I saw you Saturday night in Nashville.

Maybe you saw me – I sat club level, row E, the only fan under 40 in section 114. When you stood stage right and sang the final refrain of “Rock N’ Roll Never Forgets” and pointed at the crowd, it was as if you were pointing at me. I sang as loud as I could, red-faced from the effort. Maybe you heard me.

Did you see my dad? Bob Vogt – he sat next to me, with salt-and-pepper hair growing saltier by the day. Saturday marked his 15th Bob Seger concert since 1976, the first time he saw you, when he was just a freckle-faced 14-year-old kid and you were just a regional, long-haired rocker about to break into the mainstream. You played some unreleased, soon-to-be famous tracks off your “Night Moves” album. Dad was hooked.

Did you see him there that night? Or a few years later, on New Year’s Eve, when an ice storm hit St. Louis and my dad and his buddies braved the cold? Or two years after that, when you were touring on “Against the Wind,” your first ever No. 1 album, and my dad was dating his first ever real-life girl?

I guess you have both changed a lot over the years – everything has changed. My dad heard you first on a record player, then bought an 8-track of your 1978 “Stranger in Town” album. Now, my dad listens to your CDs, and I whine about you not being on Spotify yet (please get on Spotify soon).

But one thing hasn’t changed over all these years; you still rock your face off when you get in front of your fans. Saturday night proved what I knew to be true already – you earned your spot in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame by the thousands of miles and shows you gave your fans. Sure, you’re one of the greatest songwriters of your generation; yeah, you have a distinctly gravelly voice. But more than the tools of your trade, your loyalty shines in your public performances. Every time a soloist had the spotlight, you would crouch your knees and lean down, almost as if trying to duck. And you would point at him or her, earnestly directing the audience, “Hey, look over here, at this awesome band-mate of mine.”

Loyal acts make loyal fans, and Bridgestone Arena was packed for you. I can’t think of many modern bands who will be selling out arenas when they’re pushing 70. I don’t know – something tells me One Direction won’t age so well.

So from a young man to an old(er) one – thank you for your music, for it has been the bond between my father and I. Thank you for your loyalty, for it has carried fans like my dad through the ups and downs of life. Most of all, thank you for being the hardest rockin’ 69-year-old man I’ve ever seen. Guys like you give guys like me and my dad hope.

R.J. Vogt is a senior in College Scholars. He can be reached at [email protected].