New Roads - We Built This City On Rock And Roll

New Roads

We Built This City On Rock And Roll

Slow Ride To Music Heaven

Story | Sabrina Giacomini

PhotoGraphy | Sabrina Giacomini, Sam Howitz

Rock and Roll is a jewel of American history and a source of national pride like the Ford Mustang, the Internet and Harley-Davidsons. Created in the mid-50s, it has taken on different flavours through the decades, from Aretha Franklin’s dose of soul to Prince’s 80s’ funk, to Metallica’s metal-for-dummies sounds. Though I grew up in the 90s, I was turned on at an early age to the real classics including Creedence Clearwater Revival, AC/DC, Dire Straits, Journey, and Supertramp, only to name a few. Now, there is one place in the world where the biggest names in rock and roll from every generation cohabit under the same roof and that means travelling to Cleveland, Ohio to meet with them.

Music transcends the soul and communicates emotions in ways words can’t. Every song is the bearer of something uniquely personal to anyone who hears it. Listening to “old time” Rock and Roll has the sound of nostalgia for me. We would listen to a lot of music in the car when I was a kid, both on CDs and the radio where the classic rock station was blasting the industry’s biggest hits in our ears.

To this day, I always keep a collection of old-time songs on my phone to listen to in the car. I somehow know all the classics; they’re imprinted in my brain and whether I want it or not, I can’t help but hum the melody of late 70s and 80s songs to the surprise and sometimes dismay of the people around me. Considering my affections for rock music, you’d think that a visit to Cleveland would have become a bucket-list element a lot earlier. However, much as it makes sense now, I actually didn’t know I wanted to go to Cleveland until it hit me.

My last two motorcycle road trips had me revisiting my home province of Quebec, taking a few days to travel and making a few stops along the way. This time, I don’t have a few days; I only have a weekend, so I need something short, but oh-so-sweet. I also want something south of the border, just to add another stamp on my passport.

As I scour the map, the little star that indicates the location of Cleveland, Ohio starts shining brighter and brighter. The more I look at it, the more it starts making sense.

It’s located only 458 kilometers from Toronto, Ontario, where I live, which is an easy distance to conquer over a weekend. Plus, this is my chance to gaze upon musical greatness with a visit to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, the Mecca for melomaniacs. It’s settled then: I’m going to Ohio!

Now that I have my destination, I need a ride. The last few times I travelled by bike, I played it safe by opting for more road-trip friendly dual-sport models equipped with all the bells and whistles to aid in my comfort, but this time will be different. Why not “rock” things up a little?

From the first time I sat on the Kawasaki Ninja 1000 a few years ago, it has become one of my favourite rides— one I could easily see myself owning someday. It’s a smooth, exciting bike that can be as naughty as you like or as tame as you need. Considering the bike has been reworked in 2017, this is the perfect opportunity for me rekindle the flame with my favourite model.

Contacting the people at Kawasaki Canada, I pitch my idea as best as I can, working very hard to get them as excited about the perspective of clocking 1,000 km on the Ninja 1000 as I am. I’m in luck: they like the idea and even throw in a pair of convenient sidecases to make my trip easier.

I set out early on a Saturday morning with a fully packed Ninja 1000, ready for my adventure to and from Ohio; a true metaphorical hit and run to Rock and Roll City. This first hour of riding on the Queen Elizabeth Way (QEW) on the way to Buffalo, New York from Toronto, Ontario, is the dullest part of the trip.

The downside to travelling by motorcycle means there’s no music to keep me company and to build my anticipation of visiting the world’s most famous rock museum. Thankfully, once I’ve crossed the border, I get to leave the bustling highway behind and jump on Road 5 where the scenery makes up for the lack of background music.

Road 5 makes its way along the shores of Lake Erie, running parallel to the Interstate, but with a lot more curb appeal than the I-90 concrete jungle. Just south of Buffalo, the road is a lovely stretch of smooth asphalt following the lake shore.

I make a first pit stop near Athol Springs where an empty beach catches my eye. The early day is a little too cool for a dip in the lake; the beach is nearly empty. This turns out to be a very pleasant spot to take a break and snap a few pictures.

By the time I reach Pennsylvania, the seemingly infinite blue surface of the lake has been replaced by the lush and dense foliage of trees as the road takes on a far more twisty personality.

The road is lined with weeping willows and tall cypress trees, giving the area a mystical atmosphere as I carve the bends at a smooth pace. I am having a zen moment.

Did you know that the states of New York and Pennsylvania have wineries? I’ve never seen a “New York” section at the wine store, so I was fascinated to see rows and rows of vines perfectly lined up, poking out of the green rolling hills.

I finally reach the State of Ohio where Road 5 branches out into tertiary roads. That’s when I jump on the Interstate to tackle the last hour of my trip. The outline of Cleveland’s cityscape looks like a miniaturized NYC with only a few skyscrapers poking their heads out.

The city’s downtown area is rather small compared to other bigger city’s, which means most of everything worth seeing is also easily accessible.

As I exit the highway, on my right, a striking glass pyramid stands tall. Big, loud, bright red letters lined up in front of the building spell “Long Live Rock”, starkly contrasting the delicate glass architecture that almost blends into its surroundings. It’s hard not to guess what I’m looking at.

I make my way to The Westin Cleveland Downtown located on St. Clair Avenue NE where I booked a room for the night, only a few blocks away from the waterfront and, of course, the Hall of Fame. With my ten-hour-day in the saddle behind me, I decide to call it an early night to rise bright and early the following day.

I grab dinner at Sausalito on Ninth, located only a few easy steps away from my hotel. The food there is delightful and the service, an immediate mood-brightener. The restaurant offers an excellent wine selection (no New York wines here either), a delectable treat after a long day on the road. I opt for an appropriately-named Zeppelin Riesling—a sweet and refreshing German white.

After a restful night of sleep, I wake up refreshed and ready to travel back home, but not before I pay my respects to all the music greats. The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Foundation was created in April 1983 and started inducting artists in 1986. The museum, however, was only offcially dedicated in 1995. Cleveland won the foundation’s favours over Memphis for the location of the Hall of Fame and architect I. M. Pei was commissioned for the building’s design.

Today, the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame features a collection of inductees’ artifacts, a library with archives, as well as temporary and permanent exhibits.

Safely displayed behind windows, the collection of objects having belonged to some of the world’s biggest celebrities is overwhelming. Pinned to the walls, jackets, dresses, guitars, posters, shoes, hats and memorabilia of all genre walk us through the history of one of the most important musical movements from the last Century. There is something quietly emotional and powerful about being there and I step out feeling my love of rock music is stronger than ever.

Before leaving Cleveland behind, I make a stop at the Voinovich Bicentennial Park located on East 9th Street Pier, outside the museum’s doors. If you time your visit correctly, you can even attend festivals in the park where a permanent concrete stage has been set up to host events. Cleveland’s waterfront is like a musical cocoon.

Inspired by my visit to the Hall of Fame, I can hear all the classics loop in my head. Fortunate Son, Dream On, Sultans of Swing, Rocket Man. What would I give to crank the volume up and sing my heart out on the road back home? But I can’t really complain—who needs music when you get to hear the notes of the one-literengine tucked between your knees?