Follow The Bouncing Hunt Cap 

  

Understanding Combined Driving 

 
  

Combined Driving is an eventing-like sport in which equines perform dressage tests, then navigate through complex land and water obstacles, delineated with orange traffic cones and flags, at speed -- all with carriages strapped to their butts. Everyone loves the sport except for the SPCTC (Society for the Prevention Of Cruelty To Traffic Cones). Their constituents take a beating at novice driving events.
Thinking of switching to driving because it sounds easy? Beware. If you have trouble bossing around one little ol' riding horse, trying to control several equines simultaneously may not be your cup of tea. The good news about driving is, your horse can't whip his head around and bite you in the foot. Or, if he can, he has a really long, elegant neck and you need to buy longer, eleganter harness straps.
An eight-horse hitch is a big commitment. Eight horses with two reins each is 16 reins, or 1.66666 reins per finger. Do highly trained carriage horses get double bridles? 32 reins? How on earth would the driver of such a hitch ever get a finger free to gesture rudely at other drivers? [Note: the driver doesn't actually have two reins for each horse. It only seems like it if he's trying to eat fried chicken, steer the horses, and talk on the cell phone while navigating through traffic at rush hour.]
You gotta admire the guy who drives the Budweiser Clydesdales. He's bossing around many, many tons of horseflesh. Luckily the Clydesdales are gentle and not prone to petty rebellions . . .
Drive (clucking madly): "Donner, Blitzen! All you guys! Why aren't you moving?"
Biggest Clydesdale, whose name is actually Fred: "First of all, the Donner-Blitzen joke was funny only once, on Christmas, 1972. Secondly, we've been talking. We have composed a Clydesdale Manifesto."
Driver: "This is because of yesterday, isn't it. Look, I'm sorry I called you Bigfoot, but you WERE standing on my foot at the time. I was in pain."
Fred: "Pal, you haven't felt pain until you're doing a public relations tour and a toddler sticks a lollipop in your forelock and yanks it out by the roots, okay? So here's the thing: we want ice cream before every public appearance. And Fiona is complaining that when you hitch Ralph up behind her, he's looking up her crupper in an unseemly manner. You'd better talk to Ralph before Fiona files harrassment charges."
Driver: "Wow. I thought you were gonna ask for free beer."
Fred: "We're way ahead of you, my friend. The beer is already written into our contract." [He burps.]
The Driver looks annoyed. His contract does not include free beer.

A good driver gets to know his horses before deciding how to arrange them in the hitch. If Teamster always drifts left and U-Haul drifts right, do you want them banging into each other all the time, or constantly veering off in opposite directions? It's no better to harness up a pair who both drift south: you'll spend a lot of time trotting in a circle.
A rider gets feedback from the horse's whole body, perceived through her legs and seat. A carriage driver must watch the horses' butts for clues. A hot, smelly breeze means the horses had beans for breakfast. The sight of three shining bay butts and one buckskin rear end tells the driver that he's got to stop harnessing up in the dark before the sun comes up. Corollary problem: the buckskin is a cutting horse. This may be the first time a hitch-of-four has ever captured a cow and brought it in for questioning.
[Excerpt from Sep/Oct 2007]