The old mate strolled out to the gate one day when there was nothing much else to do other than get the mail and give a wide berth to the missus. It was one of those somnambulent type of days when the sun was shining and it was not too hot and there was only about a couple of million bush flies to the acre.
While he was waiting for the mail truck he leaned against the gate that was conveniently under the shade of a gum tree and gazed lazily across the paddocks at his sheep and cattle dotted among the few trees on the rolling hills that was his block and tried to turn a blind eye to the weeds, broken fences, the cattle yards that needed fixing and the rest of the work that could wait for a more convenient day when the stars were lined up properly.
After a while this flash looking SUV came high tailing it down the road in a cloud of dust and bad manners and stopped beside the Old Mate. A bloke in a big hat got out and came over and said gidday.
"Is this your ranch? the Texan asked"
"Yea, it's my property." the old mate replied.
How big is it? the Texan enquired.
Well, when there's a drought on it's not big enough, when it mustering time or I need to spray the Paterson's Curse then it's too big, but right now it's about the right size.
"In Texas it takes me all day to drive around the house paddock in my own truck," says the Texan.
"Yea, I know," says the old mate sympathetically, "I got a truck like that too!