So far out in the country you have to drive ten minutes to get to the nearest GAS STATION, which stocks everything from (very marked up!) eggs to squirrel traps as well, because to go somewhere else you'd have to drive forty-five minutes into town? And when you walk into the gas station you're stared at for five minutes by the guys that seem to sit there all day, presumably talking but they stop when you go in?

I'm remembering why I moved, now.