My Car Trunk, My Tack Trunk… Is There a Difference?

By Gabrielle Sasse, PleasureHorse.com

It isn’t until I’m taking my car in for an oil change or giving someone new a ride home that I realize just how much of an extension of my barn my Honda has become. Amidst the “junk in my trunk”, you’ll find a bridle bag, boots that have holes in them, an english girth, a western pad, an english pad, some bell boots, and (the most interesting thing to explain) a red longe whip. And that’s just the last time I checked!

My car has housed anything from hay bales to bags of mints, and has acquired a permanent “eau de equine” that I don’t notice but always apologize for. My boyfriend has long since become accustomed to the horse smell, and will even cuddle on the couch with me when I come home from the barn. What is true love more than picking hay out of my hair and tripping over spurs trying to walk out the door?

It is interesting how horse people become accustomed to everything becoming an extension of their tack boxes- I have a saddle in the spare room, leather cleaner next to the carpet cleaner, and cowboy boots next to my high heels. Coffee becomes your best friend, you learn what places are open late for dinner (or early for breakfast), and you can eat a piece of pizza while posting. It is interesting that the last person I gave a ride home to didn’t mind the whip- after I explained I had horses- but was curious why I had a plate in my front seat. “Well, I had dinner in the car last night,” I explained. “Dinner?” was the incredulous response. “Uh… yeah?” was mine. “Oh. I’ve never eaten from a plate in the car before. Yogurt, yes, but that’s about it,” she explained. It was hard for me to realize that that’s not a normal thing, eating leftovers in the car. How else was I supposed to get to the barn AND eat AND work without eating in the car?  I consider it a win for the day that I’m eating more than a banana for dinner.

It is quite amazing how much our equine friends infiltrate our whole lives. How many times have you found yourself counting strides between light poles, or imagining what kind of trails would be along the highway you are on? That golf courses are a waste of good pasture, or how much fun it would be to gallop along the perfectly groomed hills? I’ve forgone a haircut for a farrier bill, and my lovely Honda is due for some repairs, but so is my mare. You can imagine who is seeing the vet today…

The term “horse crazy” isn’t so much of a mental condition as it is a whole life condition. We are crazy because we’ve got hoof beats in our heart, muzzles on the mind, and hay bales on the brain. My friends all ultimately learn something about horses, whether they know it or not. They can’t ask “how was your day” without it leading to other questions about horses or showing or tack or anything else under the equine umbrella. I was particularly pleased when a law student friend of mine asked “Pleasure is a type of class, right? A way of going?” They listen to me!

In what ways has your horse life infiltrated your “real” life- car or otherwise? Email us to share!