All the ’70s Horse Memories Came Flooding Back
April 16, 2025
Source: Reddit
So I was rummaging through some old boxes the other day (I think I was looking for a photo album?) —and stumbled upon something that took my breath away. There it was wedged under an old army jacket and a few dusty ribbons: my old soft saddle bareback pad.
Bright pink. A little musty. Still have the hay hay stuck in the seams. Honestly, it resembled a machine that had just returned from the summer’s trail-riding affair and was just waiting for me to swing a leg over it again.
If you were raised around horses in the ’70s, you know exactly what I mean. Those soft, quilted pads ended up everywhere. Way before the high-tech gel saddles and YouTube wisdom about “rider alignment,” we had these.
The Poor Man’s Saddle (And I Mean That in a Nice Way)
To be real, these things weren’t fancy. Mine was a pink corduroy affair, complete with a thick center pad, webbed girth straps and D-rings for the stirrups. Not a horn in sight. Just raw, gentle, free-of-rules freedom.
It wasn’t for barrel racing or anything hardcore. It was for backyard explorations, summer camp trail rides and pretending you were a cowboy (or cowgirl, thank you) on a mission to nowhere.
I recall putting it on my shaggy little Appaloosa, Molly. She tolerated it—barely. I’d cinch the girth way too loosely, because I was, like, ten, and didn’t know better. If I was not careful, the whole thing would spin. To this day, I remember the one time I found myself under her, pinned but still attached to the pad like a turtle turned on its back.
She looked at me with, like, “Again? Really?”
Bareback… But Make It Soft
The idea of the soft saddle bareback pad was to pad your behind just a little more than what you’d get from a horse spine. Bareback riding seems fun in theory—until your tailbone connects hard with a high wither. Ask me how I know.
These pads allow you to sense the horse’s movement, which was the entire draw. You did balance the old-fashioned way — by losing it, a lot. At least you had some stirrups, though, to help you fake it.
Mine had those stiff leather stirrups that always seemed two inches too short, no matter how much I fiddled with them. I would stuff my sneakers in them (because boots? What boots?) and just go. Zero warm-up, zero helmet, zero rules. Just vibes, and perhaps a peanut butter sandwich crammed into my jacket pocket.
Why Everyone Had One In Those Days
They were cheap. That’s it, that’s the reason. Unlike a real saddle — which, even back then, could cost you hundreds — a soft saddle bareback pad set you back maybe twenty bucks. Tops.
And you didn’t have to buy a special rack, or follow a leather-care regimen. You could throw it over a fence, stow it in the back of a station wagon or employ it as a pillow during lunch period. (Again, done it.)
Camps had them by the dozen. Stables employed them for balance lessons. Parents purchased them for children who pleaded for a horse but had to make do with lessons on Saturdays.
And the colors! Mine was pink; I recall turquoise, mustard yellow, even one that had real fringe. FRINGE. It felt like a Western fever dream.
The Last Ride
I can’t recall the last time I used mine. Probably about the same time I found boys and stopped remembering to clean the barn one too many times. But rediscovering it unlocked this torrent of memory: dusty summers, sunburned shoulders and the way Molly’s mane smelled when I leaned forward to hug her neck.
It wasn’t just about riding. It was about having a little bit of wild in your heart when you grew up.” No phones, no pressure. All you needed was a pink pad, a good pony and an entire afternoon to get lost in the woods.
Still Got Yours?
And don’t throw out that soft saddle bareback pad you still have stowed in the back of your closet. Clean it up. Hang it in the barn. Heck, frame it if you want. This is not only horse gear — this is a time capsule.
Or even better… give it one last ride. Just watch that girth strap. It can slip out from beneath you if you aren’t careful.
Trust me on that.