All we get is dear old Keith Quinn urging us to prepay our funerals or happy smiling couples looking forward to their croquet game at their "simply wonderful" retirement home. Well, from my perspective - a one-fingered salute to that.
Why does this happen? It's because the ad agencies are populated by 30-year-olds briefed by people the same age, both of whom have real trouble identifying with anyone who doesn't listen to the radio through a smart phone. Everything is aimed at the young.
In surveys, those of us who are over 65 are lumped together in one category - all the other age groups are broken out.
We are ignored, discounted, invisible and patronised.
Occasionally, however, someone in the travel industry hits the right buttons.
I came home last year to be greeted by my wife saying; "Your diary says you're free on these dates. I hope it's accurate because I've booked us to see Tosca on Sydney Harbour. I saw a great three-day package deal advertised by Qantas - hotel, airfares - so I just booked it on the spot."
My wife's sudden purchase shows we oldies do not need to be led into the garden of temptation. We're standing there, money in our hands, waiting for someone to take it.
This time around in Paris, we can forget the frantic rush to see all the sights in three days. We no longer need to build that US holiday around the children's needs. We can indulge. We can learn. We can take that precious commodity, time, and not be sending emails at 2am local time.
So come on, travel industry. We don't all want the escorted coach tour, but we do want informed guides when we get there.
We don't want expensive hotels, but we do want rented apartments so we can grocery shop in foreign countries.
And we don't want 10 cities in 17 days - we want small boat cruises and bicycles on our canal barge in Europe.
We want to revisit our youthful indiscretions in London, to recapture those memories (even if I was with someone else!). Give us those "wind in my hair in a sports car in Paris" moments.
Travel is evocative. It's the most emotional of all experiences: the places you see but most of all the people you meet. No one ever arrived at an airport, suitcase in hand, without a purpose and in our 60s and 70s we've got a hell of a purpose.
Happiness, it's said, is someone to love, something to do and something to look forward to. So, if wonky knees and chopped-up food are what's approaching fast on the menu of life, give us one last chance (maybe two or three or ...) to spend the fruits of our labours.
Tempt me. Tempt us. We need to enjoy it while we can - we're running out of time.