I went to an art school when I was 17. I spent five years studying everything and nothing at the same time, while also drinking, dating, and generally trying to figure myself out. If a class was considered cool, I took it: painting, sculpture, anthropology, urban studies. You name it. I probably wasted a fair amount of my parents' money and patience along the way.
I graduated at 21 with even more confusion and delusion than when I started.
Then I moved to NYC where my uncle lived. He told me he could get me a day job so I could pursue my dreams at night. I started working as a drawing librarian at a large engineering company. I was impressed by how serious and committed those people were. Unlike many of my artist friends, they actually built things.
Long story short, I started an apprenticeship and learned drafting. I spent five or six years there and eventually worked my way up to assistant engineer. I met some great people, including a surprising number of closet hunters and outdoorsmen. You can't exactly advertise that hobby in NYC.
Then I went through a breakup. For a sensitive young man, it was devastating.
I walked away from everything and spent four months hitchhiking across the country. It was an incredible period of solitude. I saw some beautiful places and realized just how magnificent God's creation is. Eventually, I returned to my normal life. My old boss rehired me, and I spent more time in the field working on larger and more complex projects.
A few years later, my boss, an avid outdoorsman from some godforsaken village in Arctic Norway, sat me down and told me that I would soon hit a ceiling because I didn't have a degree, and there was nothing he could do about it.
By then, I was 32. I honestly thought I was too old to go back to college.
I told my wife what was going to happen. She said I had to get a degree and that she would support me however she could.
So, I moved to Michigan and earned a bachelor's degree in building sciences. I graduated just three months before my 36th birthday. Those were some of the best years of my life.
My dad went to a collage at 35 and graduated 40.
If you really want something and have the support to pursue it, age becomes secondary.