The only good Cadillac is a dead Cadillac?

Outside of Amarillo, Texas, on Route 66, are ten wildly painted Cadillacs, buried nose down in the ground. That was exactly one less than the eleven little deaths Jacob Will had to commit. Would there be one more planted in the soil if he was successful?

He would have been hard-pressed to figure out what they meant to him in a cosmic sense. But like some automotive Stonehenge, he was drawn to them. Created by modern-day Druids, the Ant Farm, back in the ’70’s, the installation has lasted longer than the cars’ useful life. How does that comport with Jacob’s quest?