They say a vacation can take years off your appearance

Tonight, our third on the road, we arrived in Denver at rush hour. Mr. T's solid research enabled us to navigate the unbelievable traffic with relative ease and we arrived at our motel intact and feeling somewhat peckish.

Across the interstate from us, we espied a small retail mall which included several restaurants. Initially, feeling in the mood for something a bit spicy, we headed for Chili's. There's a new one back home we haven't tried yet so it seemed like a fortuitous opportunity. Or not so much. The parking lot around it was chock-a-block with the cars of young people and the restaurant itself was full of them.

OK, no problem, we can be flexible. We headed for Chipotle's, a Mexican fast-food outlet we'd passed en route to Chile's. We both ordered the burrito bowl.

Drinks? asked the 20-something cashier.

Um, I'll have a bottle of water, sez I. Then, spying a Corona Lite, No, no, I'll have a CL.

I'll need to see your ID, sez she. And yours, too, sir, as Mr. T orders a Modelo Negro.

Huh? You're carding me?

Three days on the road and already we're looking like teenagers.