A Tonganoxie resident asked me a few weeks ago how old I was.

“24,” I replied.

The resident’s response was short, but not all that sweet. Basically, I must enjoy this upcoming birthday, because it’s the last great hoopla-filled anniversary I’ll ever partake in, they told me.

Why? Because my car insurance premiums will cost less now that I’ve hit this plateau of the mid-20s.

Cheaper insurance? Man, I must be getting old if this is the reason for confetti birthday cake.

But, I was told, this is the cold truth.

Nothing left to look forward to.

Oldness will start sinking in after today. At about 5:30 a.m. Jan. 8, 1978, I was born. So at the stroke of midnight, the 25th birthday will be gone and all the excitement snuffed out by years of com se, com sa.

Gone are those days when every year was vividly celebrated on a Hallmark card. Turning 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and even 6 was a big thing, as the card boasted each year’s number. Turning 10 is cool. You’re officially a decade old. Then comes 13 — now officially a teen. Ah, sweet 16, the birthday that driving becomes legit.

No. 17 isn’t bad, either. It’s between freedom on the road and the freedom to vote (And buy lottery tickets and smoke nicotine).

Reaching 19 and 20 aren’t all that special, but they lead up to the all important 21 — probably the most celebrated, which then can turn painful the next morning.

And that brings us to 25, the last great birthday. I’ve already gotten into the doomsday mode. While reading an article about the Kansas Turnpike expanding to six lanes from four between Topeka and Lawrence, I was excited to see the improvement to the heavily used road. The stretch, however, won’t be finished until 2007 — when I turn 30! Too bad I’ll be too old to enjoy it. With any luck I’ll still be able to peer over the steering wheel.

OK, so now that the greatest years of my life are pretty much behind me, I must prepare for just getting by. It’s hard to beat the high school and college years, but every era has its place. Turning 30, 40 and 50 have their benefits. You certainly can’t beat those black over-the-hill balloons. At 50, you also relish in senior citizen prices. If establishments don’t recognize the discount at that age, then you can look forward to 55 and 60. During a trip through a McDonald’s drive-through a few years back, my mother asked if there were any senior citizen prices. The fast-food employee replied with: “Senior citizen fries?”

The miscommunication leads us to another sense that probably will be going soon — my hearing. But if you, too, are trying to cope with life after 25, remember the possibilities still ahead: marriage, children, children’s birthdays, children’s graduations, fulfilling careers, children’s weddings and, last but equally important, retirement.

After thinking of what may lie ahead, there’s no need to fear life after 25.

Now, if I could just find a decent deal on Rogaine, I’ll be set.

— Shawn Linenberger covers sports for The Mirror. His columns usually appear on the Sports pages.