Answer:
Without a bridle, or a saddle, across a thing I ride a-straddle. And those I ride, by help of me, though almost blind, are made to see. What am I?
I am a path between high natural masses; remove the first letter to get a path between man-made masses.
You write on me and secrets I can keep in places never seen. I spin like a top. Though stiff as a board, I'm often described like a mop. What am I?
rub me and a genie might appear
I can run but not walk. Wherever I go, thought follows close behind. What am I?
What do you purposefully put lots of in and on your body, but run away from when you encounter it outside?