939, and was serving in the reserves before being activated again after Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941.

Not a sedan, not a coupe, but a rakish, sporty roadster—the Jazz Age equivalent of a Miata! With its open top and jaunty profile, the Roadster wasn’t just transportation—it was a statement.4 I simply cannot reconcile this image with the quiet, methodical grandfather I knew. Was he a different man then? Did he drive with one elbow casually propped on the door, perhaps with a cigarette dangling from his lips?

ID 1565247 | 1931 Ford Roadster ©
Kathryn Sidenstricker | Dreamstime.com
Finding these documents has me wondering if perhaps the apple didn’t fall far from the tree after all. In 2009, fresh from my divorce and embracing newfound freedom, I bought myself a gloriously impractical cherry-red 2006 Mazda Miata—a two-seater convertible with barely enough trunk space for a grocery bag.

For years, I zipped around Cincinnati with the top down, feeling the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. Was my grandfather watching from above, chuckling with recognition as I unknowingly followed in his roadster-loving footsteps? Was there a moment when he nudged another ancestor and said, “See that? That’s my granddaughter in that little red car. Gets it from my side of the family!”
The financial details tell their own story of American life on the eve of World War II. The Plymouth cost $366.36 total, with monthly payments of $16.785—roughly equivalent to $330 today. A significant commitment for a young man in military service.

What ultimately happened to that 1936 Plymouth remains a mystery. Did my grandfather sell it when he was activated for full-time military service? Did he drive it during courtship? I know it didn’t make the journey to Brooklyn after his marriage to my grandmother. Smart man – who would want to be faced with the parking nightmare of those Brooklyn streets!?
These documents have permanently changed how I see my grandfather. Before he was Pops—before he was the quiet presence at family gatherings—he was George, a young man in Johnstown who traded a sporty roadster for a practical sedan as he prepared for whatever life might bring.
Just when you think you know your ancestors, they surprise you. My newspaper-reading grandfather was once a young man who felt the thrill of an open roadster on a sunny day. And decades later, his granddaughter would feel that same thrill, without ever knowing they shared it.
The wheels of time turn in fascinating ways, don’t they?
Have you discovered surprising aspects of your ancestors’ lives that changed how you see them? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments!
- General Motors Acceptance Corporation, lease agreement for Plymouth Sedan, George Dubinsky, 16 November 1940; privately held by Kirsten Max-Douglas, Cincinnati, Ohio, 2025. Original document shows lessee’s address as “45 Morrell Street, Johnstown, Pa.” ↩︎
- Motor Sales Company, Statement of Transaction, Plymouth Sedan, 16 November 1940; privately held by Kirsten Max-Douglas, Cincinnati, Ohio, 2025. Document shows serial number P2489639 and motor number 2956421. ↩︎
- Motor Sales Company, Statement of Transaction, 16 November 1940; privately held by Kirsten Max-Douglas, Cincinnati, Ohio, 2025. The trade-in vehicle is listed as “1931 Ford Roadster.” ↩︎
- Ray Miller, Henry’s Lady: An Illustrated History of the Model A Ford (Oceanside, CA: Evergreen Press, 1975), 94-97. ↩︎
- General Motors Acceptance Corporation, payment coupons for Plymouth Sedan, George Dubinsky, November 1940-December 1940; privately held by Kirsten Max-Douglas, Cincinnati, Ohio, 2025. Payment book shows total price $366.36, down payment $165.00, and monthly payments of $16.78. ↩︎

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