The interchange between US-40 and I-70 was one of those confusing B shaped deals in which the entrance and exit for a certain direction of travel is on the same side. Apparently with the plethora of Garmins and smart phones today, the ability to read street signs is in serious decline. A semi got between the Satellite and the Gremlin as I left the Pilot, so James didn't see which way I entered, and with two people in the car, and a fifty-fifty shot at getting it right, they promptly took off down I-70 East!

Boone called to warn them, and texted Dale as well, but both were ignored, all while Dad was starting a tirade about it in the Truck with him. Darren blissfully followed Boone without a care in the world.

If you are noticing that I'm switching up my usual 1st person account with some third person reporting, it's because I've chosen to stay more chronologically based, and this section of the trip got convoluted in a hurry, forgive me for taking some liberties.

Rachael and I were easing down I-70 at 3000 rpm, nearing the Illinois state line when Boone first called me and let me know about the Gremlin's mistake.
"Dad says it's fourteen miles to the next turnaround, and Dale said they were going to try to find a cross-over in the median."
"Do we need to pull over and wait?" I asked.
"Naw, just take it easy, and we'll see what happens. He decided.

Dale and James got turned around through the center median 5 miles down the road, and headed back west. Dale told James to step up the speed a bit over what they had comfortably been running before, and promptly began dozing off again, only waking up enough to talk to Boone when he called to check on them.

While Rachael and I forged ahead, Boone and Dad, along with Darren in tow, hit the rest area just 8 miles into Illinois, but were still ahead of James when they got back on the road. A call to Dale the first time, made Boone believe he was only 4 miles behind them, 20 minutes later a second call was more confusing, as he was giving them mile marker numbers that made no sense. Boone's frustration with waiting up for a car that is barely roadworthy and has to stop for fuel every forty miles was wearing on him, and he tried to just ignore the situation and keep moving forward! Click, click, click, the line of dominoes was picking up speed!