Like most kids, I couldn't wait for that special day.
You know, the one that comes with the smell of freedom, gasoline and visions of racing off solo with your friends or, even better, your girlfriend.
So on that cold, blustery day in Pennsylvania, I slid behind the wheel of my mom's car with her in the passenger seat, drove to the DMV and promptly failed my driving test.
Not the way I wanted to celebrate my fourth birthday.
I don't mean to brag, but I was walking and talking before my first birthday, had my first run-in with the police over a misunderstanding about matches when I was two and went on my first "date" just after I turned three.
You see I'm a Leap Year baby, one of those kids who are born once every 1,461 days.
I wish I could say it was planned that way. But, not for the first time, my mom said I was just being difficult and didn't come when I was supposed to.
The origins of Leap Day are much more interesting.
Thousands of years ago, it was determined that a solar year took 365 days. But it actually takes a bit longer to finish a complete orbit around the sun, making the calendar year a hair shorter than a solar year.
So the Egyptians, followed by the Romans, added a "Leap Day" to the calendar every fourth year.
But the actual time it takes to complete an orbit is just over 11 minutes shorter than 365 1/4 days.
That doesn't make much of a difference over a few years or decades. But after hundreds of years, the seasons were so out of skew with what the calendar said that something had to be done.
(I guess it was like climate change a couple centuries too early.)
So in 1582, Pope Gregory XIII decided to tweak the years Leap Day would be celebrated, eliminate 10 days from that year, and presto - calendar peace for another 3,000 years.
Catholic Europe immediately adopted the Gregorian calendar.
But, as usual, my native England lagged behind: She and her colonies didn't adopt the new calendar until 1752.
Growing up a Leap Year baby - dubbed leaplings - definitely has its advantages.
Along with the guarantee of a bigger birthday present haul every Olympic year, it was gold for breaking the ice with members of the opposite sex.
"I only like hanging out with older, more mature women. Really."
I also remember winning several bets in college after telling people I could drink my age in shots.
But my birthday milestones, like British cuisine, can sometimes leave people scratching their heads.
By my fifth birthday, I'd pretty much done everything you're not supposed to do. Turning six, I had a master's degree, at seven I had a hankering for cigars and cheap beer, and by my eighth birthday I had a mortgage and kids.
Now I'm turning nine with gimpy knees and an achy back, wondering why my doctor wants me to do more than just turn my head and cough these days.
Honestly, I didn't think I'd hit that until I hit double digits.
I feel I've missed out on a lot, too, like all those birthday discounts and free desserts you get at restaurants when it's your special day.
Oh, and I wonder what my first "real" horoscope since the first Pirates of the Caribbean film will say: not that I believe in that stuff or anything.
Looking ahead, I guess I'm approaching my teens with trepidation.
I should hit Social Security, assuming it still exists, hear my 17th birthday, and who knows if I'll even be able to have a drink when I turn 21.
But I like hanging out with older people anyway.
Gareth McGrath: 343-2384