Benny and the Pony Cart
We had a neighbor who had a “farm” of sorts- not operating like ours, but they had a son who was a very handsome young man and one of my childhood crushes. But equally capturing my attention was his amazing rig- a Shetland pony and a beautiful pony cart that he would drive over to our farm. I was envious of this pony cart- I didn’t covet too many things, but that pony cart… oh my, I wanted one so badly! And having a pony now, I thought well, it would be so grand to have my own little rig. We didn’t have the money to buy one as fancy as Michael’s, but the Geddes men have an uncanny ability to create workable things. Even out of junk. And so my brother Jack took it upon himself to build a pony cart. He welded a frame together and took two old Volkswagen Bug bucket seats and welded them onto the frame. I’d saved up some money, I think it was my money- hard to remember now, and we bought two motorcycle wheels. $40 a piece if I remember right- this would have been in the later 1960’s, so I’m sure they’re much more expensive now.
We first attached bicycle wheels but they proved to not be strong enough. I then bought a pony harness for Benny to wear and to attach it to the pony cart. The one major flaw with this whole scheme was no one asked Benny how he’d feel about this. This little temperamental pony already had a reputation for running away with his rider. Mainly myself. He was completely untrained when he came to us, so he had to learn the ways of the bridle, which honestly he had very little interest in or tolerance for. Shetland ponies are notorious for being temperamental, actually downright cantankerous. He would often just ignore the pressure put on his mouth with the bit and run away until he was done running. Quite terrifying for me as I struggled to hold myself on my perch.
Well, even though not having much tolerance for the bit, I naively thought that it would just take a little time for him to get used to pulling me around in the cart. Such an optimist! Oh, how little I knew about what I was attempting to do. He really was not at all excited about this new venture. But soldier on I did, and I would take my little rig for a spin as often as time allowed, but many times it ended with Benny just taking off and my desperate efforts then trying to rein him in.
One of the aspects of the pony cart that wasn’t the best design- there was no floorboard. There was a bar that we could rest our feet on, or more accurately brace ourselves against. Nothing to catch anything if it fell off the seats. Rather precarious, and obviously no seatbelts. Seatbelts may have ensured certain death. I’m not sure.
One very memorable experience will stay with me to my grave, and I can still chuckle, well no, I struggle to not laugh out loud at the memory. I have a little brother, Joe, who’s 10 years younger than me. I think we built the pony cart maybe a couple of years after we got Benny, so Joe was at least 5 years old, no older than 6 years of age. One day I took him for a ride, and oh what a ride it was! I remember the location on our farm even, when things started to go terribly wrong.
Benny had had enough. We were pointed in the direction of his barn and for those of you who know horses, pointing any of them in the direction of their place of rest and certain feed, and they all of a sudden explode with energy. Benny goes into hyper-drive and we are in for the ride of our lives!! I am desperately trying to regain control, I’m sure screaming at Benny “Whoa whoa WHOOOAAA!!!” All the time praying we don’t die. Joe, being so little but also he was big for his age, still was not able to reach the foot bar to brace himself with his feet. So he is bouncing around on the seat like popping popcorn. As I’m trying to stop Benny from his murderous intents, poor little Joe is now backward on the seat, clinging to the seat where his bottom should be, his feet dangling into the empty space below. I don’t think he’s making a sound, but I’m sure he’s thinking his life is about to be over.
I finally gain control of Satan’s spawn (Benny) and Joe has survived. I am so grateful he had a firm grip, it really could have ended badly. Falling while going that speed would have caused some potential injuries. But honestly, as I write this I’m trying not to laugh. Impossible. It’s one of those experiences that in the moment is terrifying, but afterward, you cannot help but laugh. Looking over and seeing Joe clinging with all his might but barely holding on- it just conjures up bubbling laughter in me. I might be a bad sister.
Benny lived with us for many years, providing endless pony rides for nieces, and nephews, even pulling sleds in the winter. He may have gotten used to pulling things and being more amiable. No, not really. It was in his DNA to be cantankerous. But he was a part of the family and we all have good and terrifying memories of him.
This picture is of Becky Ealy Geddes pulling her son and a friend. Benny had multiple tasks- none he was too thrilled about. But he acquiesced. I’m going to change this picture as soon as I find the one I want. It’s me on the pony cart attached to Benny.
