My carpool mate suddenly asked, “How old are you?”

Just moments before, he talked about more than 15 years of moving from Norway back to Denmark then back to Norway then back to Denmark then to the United States. His struggles with relationships that made him make hard choices, often leading by emotions than logic. As so he claimed.

I shared how I went to college, then went to graduate school, then started working and climbed up levels, always wanting to move, but never quite moving. Changing jobs so frequently like all my peers in the Bay Area.

In his voice, I heard the sudden tinge of nervousness as he asked for my age. He looked for confirmation that my years of experience was equal to his years of experience. That seniority is equivalent to age. It was a common hint of anxiety I have heard from people older than me in the Bay Area. Especially where the youth is much more valued than the old.

As I started answering, I worried for a moment that his anxiety would rise. But how could I avoid the answer and shift seamlessly to another topic without awkwardness?