The state greets you at a famously hot, and an otherwise less than consequential town of Needles CA. I know this because I did not take a single picture there.
More interesting is the next town, Barstow, and a particular motel operated for 30 years by an Indian (India) couple, from the time when it was the only motel in a one stoplight, perhaps none stoplight, bend in the road.
Many places along 66 have various stripped and semi-stripped old cars as memory prompts and mood-setters. The motel had about as many of such as customer cars.
Below is a LaSalle. Don’t see many of those.
Leaving Barstow continues the desert environment but with ever more frequent houses and stores. Yet, in the middle of nowhere in particular, is the famous “Bottle Forrest:”
The Bottle Forrest is actually the last sane place on the Route 66 journey as one descends into San Bernardino and Los Angeles counties and the endless mass of humanity, cars, and malls. Somewhere threading through all of it is old Route 66, some of it even marked, but it looks nothing like it used to be. Below is an example of the what you find that is purported to evoke old 66 days (this example in Glendora CA):
And then there is Beverly Hills:
And at last, Santa Monic Pier, and the very end of Route 66. The Pier has been turned into a carnival of food and rides which, on a warm Sunday afternoon, were quite well occupied.
Odo from Denver reads 1827 miles. 
The ride back to Denver is here. There is one particularly worthwhile story there.