The Southwest, Like Space, Is Big.

So, I did call to make arrangements to have the repair work done on my car in a couple of weeks. (Per one of the many things I complained about yesterday under "current annoyance.") Progressive, as usual, has been really good to deal with, but I am always amused by the reactions of people who don't live out here when I encounter them in situations like this. The insurance agent, judging from her area code, is in Ohio. And when she went to look up which repair services they have on their preferred list, the conversation went something like this:

HER: Oh, wow, I don't see one within fifty miles of your zip code. Well, you can choose any repair shop you want that's nearby...

ME: Yeah, I doubt there is a body shop within fifty miles of me. I really do live in the middle of nowhere. Check in Albuquerque.

HER: *does so* Oh, but it says the nearest one to you is seventy miles.

ME: Yep. That's Albuquerque. That's where I was expecting to have to go. It's the nearest actual city.

HER: I can't believe you'd have to drive that far!

ME: Eh. I know people who drive that far to get groceries. Oh, by the way, my policy covers a rental car, right? Because I'm going to need one of those to get home.

Heh. I've seen plenty of amusing stories about European tourists coming to the US and thinking they can, like, fly into NYC and take a quick overnight trip to visit the Grand Canyon or something, but even people in other parts of the country don't necessarily understand how very big and empty it is out here. I know it sure took me a long time to get used to it.