I bet those people made it more than one night on the route, though. Staying on theme, the walls were dotted with black-and-white photos of road trippers posing with their big, bulky Fords-an homage to those who’d done the route from Chicago to Los Angeles before my mom and I had started eighteen hours prior. It was a Route 66–themed Best Western in Missouri. “And you’re at the hospital now?” My eyes fluttered open, and I took in the hotel room. “Okay … okay.…” She had to be talking to my dad. My mom sat on the edge of the other queen bed and mostly listened. An iPhone blared the sound of an old-timey newsroom telephone, and the bedside lamp flicked on.
