At one of East Carolina University's major crosswalks, a new crop of freshmen is out early traversing 10th Street in jeans and flip-flops. Despite the students' ever-youthful presence, the sight of them does not normally remind me of how far I've traveled beyond my own college days.

But on this morning, as I waited for the light to change, other factors were at play.

I was listening to the "Bob & Tom" radio show, where Peter Frampton was in the studio.

Peter Frampton — for anyone who was not listening to rock 'n' roll during the 1970s — is a rock star. In his prime, Frampton was a bit of a teen idol with his long, golden hair and smooth-shaven good looks.

Some of the radio talk centered on the fact that most of Frampton's hair has long-since vacated his head, and that which is left has lost its golden hue.

So as I'm listening to Bob and Tom and Peter discuss the unfortunate ravages of age, I'm thinking all these college kids crisscrossing in front of my pickup truck wouldn't know Peter Frampton if he were sitting on my hood with his guitar, singing "Do You Feel Like We Do."

Then, as fate would have it, I recognized one of the young faces in front of me. It was Tess, the oldest daughter of one of my very best friends, Joe.

I've known Joe since we were kids, and I've known Tess since the day she was born in East Tennessee. It does not seem real that she can now be a college student.

I knew she was attending East Carolina. I even helped her dad with a last-minute rearranging of bunk beds and desks in her dorm room the day he transported her from their home in Raleigh.

But seeing her all grown up and walking to class on a university campus was still a bit rattling, partly because I had just dropped off my own twin daughters at preschool.

When it comes to starting a family, I'm a late bloomer to say the least.

I started to roll down the window and yell "Hey, Tess," but I caught myself. I figured the last thing an incoming coed needs in the middle of a crowded crosswalk is an old gray-bearded guy yelling at her like he knows her.

She's lucky I'm not my father. He would have done it purely for the embarrassment factor.

After the light changed, I drove on home and imagined what my dad — who once stood up in a restaurant and sang "King Of The Road" while my sister Martha hid under the table — might have done in a similar situation.

I decided he would have put his hat on sideways, removed his partial plate and hollered, "Hey, Tessy girl! Don't you take in all that book learnin' and go gettin' above yore raizin's!"

I wouldn't have let her off so easy by leaving the scene unannounced if she were my daughter, of course.

In fact, I'm vowing right now that if I ever drive up on one of my girls walking to class after they get to college, I'm going to jump out of the truck with my air guitar and start singing something from "Frampton Comes Alive!"

I just hope they're still letting me drive myself around by then.

Mark Rutledge can be contacted at mrutledge@coxnc.com