Tho’ it is hard – the earthly load,
The Cart is easy in its move,
The reckless couch-time, on road,
Will not get of his bench above.

In early morn we take our places;
We glad to break our empty head,
And leaving leisure for the races,
We cry, “Go on, you idler, damned!”

At noon, our bravery’s diminished;
We have been tossed and more afraid
Of slopes, steep, and ravines, peevish,
And cry, “Be easier, you, brat!”

The cart rolls in the former fashion,
By evening, we have used to it,
Wait for night lodgings, doze, patient, –
And Time tends horses to full speed.

– Pushkin, “The cart of life”, translated by Yevgeny Bonver

tl;dr it doesn’t really matter the cart keeps on racing until it crashes. And then they Slav it back up and it keeps on racing. Nobody knows who or what the fuck actually holds the reigns. Also that “go on, you ildler, damned” does not give the profanity used in the original credit. Like, not even close. English isn’t capable of it.