Route 66 can be hard to follow through Chicago and St. Louis. Surrounded now by development, office parks, and malls, these remnants, like the Del Rhea Chicken Basket and Ted Drewes' Frozen Custard, seem disconnected, yet continue to thrive. Others have gone the way of the Coral Court, now closed despite its being on the National Register of Historic Places. Heading west through Oklahoma, Texas, and eastern New Mexico there is an obvious transition between Midwest and West, between land that is arable, lush, and green and land that is grazed and sparsely vegetated. Forests are left behind and trees grow only here and there.
Oil pumps bow with hypnotic regularity, silently counting underground wealth.
Cattle chutes and holding pens are next to the railroad tracks that serve them. Hazy, obstructed views give way to a sky so expansive it seems to level everything beneath it. Even the arc of Route 66 flattens out into a straight line. Towns are often separated by miles of fields and fenced rangeland. Solid brick and stone storefronts face each other across the highway that is their main street.