On a Scale from 1 to Birthday, I’m 26

September 22, 1985.

I don’t remember much about the 80s, but do they really belong several decades in the past? Having memories from 20 years ago seems like a characteristic of old people, and I’m not pleased with the implications of such thoughts.

Still, there’s no denying the world has dramatically changed since then.

In 1985, Reagan was in the White House, the USSR was still a thing, and the Cold War was nothing to sneeze at. Nobody knew who Britney Spears was, microwaves were a novelty, and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles theme song wouldn’t show up for another few years. Born in the USA and Like a Virgin were just hitting the music charts, Cherry Coke debuted for the first time, and Les Miserables opened in London.

Most telling of all, if someone were to say “Pikachu” back then, the response would be “Bless you”.

I had always looked forward to being 25. It was a nice round number and had a good feel to it. A quarter century. Mid-20s, precisely. The last frontier for gaining exciting new legal powers (renting a car without a surcharge). And I was right – it’s been a great year!

But 25 has come and gone, and now that I’m staring 26 in the face, I realize it’s a whole new ballgame. The early 20s are gone, and the mid-20s are rapidly closing in on their daunting older cousin: the late-20s. As everyone knows, the late-20s lead directly into the 30s bracket, and from there it’s a straight shot on toward fogey-hood. And nobody wants that.

To be clear, I don’t feel old. I’m merely forced to consider for a moment the inexorable march of time and its effect on the story of my life.

I’ve always been always confused when people ask someone if they’re “on track”, as if life is composed of a series of constructed railway lines leading to distinct points with no potential for deviation. I’m proud to shake my head at such queries; I prefer being “on the road”. There are some who ditch out on the roads too, opting to blaze their own trail with nothing more than a torch and a machete, but for me there’s something comforting about having smooth asphalt under your tires. You know you’re actually going somewhere, but you also know there’s a million alternate routes and other destinations along the way that would be impossible to explore if you were stuck on the rails.

Last year was full of surprises and awesome new experiences, and I can’t wait to see where the winding road will lead this time around. So, September 22, my ancient enemy and my old friend, raise a glass because this one’s for us.

Happy birthday.