Pontiac, Illinois, is a courthouse town of around twelve thousand people on the Vermilion River, and for anyone with a soft spot for Route 66 it is something close to a pilgrimage. The old highway slips through the middle of town on Old Route 66, and the people here have made a point of keeping its memory alive, with museums, murals and tidy brick storefronts that make a pleasant stop in the middle of the flat Illinois farmland.
The town is named after the Ottawa leader Pontiac, who led a resistance against British rule after the French and Indian War, and it grew on the back of the railroads and the rich black soil of the surrounding prairie. The county courthouse and its square are the centre of the place, and the town has the unhurried feel of somewhere that knows who it is. The Vermilion River loops through the middle, and there is a small park beside it with a path along the bank.
What brings the riders is the Route 66 heritage. A museum in an old firehouse houses an Illinois Route 66 Hall of Fame, with memorabilia, photographs and vintage signs collected from along the road, and nearby there is a museum of classic cars and one of the town's own history. Murals on the sides of downtown buildings, many of them depicting scenes from the highway's heyday, turn a walk around the blocks into an outdoor gallery. It is a gentle, friendly sort of attraction, with volunteers who will happily point you toward the best bits of the old alignment.
The riding on this section is easy and relaxed. The country is as flat as a table, the fields stretch to the horizon in corn and soybeans, and the old road runs alongside the interstate in long straight stretches, sometimes gravelled, sometimes brick, always quiet. Wind can be the main nuisance, and in summer the humidity and the thunderstorms build quickly in the afternoon. Spring and autumn are the best times, when the air is clear and the corn is either low and green or golden and dry. Pontiac has stations and a few cafes for food, so fill up and have lunch here. If you are heading south, you are entering the long, slow heart of the old road.