The Lesson That Stuck (Carriage Driving Edition)

Every so often, I catch myself passing along a tip to a student—something simple, even offhand—and suddenly I remember exactly where I first heard it. It’s usually from years back, in a quiet moment between hitches or on a roadside while unhooking the traces.

It’s funny how the smallest bits of advice can take root and stay with you for life.

I didn’t come into carriage driving through formal channels. Like a lot of people in this corner of the horse world, I learned by doing—one long lining session, one turn of the wheel, one backstep ride at a time. I had good horses, generous mentors, and enough nerve not to quit when things got uncomfortable.

One of the first big horses I drove regularly was a solid, steady-going gelding with feet the size of dinner plates and a heart to match. He was the kind of horse who knew the job better than I did—and in the early days, I was grateful for it. He taught me to relax my grip, to drive from the seat, and to trust that just because I wasn’t in the saddle didn’t mean I wasn’t riding.

It was around him that someone first said to me:

✨ “The horse already knows the job. You’re just here to help him do it safely.”

At the time, I didn’t really understand how deep that went. But now, years on, it’s become one of the foundational truths I return to, especially when I’m coaching newer drivers or working with green horses.

Because carriage driving—more than most disciplines—requires that we partner with the horse. There’s no “fixing it from the saddle.” No legs to back up the reins. It’s just you, your hands, your voice, your intention—and the horse, 10 or 20 feet out in front, doing the job you asked for.

That simple line shaped how I approach driving horses, and how I teach others to approach it, too. And over the years, a few other lessons have stuck just as hard:

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✨ Drive from your destination, not your reins

When things get messy—whether you’re turning too late, backing unevenly, or dealing with a horse who’s powering through—you’ll often find the problem isn’t in your hands, but in your focus.

Look where you want to go. Feel the line, not just the lines. Let the horse read your intention, and then use your aids to refine it. Horses follow direction better when the driver has one.

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✨ Your voice is a tool—use it wisely

One of my early mentors reminded me that the whip is there to reinforce, the reins are there to guide, but the voice is what truly connects you to the horse. Use it with steadiness. With timing. With feel.

A soft “whoa” at the right moment does more than hauling on the reins ever could. A well-timed cluck can re-engage a dragging step. Speak like you mean it—and like your horse is listening. Because he is.

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✨ Never forget: your brakes are your brain

There is no emergency brake in carriage driving—only the decisions you make before things go sideways. You manage speed, space, footing, and energy with awareness, not just aids.

The best drivers I’ve ever known weren’t the flashiest—they were the calmest. They thought four steps ahead. They gave the horse a clear job and trusted him to do it.

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I think of these lessons often—not because I’m still trying to figure them out, but because they still apply. With green ponies or seasoned teams, in cones or on the road, these early teachings are what keep the wheels turning smoothly.

The beauty of carriage driving is how much of it comes down to feel. You can’t fake it behind the lines. The horse knows. The carriage knows. And often, the best driving advice doesn’t come from a textbook or a clinic—it comes from a quiet conversation over a wheel hub, or a casual comment while checking harness.

That’s the thing about horsemanship, and especially about driving: it’s passed down one moment at a time. One story. One shared pair of lines. One bit of advice that seems small at the time, but ends up being the thing you reach for when it matters most.

So now I’ll ask you:

What’s one lesson you picked up—maybe years ago—that you still think about every time you pick up the reins?

I’d love to hear it. Because every good driver has a story behind their hands. And every mile adds a little more to the craft we share.