Peck Road had a certain mystique.
Located off Cuyahoga Street in the Cascade Valley of Akron, the quiet, dead-end road had a few houses near the entrance, but the farther back you traveled, the more secluded it became.
By day, nature lovers took Peck to visit the Signal Tree, the centuries-old bur oak that may have served as a navigational aid for Native Americans on the Portage Trail between the Cuyahoga and Tuscarawas rivers.
By night, the road attracted lovers of a different nature.
At least that’s what I heard.
Lover’s lane for North Hill
When I was a teenager on North Hill in the late 1970s and early 1980s, Peck Road had a reputation for being a place where young couples would park their cars to make out.
Its mere mention served as a bawdy punchline.
“Where did you go on your date? Peck Road?”
That line always elicited laughter.
I would laugh, too, pretending I understood the reference.
Up to that point, I had lived a fairly sheltered life. I remember in elementary school when a playground acquaintance confidently explained French kissing to me.
“That’s when a boy and girl swap bubble gum while kissing,” he said.
He dispensed this information like a mountaintop guru sharing a great truth.
Hmm. OK. Eww.
“Why would anyone want to do that?” I wondered.
What if you preferred the taste of your original gum? Would it be rude to ask for it back?
‘Paradise by the Dashboard Light’
I wasn’t quite sure how Peck Road worked. Did cars line up in neat rows? Perhaps the lane was jammed with Plymouth Valiants, Chevy Chevelles, Volkswagen Beetles, Ford Pintos and AMC Pacers.
Maybe it was so busy that someone had to direct traffic. Before they parked, couples probably took a number like customers at a deli.
I could just imagine Meat Loaf’s “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” blaring from a cacophony of 8-track tape players.
“And we’re glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife. Glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife.”
I didn’t own a car. Just a 10-speed bicycle. That probably wasn’t allowed. Was it? Maybe there was a special section for bicyclists on lover’s lane.
Surely my generation wasn’t the first to discover it. As a country lane that dated back to the 1800s, it seemed feasible that our ancestors used to park their buggies and wagons there after a long day of milking cows and churning butter.
I recall reading a Beacon Journal article about a young couple who had planned to help two inmates escape from the Akron Workhouse on Cuyahoga Street. They were feeling frisky and had time to spare so they parked on Peck Road.
Well, one thing led to another.
The inmates hacked their way to freedom through two wire fences, but they couldn’t find the getaway car, so they fled into the woods. Meanwhile, police discovered the would-be accomplices locked in a romantic embrace.
The couple had lost track of time. Aw, Peck Road.
Officers apprehended the fugitives and charged the lovers with complicity. A great escape foiled.
Night visit to Peck Road
During my senior year at North High, I finally made it to Peck Road. My mother generously let me borrow her 1972 Chevy Nova, although I’m pretty sure I left out a few details.
I believe it was after the senior picnic in high school. Or maybe it was after senior flick day, the unofficial holiday where I ruined three years of perfect attendance to hang out with other rule breakers.
At any rate, the festivities concluded that night on Peck Road.
It was dark when I drove past the houses near the corner of Cuyahoga Street and carefully maneuvered along the rutted road. Back, back, back, back I traveled, creeping forward to the dead end.
Alas, the passenger seat was empty. I knew I was forgetting something.
My headlights shined on dozens of parked cars. On this night, I had scheduled a rendezvous with several girls. And quite a few guys, too.
Members of our class were having a street party on Peck Road. There must have been 30 or 40 teens there.
I’m not sure. Like I said, it was dark.
Most of the cool kids were present. How did I make the cut? I’ll never know. Maybe I was cooler than I thought.
The party was well underway. I have a vivid recollection of a girl swigging from a bottle of beer, silhouetted in the glow of headlights as Rush’s “The Spirit of Radio” blasted from a car stereo.
“Invisible airwaves crackle with life,” singer Geddy Lee wailed. “Bright antennae bristle with the energy.”
At that moment, it felt good to be young and alive.
And then two late-arriving girls drove into a ditch off the pitch-black road.
Their wheels spun uselessly. That car was stuck.
Unexpected visitors at party
A bunch of us tried to rock the vehicle back and forth, but it wouldn’t budge.
That’s when we noticed another late-arriving car pull up behind us. The headlights were blinding.
Two policemen stepped out of the cruiser.
Ohhhh, noooo.
One officer explained that a Peck Road resident had called to report a lot of suspicious traffic that evening. The cops were just checking it out.
“Why are you kids out here?”
One of my quick-thinking classmates explained that we were merely there to get the car out of the ditch.
“All of you are here to get a car out of a ditch?”
Yeah, we wouldn’t have believed that story either. The officers radioed for a tow truck to pull the car out of the ditch and then politely suggested that we vacate the premises.
The party was over.
No one got hurt. No one got arrested. It was great to be a teenager.
That was my first and last night on Peck Road. It wasn’t everything I imagined it would be, but I’ll never forget it.
Farewell to Peck Road
Over the years, Peck Road has changed.
The last remaining houses were demolished. The street sign came down. Peck became a part of the Chuckery Area of Cascade Valley Metro Park.
That whole area, including the Signal Tree, has been closed to the public since 2023 as the EPA prepares to demolish the Gorge Dam to improve the water quality of the Cuyahoga River. Construction is expected to last a few more years.
The lover’s lane is a thing of a past — as far as I know.
If any EPA contractors plan to park there at night, they should be wary. Police may crash the party.
Mark J. Price can be reached at mprice@thebeaconjournal.com
This article originally appeared on Akron Beacon Journal: Peck Road was for lovers, or so I heard | Mark J. Price
Reporting by Mark J. Price, Akron Beacon Journal / Akron Beacon Journal
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By Mark J. Price, Akron Beacon Journal | USA TODAY Network
