I finished the 2,448-mile drive before I had even started it.
“End” read the Route 66 sign on Jackson Boulevard in downtown Chicago.
I circled the block — a second attempt. Gobs of tourists, double-parked cars, dogs on retractable leashes and kids glued to their gadgets streamed in and out of view. Amid the chaos, I searched for a plain brown square, an arrow pointing west. “Begin” read the Route 66 sign on Adams Street.I bounced in my car seat and did as I was told: I began.
-Washington Post
