Pontiac at Last!

Twilight, again. Another ending. No matter how perfect the day is, it always has to end.

--Stephanie Meyer, Twilight

First advertisement for Meramec Caverns on Route 66

Look! The sign on that old barn is the first of many advertisements for Meramec Caverns, one of the most famous attractions on The Route, which is still 285 miles down the road. The barn billboard itself is a 66 Roadside Attraction, as indicated by the small blue sign to the left of the fence.

A few miles farther, we see the Old Log Cabin Restaurant at the junction of Historic Route 66 and Aurora Street, which signals the turnoff to Pontiac. The last dregs of light fade from the horizon, and the streets blacken as we finally arrive in town.

But the day is not done until we find a place to stay for the night.

Our lodging choices on The Route do not look promising as we cruise through town on Historic Route 66.

Even in the gathering darkness, the Fiesta Motel looks like it has seen better days. Plus, the TripAdvisor reviews are mixed at best. One reviewer claims that “the hotel appears to be the long-term lodging for several families, which give the motel an especially sketchy vibe.” We agree—and keep driving.

As we continue along The Route, we see The Palamar Motel south of downtown near the access road to I-55. What a disappointment to see the place looking so shabby—and scary. The Palamar was once a thriving establishment, its huge neon sign beckoning countless weary travelers like us driving the Mother Road. In the motel’s heyday, Saturday night crowds packed the adjacent supper club, swinging to the sound of the big bands. The bar was also a popular half-way watering-hole for politicians who commuted between Springfield and Chicago on Route 66. Not anymore. Somebody needs to dream big to bring this place back to life.

No wonder the National Trust for Historic Preservation has collectively placed classic Route 66 lodgings like The Palamar Motel on the list of America’s most endangered historic places. Too many of these national treasures are succumbing to poor maintenance; plus, demolishing and redeveloping ramshackle properties is often cheaper than renovating.  In addition, most are independently owned and simply cannot compete with hotel chains, which offer more amenities and loyalty-program benefits.

Tonight, however, we are left to pick from the hotel chains. Super8? No way—might as well head back to the Fiesta. Comfort Inn? Mixed reviews, so no thanks. The Best Western will have to do. Hope I can stay awake long enough to write my postcards!

Dwight's "Star" Attraction

Ever poised on that cusp between past and future, we tie memories to souvenirs like string to trees along life's path, marking the trail in case we lose ourselves around a bend of tomorrow's road.

--Susan Lendroth

As we approach the Village of Dwight, I-55 bends gracefully away from Route 66 to the west. Meanwhile, we've made three awkward turns--a right and two lefts--just to stay on The Route.

Although Route 66 bypasses Dwight's downtown, this quaint village is "not just another bump in the road"--and it is certainly not to be missed. Even the highway itself pays homage to delightful Dwight, curving around this quintessentially Midwestern town rather than careering through its center. Here, "the touch of dreams/is over all," as Carl Sandburg describes the ideal of the American small town with its picturesque streets, handsome homes, and historic buildings. Even Prince Albert found this town fit for a future king's visit. No wonder Dwight became "the most famous village of its size in America."

For Route 66 enthusiasts, the "star" attraction is the Ambler-Becker service station at the crossroads of Historic 66 and Old 66 on the south edge of town. Built in 1933, Ambler’s Texaco Gas Station, also known as Vernon’s Texaco Station and Becker’s Marathon Gas Station, was one of the first to service travelers on The Route. When it closed in 1999, Ambler's Texaco became the longest continuously operated service station to pump gas on Historic Route 66, serving customers for 66 years, naturally. We saw several old gas pumps in Joliet, but seeing these original antiques standing in front of this beautifully restored roadside attraction is truly impressive.

We park in the lot and get out to admire the station’s design; according to the guidebook, its cottage look with white clapboard siding was purposely styled to be homey and inviting to customers in the 1930s, many of whom were leaving the comforts of home for the first time to explore the country on the new highway. We peek through the door to the main office, remembering the old Coke machines of our past when a dime would buy an ice-cold bottle of Dr. Pepper (my favorite) or Pepsi (T's preference). Of course, when we were kids, everything was a lot less expensive. In those days, there was no such thing as "self-serve," and gasoline cost just 33 cents per gallon!

We also peer into the paned windows of the service bay, a simple circa-1940 concrete block addition to the north side of the original building. The Ford firetruck on the lift looks like it is just as roadworthy as it was in the 1930s. The garage is chock full of vintage antiques, such as the old-fashioned tire pump and gas can on the workbench. The drawings of fancy cars of the 1930s and '40s stenciled on the work cabinet certainly look much more stylish than our 2014 Ford Focus. However, we can hardly imagine driving a vehicle without power steering and brakes, trying to negotiate the twists and turns of the Mother Road. The Route earned its reputation for "Dead Man's" curves.

Like so many of the buildings we have seen so far on Route 66, the Ambler-Becker service station has been given a new life after finally closing up shop in 2002. With the help of a matching grant from the National Park Service’s Route 66 Corridor Preservation Program, the station now serves as a visitor’s center for the Village of Dwight. It was listed in the National Register of Historic Places in 2001. As a harbinger of the future, the EV charging station on the north side of the parking lot promises that the Ambler-Becker station will continue to serve Route 66 travelers for decades to come.

As we prepare to leave, the Old Route 66 Family Restaurant sign across the street beckons us to "follow the Mother Road to good food." TripAdvisor reviews confirm their claim, and we're tempted to find out whether they have a home-cooked antidote for the chicken dinner we suffered at the Polk-A-Dot in Braidwood. But the allure of downtown is too strong, so we decide to discover a bit more about delightful Dwight before the sun goes down. We take a left on Old Route 66, which becomes West Mazon Avenue as we approach the center of town. We admire the large homes, old and new, which line the tree-draped streets. We pass the former C&A Railroad Depot, a splendid example of Richardsonian Romanesque architecture built in 1891. Across the street from the depot sits the former Frank L. Smith Bank, designed by Frank Lloyd Wright in 1905. As we circle around town to the south, we drive by the stately John R. Oughton House (now a restaurant) with its lovely carriage house (now the public library) and Don Quixote-esque windmill built in 1891  by Dwight physician Dr. Leslie Keeley, founder of the world-famous Keeley Institute. The village still has the feel of the therapeutic community it was for the hundreds of thousands of alcoholics who came to Dwight to take the Keeley Cure. Who knew that such a little town could hold so many treasures?

We are reluctant to leave Dwight in the rear-view mirror, but we must press on to Odell. We return to the Ambler-Becker station for one last look before heading southwest on Historic Route 66. As the sun sets, I notice a wind farm to the east; on the western horizon, the ruin of old barns fade into the lengthening shadows. The two images seem poised on the cusp of the past and future.

As we enter Odell, a sign reads "Small town with a big heart where everybody is somebody." The tiny town probably lives up to its great motto, but the streets are deserted as we drive through. We are looking for the old Mobil Station (long closed) with its galloping red-winged horse sign and the historic Odell Standard Oil Station. After spending so much time admiring the Ambler-Beck station, we are less impressed with these remnants of the past: the one with only the sign and a couple of classic cars to keep it from fading into oblivion; and the other in need of another restoration. The ravages of time and weather render the upkeep of these and so many other historic buildings a Sisyphean task.

Yet without such heroic efforts, what would become of the Mother Road?

Godley to Gardner

“The path of memory is neither straight or safe, and we travel down it at our risk.”

--Neil Gaiman, The Tragical Comedy or Comical Tragedy of Mr. Punch

Ironically, the more things change, the more they stay the same on Route 66, especially in the coal-mining country south of Braidwood. These days, the Exelon nuclear power plant dominates the eastern skyline, generating enough electricity to supply more than two million average homes in northern Illinois. The 4,457-acre site was built on land ravaged by strip mines which pocked the area in the late 1800s when coal was king. Some of the scarred land has been reclaimed by the Mazonia/Braidwood State Fish and Wildlife Area south of the generating station; however, the plant's release of radioactive tritium has tainted the groundwater, threatening and endangering many species, including the people who live in this area. The crimes against Nature in these parts will not go unpunished.

The bucolic landscape is strangely desolate along this stretch of Route 66. A few slag heaps mark what little remains of the once thriving coal-mining towns of Godley and Braceville, which barely cling to the map. Near Godley, an old truck sits atop the slag pile of the closed K Mine, and Exelon's cooling lake hides the scars of the defunct Torino, Rickson, and Turin mines. Like Godley, Braceville was once a booming town with many commercial establishments--general stores, banks, restaurants, a hotel, and even an opera house--but they are long gone. South of town, the infamous Riviera Restaurant--a popular watering hole during Prohibition and a favorite hangout of Al Capone in his heyday--now lies in ruins after being destroyed by fire in 2010. 

The passage of time has been kinder to Gardner, which manages to attract visitors with an actual downtown and one well-advertised attraction: an old two-cell jailhouse. Located in city park, the limestone structure was built in 1906 and was still in use until the late 1950s. Today, tourists are encouraged to "go behind bars" for photo ops. Perhaps more notable, though, is the Streetcar Diner next to the jail, a restaurant made from an old horse-drawn streetcar once operated by the Kankakee Transit System. Located behind the Riviera Restaurant for decades, the diner was discovered by the Illinois Route 66 Preservation Committee, restored it to its original appearance, and placed here in the park as a memorial to the Riviera and a reminder of a time gone by. 

These attractions emphasize the temptation to stop everywhere to see everything on Route 66. We are just barely underway, but we have already learned that such an endeavor is utterly impossible. Besides, which attractions represent the "real" Route, the "authentic" Mother Road? Which attractions are genuine artifacts that tell the truth about a place in time, and which ones are commercial advertisements for towns and cities seeking to profit from their proximity to Route 66? The path of memory often blurs this distinction. The risk is that I will follow someone else's path of memory rather than stay true to my dream of The Route, advancing confidently in that direction. Choices must be made, and no guidebook can make them for us.

The Mother Road is what we imagine it to be--and every choice we make along the way.

Once we leave Gardner, we turn onto an original four-lane stretch of Route 66 that runs parallel to a railroad track. Before I-55 was constructed, this section of Route 66 was a divided, four-lane highway; now the northbound lanes of I-55 largely supplant what were the southbound lanes of Route 66. In places, the freeway is just a few yards away, and it is quite unsettling to see traffic hurtling toward us as we head south.

Route 66 south of Gardner, IL

Soon, I-55 bends away from Route 66, exposing the remnants of the old southbound lanes. Access to these abandoned sections is barred by grassy berms or metal guardrails; in many places, patches of vegetation obscure the road surface; in some instances, grass has replaced the roadbed altogether. 

I am mesmerized by this ghost highway, imagining streams of phantom travelers heading west, each with a dream of the open road.

Braidwood's Polk-A-Dot Drive-In

Every time I see my cat licking its asshole I think about my ex wife. But that’s how nostalgia works, right? We only remember the best of the available memories.

--Jarod Kintz, Seriously delirious, but not at all serious

Polk-A-Dot's larger-than-life pop icon greeters

Since 1956, the Polk-A-Dot Drive-In has been a staple on Route 66, serving classic diner fare to locals and travelers alike. Originally located in a rainbow polka-dotted school bus that served lunch from a mini-sized kitchen, the restaurant expanded to the current location, offering a classic fifties drive-in experience. Larger-than-life statues of Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Betty Boop, and The Blues Brothers beckon Route 66 travelers to stop and enjoy a nostalgic blast from the past.

Inside, the dining room features retro decor: black-and-white linoleum floor with matching chrome-trimmed booths, tables, chairs, and swivel stools; Route 66-theme wallpaper; a coin-operated kiddie car; an awesome antique gas pump gumball machine; and numerous photos of pop icons from the fifties and sixties. The women's restroom is plastered with photos of Elvis, including the famous pic of The King in his skivvies for his Army induction physical, which is prominently placed opposite the commode for easy viewing. Nice touch. This place certainly has a lot of charm. No wonder the Polk-A-Dot earns high marks for atmosphere in Yelp! and TripAdvisor reviews.

We peruse the menu boards above the counter, which list a variety of sandwiches (burgers, hot dogs, hoagies, Italian beef, Polish sausage, etc.), sides (fries, hush puppies, onion rings, chili), salads (we usually avoid these at fast-food joints), dinners (fried fish, shrimp, or chicken with your choice of fries, coleslaw, or mashed potatoes and a roll), and ice-cream treats (Arctic Swirl, sundae, float, slushie, banana split). The online food reviews are mixed, so we play it relatively safe by ordering two chicken dinners with coleslaw and mashed potatoes. Can't go too wrong with fried chicken, right?

Antique gas pump gumball machine and kiddie car

When we step up to the counter, we have second thoughts about actually eating here. It's not just the snotty teenager who acts like we are imposing on her by placing our order. No, that's the least of it. The kitchen is full of teenagers who are too busy messing around to notice that the place is a complete disaster area. T and I look at each other, wondering if we should keep driving. Hunger pangs get the best of us, however, forcing us to accept the risk of food poisoning. Seriously.

As I nervously wait for our food at our cozy booth, I admire the tabletop jukebox. The turnstile features many of the greatest hits from the fifties and sixties, such as "California Dreamin'," by The Mamas & the Papas; "That'll Be the Day," by Buddy Holly; and "Do You Know the Way to San Jose," by Dionne Warwick. I would insert a quarter to play a tune, but the music in the background is already a bit too loud.

When our food arrives, it's just as bad as I had feared. The chicken is over-fried (yes, it's possible), which has rendered the scraps of  meat left on the bones tough and greasy. Both of us can tell that the fryer oil hasn't been changed in quite a while, so we pick off as much of the breading as possible. The coleslaw is bland, wilted, and a bit too warm, so let's just put that Styrofoam salmonella incubator off to the side with the pile of nasty breading. The pasty mashed potatoes taste like they came straight from a box, and the gravy has way too much salt. No doubt about it: This chicken dinner officially qualifies as one of the worst meals ever. We should have ordered burger baskets.

On a positive note, I'm glad we didn't order the chili-cheese fries, which look like they should be served with a side of antacid--or an anti-diarrheal.

However, we can't leave without giving the ice cream a try. After all, this is a drive-in. Both of us order a Choco Cherry Arctic Swirl. It is delicious--and much better than the comparable Choco Cherry Love Blizzard served at Dairy Queen. The vanilla ice cream is creamy, chock full of large, whole cherries, and mixed with just the right amount of chocolate. Yum! Turns out that redemption can be served in a Styrofoam cup, too.

Wilmington's Gemini Giant

“What seems real one moment is fiction the next
and gone out of existence the moment after that.
Nostalgia is the greatest enemy of truth,
and change our only constancy.”

― David Budbill, Judevine: The Complete Poems, 1970-1990

Gemini Giant at Launching Pad Drive-In

The Dow chemical plant announces the approach of Wilmington, home of the Gemini Giant. Entering town from the north, the huge fiberglass statue greets Route 66 travelers at the historic Launching Pad Drive-In. Originally named the Dari Delite, the restaurant opened in 1960, selling only hot dogs and ice cream. In 1965, owner John Korelc expanded the menu and changed the name to Launching Pad Drive-In, presumably to honor Project Gemini, NASA's second manned spaceflight program (1965-66), which completed the first American spacewalk, plus missions long enough to support a future trip to the moon and back.

Why not honor the historic achievements of the time by putting a giant space man in your parking lot? Korelc obviously thought this would be a great idea, and so have countless of travelers on Route 66 just like us who have stopped here since the sixties.

Gemini Giant is one of a few hundred remaining "Muffler Men" stationed along Route 66 to attract travelers' attention and advertise a host of products and services. International Fiberglass, Inc. manufactured thousands of these commercial statues in the 1960s and '70s, customizing a single statue mold for various retailers and selling additional eye-catching accessories, such as mammoth mufflers and gigantic golf clubs. Clad in his green flight suit and silver space helmet, Gemini Giant is certainly an attention-getter on East Baltimore Street, especially with that rocket in his hands!  

Launching Pad Drive-In waits for a dreamer to awaken

Alas! The Gemini Giant has withstood the test of time better than the Launching Pad itself. We don't see a For Sale sign, but we suspect that the property is on the market: There's no greeting or daily special listed on the marquee; no cars are parked in the lot. Letters have fallen off the sign on the storefront. We circle the shabby exterior, looking in the windows to see what we can of this iconic restaurant. The interior looks clean and ready for customers, but it exudes the feeling of the mock drive-in at the Route 66 Experience in Joliet: plenty to see from the outside looking in through a window to the past, but closed to a real experience in the present.

Nostalgia is like that.

While we are ruminating on the constancy of change, a car pulls up in the lot. Our suspicion about the restaurant holds true: The driver is a Realtor, and he is here to assess the property to list on the market. We strike up a conversation about the status of the place. He tells me about the restaurant's struggles during the past few years, and I offer some suggestions for making it viable once again. I point out that the custom-made tables alone, featuring the Gemini Giant and a map of Route 66, are worth a fortune to 66 collectors but are priceless icons as fixtures of this hallowed historic shrine.

Custom-made Route 66-theme dining tables

The Realtor admits that he didn't realize Route 66 is such a big deal because he's lived in the area all of his life. I suggest that he contact the Illinois Route 66 Association and the National Route 66 Federation for help with marketing the business to someone with a rocket of a dream that needs a launching pad. He expresses his appreciation for fresh ideas regarding how to bring this iconic establishment back to life on the Mother Road. Sometimes all it takes is a conversation to initiate the change you wish to see in the world. 

On our way out of town, we wish that we could stop at some of the other attractions in Wilmington that are described in the guidebook: the Eagle Hotel (100 Water Street), which has been catering to travelers by riverboat, stagecoach, and automobile since 1836; the Mar Theatre (121 S. Main Street), which has been showing first-run movies since 1937; and the historic downtown, which is full of antique shops and good restaurants, such as Hayden's Crossing, Michelle's Restaurant, and Nelly's on Rt. 66.

We're getting hungry, but we decide to press on to Braidwood, which is another five miles down the road. Like countless travelers of Route 66 who have come before us, at least we stopped to meet Wilmington's most famous resident: the Gemini Giant.

Joliet's Kicks on 66

If you ever plan to motor west,
Travel my way, take the highway that is best.
Get your kicks on Route sixty-six.

--Bobby Troup

After our brief excursion to childhood, we continue cruising The Strip through Berwyn, blithely missing the turn for Route 66 at Harlem Avenue. Instead of continuing straight into Lyons, Route 66 makes a dogleg at the very busy intersection of Ogden and Harlem avenues, merging briefly with Illinois 43 before turning southwest onto Joliet Road. We know this now after several missteps. How did anyone ever make it to California?

We finally enter Lyons, where California Auto Service is a hopeful harbinger of our ultimate destination. In ultra-industrial McCook, the old Skyline Motel languishes in disrepair, but time-honored McCook Bohemian-American Family Restaurant still looks lively; Steak N Egger now occupies the site of Snuffy's Restaurant, a former 66 icon. The Route takes us by the enormous McCook Quarry, fortunately not via the original route, now abandoned, which spanned the 650-acre limestone pit. We drive by the insta-classic Willow Hills Restaurant & Pancake House next to 66 Tire & Auto in Countryside, then through Indian Head Park, past the old Wolf's Head Inn. In Willowbrook, we pass Del Rhea's Chicken Basket, a 66 mainstay at mile marker 274 since 1938. 

Approaching the first fork in the road

Winding through the suburbs on Joliet Road, Route 66 shows its age. The Route traces the earliest known road connecting Chicago and St. Louis, which was originally a well-worn Native American trail, then a stagecoach road that was renamed "Pontiac Trail" in 1915. Route 66 follows much of the Pontiac Trail, stitching together as many towns and cities as possible on its ziggedy-zaggedy way to St. Louis. 

At Darien, Route 66 merges with I-55 for a few miles. The need for speed straightens out this stretch of the route for commuters between Illinois' two state capitals, Chicago and Springfield. We have a choice: Do we want to remain on I-55, the newest alignment of Route 66, which will whisk us lickety-split to Springfield; or do we want to take Exit 268 onto the 1926 alignment of Route 66, a two-laner that will take us through all of the small towns bypassed by the freeway? 

Looks like we won't make Springfield by nightfall.

Exit 268 takes us into Bolingbrook, past Montana Charlie's Flea Market and large industrial parks. In Romeoville, we drive by White Fence Farm (famous for its chicken dishes since the 1920s), Mongo McMichael's banquet facility, Historic Route 66 Plaza, and Eggman's Omelets. Road construction and heavy traffic make for very slow going, giving us a sense of what Route 66 would have been like during the peak travel months before I-55 provided a faster alternative route.

The congested suburban roadway finally gives way to more open countryside. We pass Historic Fitzpatrick House and Gaylord Building Historic site. In the distance, we can see the I&M Canal, which helped establish Chicago as the transportation hub of the United States in the 1800s; now the canal only flows into history as a National Historic Landmark. We admire the bucolic grassland of Prairie Bluff Preserve. Adjacent to the preserve, Stateville Prison sulks on the hillside just outside of Joliet.

When we finally reach Joliet, it’s already 3:00 p.m., and we have traveled only 63 miles! It’s definitely time for ice cream, so we stop at Rich & Creamy on the edge of town for a soft-serve cone. Thanks, Tom! The cone is just as delicious as you said it would be in the guidebook. Typical of the ice cream stores that used to dot Route 66 in its heyday, Rich & Creamy is a popular spot, especially after being restored to its original retro appearance--with the exception of The Blues Brothers, Jake and Elwood, dancing on the rooftop!

As we enjoy our cones, we stroll through adjacent Route 66 Park to stretch our legs, admire the eclectic selection of public art, and browse the informational exhibits and kiosks that highlight Route 66 attractions throughout the city, including murals, sculptures, mosaics, antique replica gas pumps, and classic architecture, such as the "Jewel of Joliet." Obviously, Joliet's city leaders understand the national significance of Route 66 and have carefully planned for the thousands of travelers just like us from throughout the United States and the world who make driving Route 66 their ultimate destination.

The kiosks plot a journey through the city, beginning here at Route 66 Park, continuing with a stop at the Route 66 Experience in the Joliet Area Historical Museum and Route 66 Welcome Center in downtown, and concluding with a list of reasons to stay in town: a first-run show at the elegantly restored Rialto Square Theatre; a tour of Union Station or the stately Victorian Jacob Henry Mansion; or perhaps a motorsport event at the Chicagoland Speedway or Route 66 Raceway.

On our way to the Route 66 Welcome Center, we have to stop at Dick’s Towing down the street for a photo op.  The old cars, 66 signs, and auto parts littering the yard make Dick's look more like a museum or sculpture garden than a working business. Is that Dick waving from the front window? Looks like a nice guy. The vintage Packard and Chevrolet are reminders of the good old days when Route 66 was a busy highway that supplied plenty of business for garages with tow trucks. A hand-lettered sign on the 1950 Pontiac Silver Streak perched on the rooftop reads "California or bust." Yes, indeed!

We park downtown and walk to the Route 66 Welcome Center. On the way, we encounter our first Illinois Route 66 Scenic Byway Experience Hub, a 9-foot kiosk with interpretive panels that tell the story of Route 66 in the region and provide information about local attractions and how to find them. Did you know that Joliet played a role in the 1980 movie classic The Blues Brothers? The adventure begins when "Joliet" Jake is released from the Joliet Prison and is picked up by his brother, Elwood, who was named for the next town to the south. No wonder there are so many Blues Brothers sculptures around town. With the press of a button, we hear Bobby Troup sing his song "Route 66." Of course, we get our kicks by singing along. What a cool kiosk!

Located at the crossroads of Route 66 and Lincoln Highway, the Joliet Area Historical Museum and Route 66 Welcome Center is definitely worth the visit. Here, Route 66 is immortalized as the Main Street of America in stories, songs, art, and collectibles. Burma-Shave signs and Roadside Giants remind visitors of how the Mother Road was and continues to be a powerful driver of commercialized American culture and an engine of economic opportunity fueled by the American Dream. 

The Route 66 Experience offers free, interactive exhibits for children and adults alike. We act more like adolescents, sitting back and watching a movie at the mock drive-in theater; jumping in the Corvette and ordering a meal at the mock drive-in diner; and settling into a room at the mock Route 66 Motel and watching an episode of Rt. 66 on a real, old-fashioned television. We especially enjoy visiting the gift shop, which stocks a wide array of faboo 66 merchandise. As we pay for our purchases, we ask the friendly clerk to share some of her favorite 66 adventures. (Hint: We can hardly wait to visit Funks Grove and Devils Elbow.) On our way out the door, we stock up on free pamphlets and brochures that describe what's ahead on The Route. 

We would love to spend the night in Joliet and experience more Kicks on 66, but we still have 2,383 miles of highway ahead of us!

Reluctantly, we leave Joliet in the rear-view mirror, passing the Chicago Speedway and Route 66 Raceway. What's that unidentified flying object in the parking lot of 66 Food and Fuel? It's The Blues Brothers’ Plymouth cop cruiser hoisted on a pole with Elwood at the wheel and Jake riding shotgun in perpetuity! Yep.

We drive under the I-80 overpass, crawling along in heavy truck traffic again. We pass another quarry, then miles of cornfields on both sides of the road until we reach Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery nestled in the grassland on the outskirts of Elwood. We drive by the Sukup silos of Prairie Creek Terminal Services and Grain Company, which mark the skyline of tiny Marshland, then past Jim German's Vegetables roadside stand. Flocks of sheep graze in the roadside pastures.

Hard to believe that Chicago's skyscrapers rise into the clouds just beyond the horizon line.

Cruising the Strip in Berwyn

Childhood: the period of human life intermediate between the idiocy of infancy and the folly of youth — two removes from the sin of manhood and three from the remorse of age.

--Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary

From Adams Street, Route 66 turns south onto Ogden Avenue, a wide thoroughfare that makes a beeline through the suburbs of South Chicago. As we cruise the Strip, we note the colorful murals in Lawndale, an enormous rail yard in Cicero, and famous 66 landmarks like Lulu's Hot Dogs and Henry's Drive-In--both still serving the top dogs in Chicagoland since the fifties.

A seagull flies overhead just above the roof of the car, insisting on our attention. I recall the image of the gulls bobbing on the lake in the marina, and I realize that Seagull is offering to be a totem guide for our journey: a spiritual messenger encouraging us to go with the flow, be open to different viewpoints, and communicate our experience.

A light rain is falling. A white mist shrouds the scenery as if we are entering another dimension. It feels like we are driving through a dream, or back in time. 

In Berwyn, I notice a prime example of Art Deco architecture on the corner of Ogden and Wenonah Avenue. The large neon sign reads Berwyn's Toys & Trains. It would probably be a good idea to walk off breakfast at Lou Mitchell's, so we stop for a photo op. We park on Wenonah and amble up to the nifty Route 66 historical marker near the front entrance on Ogden. I take some photos of the handsome building and its wall murals. I am so captivated by this little treasure chest that I have to have a peek inside. 

Berwyn's Toys & Trains

Remember when you just couldn't wait to see what Santa Claus left you under the Christmas tree? Well, here's where Santa stores all of that loot during the rest of the year. This store stocks everything from marbles to massive train sets.

The store is like a time machine, transporting me back to my childhood. There on a rack is the six-shooter and holster I wore as a six-year-old cowgirl; there on a shelf sit plush toys of my favorite storybook characters, Curious George and Madeline. 

An entire aisle of plastic model kits conjures the smell of glue and the feel of sticky fingers which pieced together several cars, ships, and airplanes. Another whole aisle stocks Barbie dolls, play-sets, playhouses, cars, and clothes galore (which I used to drool over); they even have the vintage Mercedes-Benz convertible that drove my Barbie and Ken around on many dates. 

Racks of Hot Wheels and balsam gliders, jars of catseyes and shooters, and shelves of Legos and Lincoln Logs evoke happy days playing with my kid brother. The aisle of Breyer Animal Creations reminds me of the love my sister and I shared for horses and our bookshelf stables of Breyer equine beauties. The shelves of board games (Checkers, Parcheesi, Chutes and Ladders, Clue, Monopoly, Scrabble) conjure fun-filled game nights with family and friends.

This place is like a museum—only better because you're encouraged to touch everything!

But that's not all. Entering the Train Room is like boarding The Polar Express. This room contains the toys that I only dreamed about as a child: electric trains. The walls are stocked with everything a young engineer needs to get a railroad up and running: engines, rolling stock, buildings, and countless accessories. Floor-to-ceiling shelves showcase a full product line of O Gauge and H.O. Electric Trains. 

The centerpiece is the 25-foot model train layout with passenger and freight trains chugging on separate tracks through Woodland Scenics to Plasticville USA, which is populated with Arttista Figures. The layout looks much like the one my sister’s husband built in the basement of their duplex back in the sixties. Just as I was back then, I am mesmerized by this idyllic scale-model world, watching the trains go ‘round and ‘round with timepiece perfection.

This is what the Mother Road is all about: a trip through time, reliving the important milestones of our lives.

“We should probably get back on the road,” T says, dispelling my reverie.

On our way out, I speak with the owner, Larry, who is seated behind the cash register.

"It's like a museum!" I say, recounting with enthusiasm some of the many items that returned me to yesteryear.

"Well, everything is for sale," he gently reminds me.

Larry also tells me that Berwyn's Toys & Trains is a family owned toy and hobby shop, which has been located in Berwyn since 1992. The original location was on Harlem Avenue, but since 1998 they have occupied this historic building in the Route 66 district. The Art Deco structure was originally one of 43 Chevy dealerships along Ogden Avenue in the 1950s; from 1950 to 1998, the dealership stocked many of the same car models that are now sold as plastic model kits.

I ask if he is a member of the Illinois Route 66 Association, which might be able to help him market his store as a 66 landmark. He isn’t even aware of the organization, so I give him the Web address for the association. Before we leave, I hand Larry a $10 bill.

“What’s this for?” he asks.

"Museum admission."

The Many Veils of The Mother Road

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

--T.S. Eliot, "Little Gidding," Four Quartets

You would think that the beginning of the most famous highway in America would be easy to find, but it's not. We are learning this the hard way as we drive around the Loop with Snyder's Route 66 Traveler's Guide and Roadside Companion in one hand and our atlas in the other, circling downtown in search of the definitive start. 

From its very outset, The Mother Road is shrouded with ambiguity.

If you’re looking for the original starting point when the highway was commissioned in 1926, that’s located at the “Historic Route Illinois US 66 END” sign on Jackson Boulevard, a few yards from the intersection at Michigan Avenue (formerly US 41). This sign marks the route’s original westbound alignment before Jackson Boulevard became an eastbound one-way west of Michigan Avenue in 1955.

If you’re looking for the official starting point, that’s two blocks east on two-way Jackson Drive at the entrance of Grant Park on Lake Shore Drive (currently US 41). The highway’s terminus, along with US 41, was moved to this location in 1933 when Jackson Boulevard was extended eastward onto land reclaimed for the Chicago World’s Fair.[i] There’s no sign here, just the lake itself marking the beginning and end of the road.

However, there’s also an unofficial starting point, as indicated on most maps, which is located at the “Historic Route Illinois US 66 BEGIN” sign on Adams Street, a few yards from the intersection at Michigan Avenue. Why “unofficial”? Route 66 never began on Adams and technically still doesn’t; The Route starts at the intersection of Jackson and US 41 and always has. 

But when Jackson became an eastbound one-way west of Michigan Avenue in 1955, the two-block section of Jackson east of Michigan Avenue remained a two-way street. Since then, Route 66 has made a half-block jog northbound on Michigan before continuing on one-way westbound Adams Street. 

Confused yet? Yeah, me too.

If you're not a stickler for historical details and want to save a lot of time, then bypass the two-block section on East Jackson Drive and the half-block jog on Michigan Avenue. Begin your westward journey with straightforward simplicity on Adams Street.

As you dodge traffic, chances are very likely that you won’t even notice the other unofficial starting point located at the end of the block on Adams, which is marked by a sign that reads “Illinois US 66 Historic Route Begins.” Supposedly, it's found near the staircase leading to the L platform, but we can't see it from the street.

After circling around downtown for the better part of an hour searching for a clear-cut beginning to Route 66, I have reached the conclusion that we probably won't find it. To resolve the ambiguity in my mind and temper T's frustration behind the wheel, I have decided to create my own starting point for our journey: the lakeshore. Since our trek will end at the Pacific Ocean, it seems fitting to begin our trip at Lake Michigan.

Turning left on Wabash, we circle around to Jackson Boulevard one more time and head back toward the lake. On East Jackson Drive, we cross Michigan Avenue and Columbus Drive, stopping at the light on Lake Shore. To our right is Buckingham Fountain, the lovely landmark for the official starting point of Route 66. Traffic is heavy on Lake Shore Drive, so crossing several lanes is difficult when the light changes.

Just down the road, we turn into the entrance of the Chicago Yacht Club at Monroe Harbor, the closest access to Lake Michigan from Grant Park. There’s no place to park, so we pull up to a yellow curb. I jump out of the car to look for a suitable place to conduct my kick-off ceremony. 

Lakefront Trail is busy with runners and walkers, so I have an audience for my sacred ritual. I place my ceremonial items on the concrete retaining wall: two small plastic bags, one holding tobacco and the other containing yellow cornmeal. Gulls are bobbing on the turquoise water of the placid lake; soft gray clouds blanket the sky. I offer a pinch of tobacco to each of the seven directions to open communication with the Divine, dropping the golden-brown strands into the water. 

I then offer pinches of cornmeal with gratitude to our Travel Angels, asking them to bless, guide, support, and protect us on our journey from the shore of Lake Michigan to the Pacific Ocean. The cornmeal forms a thin yellow sheen on the surface of the water. I bless the lake; I bless the ocean; I bless the elementals, plants, animals, and people that we will encounter along the way. I bless our vehicle and the route we will travel. I bless T; I bless our family; I bless myself. I offer blessing upon blessing until I feel the ceremony is complete. 

I'm now ready to begin our journey with a clearer sense of direction. No more circles.

From the lakeshore, we retrace our tracks through Grant Park on East Jackson Drive, and then turn right on Michigan Avenue, merging left into the steady stream of traffic. When we reach The Art Institute of Chicago a half block north, we turn left to head west on Adams Street. The “Historic Route Illinois US 66 BEGIN” sign appears on the left about 25 yards from the corner of Michigan Avenue. 

We have arrived where we started, and I am a bit wiser for all of our exploring, for I now know this place for the first time as one of multiple beginnings. T double parks so that I can jump out and snap some photos. 

While I pose for a selfie with my iPhone, someone with a lilting Australian accent asks,

“Would you like us to take your picture?” 

A couple in their thirties stands a few feet from the sign. She is holding a fancy digital camera; he flashes a friendly smile.

"No, thanks,” I reply. “I’m happy with my selfies, but I would be delighted to take your picture."

She hands me the camera, and I snap some photos of the couple in front of the sign, including one with the skyscrapers in the background rising into the clouds. When I return the camera, we start conversing. 

The couple is from Perth, Australia, and they have just finished driving Route 66 from Santa Monica. They have stopped here to commemorate the end of their weeks-long journey, which happens to be at the very same moment that I have paused at this spot to mark the beginning of ours. What synchronicity! 

I don't mention that the actual ending is on Jackson, and they don't remind me that the true beginning is on Jackson, too.

The woman's blazing blue eyes have seen many sights along the way, I’m sure, so I ask if they would like to share one of their peak experiences on The Route. Much to my surprise, their favorite part of the journey actually took place at home in Australia. They prepared for their adventure by watching videos together of Scottish comedian Billy Connolly, who had made a series of hysterically funny TV shows on driving Route 66—on a tricycle! They giggle as they describe a couple of their favorite episodes. 

A friend had also given them a helpful list of things to do and see, plus some places to avoid, on The Route. They don’t offer to share the list, maybe so they won’t spoil our adventure by influencing our choices. As our conversation concludes, they point to the other Route 66 sign at the end of the block, which they suggest I photograph, too. We bid each other farewell, and I jump back into the car.

We drive slowly to the end of the block and stop at the corner of Wabash. The sign is not visible from the street, so I get out and hail a man standing by the wrought-iron fence surrounding the stairway to the L.

“Hi there! Do you know where the Route 66 sign is?” I ask.

“Sure do. It’s right over there,” he says, pointing to a sign tucked away near the stairwell.

I thank him and take a few pictures of the sign, then turn around to greet him properly.

“My name is Clifford,” he says with a big, bright smile. “Glad to meet you.”

We strike up a conversation about Route 66. While we chat, I notice that his coffee cup is half full of coins and a few dollar bills. I tell him that we are just getting underway and point to the car where T waits patiently, double parked with emergency lights flashing, in the busy street. He is happy for us and offers a soulful benediction for our trip. I am so grateful for his blessing! I feel like my lakeside ceremony has manifested our first Travel Angel as Clifford, ambassador of the Route 66 sign on the corner of Adams and Wabash.

"May I take a picture of the two of us in front of the sign?" I ask. 

Clifford happily agrees, and the two of us pose with big smiles for a selfie.

Clifford the Travel Angel

"I love you," I tell him as I put a dollar in his paper cup.

"I love you, too," he replies. Our eyes meet in momentary communion.

I quickly return to the car, and we continue on our way. I can still feel the love.

---

[i] Route 66 played a central role in the Century of Progress International Exhibition, the World’s Fair held in Chicago to celebrate the city’s centennial. As one of the nation’s principal east-west arteries, Route 66 was as much a symbol of progress as the “dream cars” exhibited at the fair by American automobile manufacturers: Cadillac’s V-16 limousine, Lincoln’s rear-engine “concept car,” the Pierce Silver Arrow, and the Packard V-12, which won best of show. By year’s end, Route 66 also became one of the few fully paved interstate highways in the United States, bringing more than 22 million visitors to Chicago by the time the World’s Fair closed on November 1, 1933.

"Welcome! We're glad you're here." --Uncle Lou

This is a benchmark breakfast restaurant; the kind of place you pray you’ll find as you drive through small-town America.

—American Way Magazine  

Lou Mitchell's on Jackson Boulevard

Did someone say “breakfast”? That’s why we are looking for Lou Mitchell’s Restaurant & Bakery, the best breakfast eatery on the Loop since 1923. Located at 565 Jackson Boulevard, Lou Mitchell’s is the first major stop on Route 66, though it’s only a few hundred yards from the Mother Road’s original start on Jackson and old US 41 (Michigan Avenue). 

You can’t miss the place. The huge marquee with Lou Mitchell's signature inscribed in red cursive neon on the storefront touts the restaurant's claim to fame: "Serving the world's finest coffee." Another illuminated sign on the façade boasts, "We do our own Quality baking." A third signboard shouts "SELECTED NO 1 BREAKFAST & LUNCH RESTAURANT IN AMERICA" from the rooftop. Every guidebook mentions the establishment as a must-stop attraction—and for good reason: Breakfast at Lou Mitchell’s is better than any description.

Since 1923, Lou Mitchell’s has been serving “American Traditional Coffee Shop Diner” cuisine. The establishment was already one of the most popular eateries on the Loop by the time Route 66 was commissioned in 1926, when Jackson Boulevard was the original starting point for westbound traffic. Back then, Lou Mitchell's was located two blocks east on Jackson; founder William Mitchell moved the business to this location in 1949 and named it after his son, Lou. Like most of the classic diners on Route 66, Lou Mitchell's is family-owned and run. Lou eventually took over operations and ran the restaurant well into his seventies. In 1992, he sold the restaurant to his niece, Katherine Thanas, and Lou Mitchell's remains in the Thanas family to this day. 

Entering Lou Mitchell's is like stepping back in time to the Golden Age of Classic American Diners. The restaurant's interior has not been significantly altered since 1949. The dining room retains its original terrazzo flooring and wood wall paneling. The booths have their original wood tables, coat racks, and seats. The Formica counters and individual swivel stools are original, too. Except for new upholstery, bathroom fixtures, and probably an appliance or two, Lou Mitchell's looks the same as it did eight decades ago. Added to the National Register of Historical Places in 2006, Lou Mitchell's is the epitome of the classic American diner as well as a Chicago institution for locals and travelers alike.

If you’re lucky enough to arrive when the line isn’t too long, you’re quickly welcomed by a friendly hostess offering doughnut holes for the gents and junior Milk Duds for the ladies. Within minutes we are seated at a booth near the front where we can survey the décor: a mural of Route 66 landmarks, some highway signage, a couple of hubcaps and other classic car memorabilia, and photos of famous visitors: presidents, mayors, governors, senators, representatives, judges, lawyers, athletes, coaches, clergy, authors, and stars of the stage and screen. No wonder this place is such a "time-honored whistle stop” on the campaign trails of many elected officials. Noisy? Yes, but so are most crossroads of the world.

We are promptly greeted by our waitress, Marina, clad in classic diner waitress attire. Although the restaurant is crammed with people, she is happy to answer my questions about the restaurant and what it's like to work here as if she has all the time in the world.  

"You meet all kinds of people, that's for sure," Marina says about her work. "Where are you from?"

"We're from the Quad Cities, three hours west of here. We're driving Route 66, and this is our first stop," I tell her with gushing enthusiasm. "I've been dreaming about doing this for years, and my dream is finally coming true!" 

Marina studies my face for a moment. I wonder if she's doing one of those spontaneous eye readings that some mystics, disguised as diner waitresses, are known for.

“Do you do meditation, yoga, and all of that stuff?" Marina asks.

.

"Yes," I reply, affirming that I will finally have a steady yoga practice by the end of this year.

"I can tell," she responds. “I’ll be back with coffee.”

Meanwhile, the large menu makes ordering a mouthwatering ordeal. When Marina returns, she waits patiently with her pen poised to write my order on her pad as I deliberate aloud. Belgian waffles? Pancakes? Egg dishes? Omelettes? Breakfast skillets? Too many choices! Finally, I order the Vegetarian Breakfast Skillet (fresh tomato, spinach, mushrooms, onion) with link sausage, breakfast potatoes, and multi-grain toast.

While we wait for our food, we enjoy too many cups of their fine coffee with white swirls of real cream. I brought the road atlas and Snyder’s Route 66 Traveler's Guide and Roadside Companion to review today’s route, but I am too entranced by the horde of people dining around us. I wonder if we’ll see the two motorcyclists in the adjacent booth on The Route today. Sounds like they are speaking German. How many others will be starting their westward journey with us after breakfast this morning?

Veggie Breakfast Skillet with "world's finest coffee"

Within minutes our meals arrive piping hot. Breakfast is a dream. The eggs are light as clouds, the sausage savory, the potatoes just right, and the multi-grain toast is even more scrumptious slathered with marvelous orange marmalade.

The Mother Road truly begins here, where dreams are served in skillets, perfectly prepared to nourish the nomadic spirit.