A Texan was touring Israel, complete with his cowboy hat and cowboy boots. We all know about the tendency of Texans to brag. While driving down a great, flat desert, he spied a tiny house in the distance, with a neat picket fence. Coming closer, he saw an elderly man leaning against the fence.
"Shalom, you all," said the Texan.
"Shalom," replied the Israeli.
"Do you speak English?
"Sure I do."
"Do you own this little house?
"What on Earth do you do out here in this isolated area?
"I raise chickens."
"How large is your property?"
"Well, " answered the Israeli, "In the front, it's a good eighty feet. And in the back, it must be 100, 110 feet at least."
The Texan grinned. "I don't mean to brag, but back in Texas where I come from, I eat breakfast, get into my car around 9 am and drive and drive and drive and drive, and I don't reach the end of my property until about 6 o'clock at night."
And the Israeli sighed and said, "I once owned a car like that."
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