Then, unfortunately, the fine (for December) weather turned. I guess Californians don't know much about Midwest winters.
Freezing conditions set in, and, worse, they found the heater didn't work. "Even our pea coats (both were sea men) didn't suffice, so we bundled up with blankets and took turns driving and sleeping. We passed all the roadside sites, only stopping at cafes for a quick meal at at gas stations to fill the tank.
"For lanes turned to two, the temperature kept dropping and we noticed glass-like frost encapsulated the bushes along the road. Our singing began to fade."
The storm they had found pretty much followed them the entire week.
"We were running out of time and money and regretfully passed by inviting little cabins with neon vacancy signs. We pushed on: Oklahoma City, Albuquerque, Flagstaff, Arizona, and even in Arizona, it didn't warm up. We pushed on: Winona, Kingman, Barstow.
"Racing to get home by Christmas, we finally drove the rust bucket (so that's why they call it a rust bucket) down the Cajon Pass and suddenly the stormy sky opened up to a clear blue and we were happy to be back in California."
Ah, home sweet home, that sunny California.
They still keep in touch, even though one lives on the east coast and the other in California. There was no mention of whether they ever drove Route 66 again.
Quite a Trip. Quite an Experience. --RoadDog