I don’t know how this happened, but it did.

Remember that old man? The one who lived down the street when you were a kid? That grumpy curmudgeon who said, “Hey, you kids, get out of my yard.”

I have turned into that guy.

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I reached age 40 this summer, and I wasn’t overly concerned about it. After all, they say 40 is the new 30, right?

Trouble is, nobody bothered to tell that to my body.

I have plenty of gray hair underneath the baseball cap I am often seen wearing. The gray is more easily seen when I’m in a shirt and tie with no hat.

A colleague I worked with 20 years ago in Pierre reminded me of this the other day when he stopped by the Cap Journal office.

I don’t have the exact quote, but it went something like this: “What the heck happened to you? You were just a young kid when you were here last. And now, well, look at you. What’s with the old guy hair?”

I prefer my wife’s kinder opinion that I look “distinguished.”

Truth be told, I have always considered myself an old soul. Over the years, I often got along better with folks 10 years my senior.

I had an 8-track tape player in my car in high school and I still own a couple boxes of vinyl records. I could even dig up a Johnny Cash or Grand Funk Railroad 8-track from the basement if I had to. (For those in the MP3 and ipod crowd, 8-tracks and records are ancient forms of technology used to play music. There were invented just after the wheel and the discovery of fire.)

I think my newfound “oldness” might be nature’s way of playing catch-up with me.

What do I mean?

Sometimes, it hurts to get out of bed in the morning. I hope I’m not the only one with creaky bones and sore muscles for no apparent reason. These days, I’m a Rice Krispies commercial in the morning, complete with all the snaps, crackles and pops.

My driving habits also have changed.

I don’t see as well at night anymore, so I don’t like to set out on a long trip in the wee hours. Heck, the Mike from 20 years ago drove through blizzards, severe thunderstorms an all kinds of other treacherous conditions. I even chased a tornado or two.

Today, not so much.

I’d rather just wait until the storm passes and get a couple more hours of sleep. No hurry, no worry.

I also have noticed I drive a bit slower and pay attention to things like gas mileage. Someone actually honked at me in town the other day. Apparently, I was cruising along at the breakneck speed of 15 mph.

And, it’s amazing how much you can save on gas if you ease off the gas pedal a bit and make sure you use the cruise control on the highway.

The examples of my oldness appear to be endless.

Earlier this summer, I helped my family put a new roof on the house at the farm. After three hours of removing shingles, I was dehydrated and exhausted. I had to go inside and lie down.

That was my first, and last, roof-fixing job.

There there’s the whole fist-bump thing when people greet each other. I still prefer to use the firm handshake — although I have been known on occasion to use the fist bump in an attempt to fit in with the young folks.

But then, I try to be clever with a 1980s movie or pop culture reference and am met with eye rolling —or worse — blank stares.

I’ve decided to send myself a telegram (er, e-mail): Mike, you’re getting old. Get used to it.

Michael Avok is the managing editor of the Capital Journal.