Ah, the sweet sound of spring in North Dorset: birdsong, lambs bleating, engines revving … and my horse doing the fancy sideways samba because someone’s decided to pass us at 40mph while checking their phone.
Here’s the thing: riding on the road isn’t some whimsical nod to countryside nostalgia – it’s often a frustrating necessity. Have you seen the state of our bridleway network? It’s like someone spilled a bag of spaghetti on a map and called it a plan. Disjointed, patchy, and often impassable. My idea of a relaxing hack does not, in fact, include having my horse figure out how to get all four of his legs over a new stile in the middle of what was once a bridleway. We’re all forced to hit the tarmac at some point.
So yes, we share the road – but what we don’t share is your steel cage of protection.
It’s really not tricky, though we’ve all met drivers who can’t seem to figure out what to do. When a driver slowly creeps up behind us for what feels like a mile, it’s not calming. It’s weird.
My horse thinks you’re either a lion or a lunatic – and neither is particularly welcome mid-hack.
And don’t even think about beeping. I’m not waving at you to say hi – I’m asking you not to send my horse into orbit. That cheery honk might as well be an air raid siren as far as he’s concerned.
Also, while we’re at it (I’m on a roll now – this column is very cathartic): revving your engine to show off your car’s horsepower? Cute. My actual horse remains unimpressed. He’s too busy trying not to die of fright while you overtake within licking distance.
It’s not rocket science: pass wide (a car’s width if possible) and slow (as if you’re near a primary school – because you are, metaphorically).
Oh, and maybe give a wave back when I thank you. It’s not just good manners, it’s a nod to the fact we’re all trying to survive the same stretch of rural tarmac.
I imagine cyclists feel much the same. They too are soft targets in a world of high hedges, deep pot holes, blind corners and impatient drivers. Next time you pass one of us, remember: we’re not ‘traffic’ – we’re people. And some of us are sitting on half a ton of nervous energy with a mind of its own and a strong dislike of surprises. Plus hooves.
So next time you see a rider–or anyone soft-shelled and road-bound – resist the urge to test your reflexes or your engine. Just pass wide, pass slow, and carry on. Because trust me: your patience is far more impressive than your exhaust note.
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