Had to renew my driver's license yesterday, so I rode my bike the 12 miles to the DMV (not making a statement--it was the first non-frigid day in awhile and I wanted to get out). Got there early, only a short wait, no problems--until I realized the 20-something clerk was being ultra-solicitous, explaining things carefully, pointing to where I should sign, giving me extra help with the eye-test machine.
Eventually, duh, it dawned on me: I was getting the Old Person Treatment. First time it's happened to me, that I'm aware of. I'll turn 66 on Monday, but I still have hair and (thanks largely to cycling) don't bulge out of my clothes excessively. I turned an ankle the other day and was walking with a slight limp, and I tried to convince myself that was it, but it wasn't. In the eyes of the young DMV hottie, I was just another grandpa trying to hang onto his license for four more years.