Being twenty again

When Keith and I climbed into the car a fortnight ago to set off on our travels, he turned to me and said, "How old do we feel?"
"Twenty!" we both cried and off we went.
Of course, by the time we got to the south of France, after an almost non-stop journey, we felt more like a hundred and twenty.
This, however, did not stop us doing much the same on the way home. We had allowed ourselves three days to get back but we decided to cut that to two and, instead of stopping overnight at Limoges, carried on to Orleans, but then, having reached Orleans by mid afternoon, it seemed like an irresistable challenge to carry on all the way to Calais. Once there, it was a piece of cake to hop on the 11pm boat and then carry on from Dover, with a couple of stops on the way to catch some zeds.
So here we were, back chez nous at 10.45am yesterday.
Of course it then became necessary to sleep most of the afternoon and for eleven hours last night and to spend most of today feeling totally exhausted, so no, we still don't feel twenty.
Funny thing is, when I was twenty, I probably would have had far more sense than to do a journey like that so maybe I am growing backwards.
P.S. Keith is talking about making it to Florence next time.
       I think he might be on his own!