When I lived in the boonies I had a house like that. It was on a windy mountain road that was rarely traveled except on Sundays when people would drive their classic cars around. I could sit there with a beer after mowing my lawn and have my own private parade, and walk the couple miles into town no problem.
For work I just had to walk down the hall because shipping my brain through meatspace to push buttons in a different place is stupid.