As I've written before, I probably need to stay put for longer periods in order to save gas expenses and wear on the Rolling Steel Tent. Part of the problem (if it is a problem) is that my view of "a short distance" is longer than that of many fellow van dwellers. Sometimes much longer.
Seventy miles for a few supplies? No problem. This is the big, wide open West. Everything is spread out. Yet I know folks who measure distance by the New England standard, where going three miles to the next town necessitates a suitcase and provisions.
I've made two runs from the outskirts of Quartzsite to the other side of town during the five days I've been here. For showers at the truck stop. And to get chili fixings while I was at it. I've been given more than one are-you-crazy? look. Come on, people, I drove here straight from Los Angeles. Two-hundred sixty miles. Piece of cake. And that's not even going by transcontinental trucker standards.
Oh well. This life lets us live the way we choose. I just choose to drive more than some.