We headed out of the Arby's and fueled up at a station nearby. Boone had been on the phone with Dale, and commented to me, "They've only went about 15 miles since we've been here at this stop! I don't know what is going on with them!"
"Should we wait for them then?" I questioned.
"You can wait if you want, but I'm not! They need to get their act together and get moving!"

So we jumped back on I-70 for a wondrously easy 17.8 miles until we arrived at exit 45, our motel was basically around exit 10 or so and my spidey sense is telling me to forgo the route, put thirty-five more miles of interstate under me, and put my head on a pillow. Completing the route has always been a driving force in this game (pun intended), so we took the exit, and successfully followed the route through the small town of Greenville Illinois. We arrived on Illinois 140 West at 190.6 miles into the trip.
"Read that to me again Rachael, something isn't right!"
"Turn left for I-255 South, and it says 193.7 next to it", she affirmed again, clearly not happy that I had questioned her ability to read the sheet.
"Look it up on your phone, this is definitely wrong!" I added.
Illinois 140 is a dark, lonely, two lane cow path, and we were looking for a junction with an interstate, not Illinois 255, or US 255, a full blown interstate, so I wasn't worried that we had missed it, I was just wondering how far it really was.

Meanwhile, Boone was dealing with a tired, frustrated, ex-trucker riding shotgun, who kept losing his temper with each turn and each mile! "Why the heck are they running us this far out of route? This is going to be 30 or 40 miles...this is just stupid!" Dad yelled at him, wringing his hands.
"Dad, it's their game, their route, we can't do anything about it."
Fourteen miles later, I passed a small junction with Illinois 160, and Dad got fired up again. "Why didn't he take that? Dave should've turned there, that would've saved us a bunch of miles." Boone's teeth were grating, and he just bit his tongue, arguing at this point would be futile!

Finally I saw the lights of a major Interstate ahead, but Rachael shot me down, "That's I-55, we have to go further for 255", She stated glumly.

Dad really lost it when I drove under I-55, "The 55 and the 255 practically run together in front of the motel, so we're driving another ten miles for nothing! What the heck is he doing!" Dad screamed out the window.
"He's following the route dad", Boone offered. I will refrain from posting Dad's retort, what with this being a family site and all...