Rich Oliver sent this in after attending Buster Roberts’ funeral:

If you, the reader, will indulge me, I would like to tell you about a friend of mine. I went to say goodbye to him today, and to thank him for a few things he did that changed my life.

You see, he was partly responsible for me not ever giving up, and he taught me that having fun was the secret to going fast.

I met Buster in 1988, out on the ranch in Hickman. We knew each other a little bit already then, from seeing each other at the races, but this was my first time out to Kenny’s. I had just been signed up to race for the Marlboro USA team, and Kenny told me I had better start to ride in the dirt and to get my ass out there and get going. So that’s what I did and it was hard. Kenny is pretty darn fast, and so was everyone else out there. So I crashed and crashed, I had so many elbow scrapes that I had scabs on top of my scabs. But you know, I’d be lying there in a heap, spitting dirt out of my teeth, and Buster would come over and just say something like, “Hey Oliver, get your ass up!”

But he was smiling. Buster was a man who could laugh with you, but he would never laugh at you. He always encouraged me to keep going, keep trying, he always took the long view, and would tell me that it was going to take time and to just be patient, I would get it.

So I worked at it and got better, I learned and I
started to relax, and found out that the more relaxed and the more fun I let myself have the faster I went.


Buster was cool, because sometimes he would ride over to the dirt track from his trailer on his little kick-around motorcycle and watch us race each other on minibikes. One of those times he told me, “you know Oliver, when you got here you couldn’t ride worth a shit, but you’re starting to get with it now.”

Kinder words were never said.

Years later we would hang out in his little trailer where he lived, talking about everything under the sun. He would tell me about his girlfriend from Japan and I would talk about my latest. He was as good a judge of a woman’s character as it turns out. I liked him a lot because of that little trailer. He was happy there, and had what he wanted. One day I asked him why he didn’t live in the house with Kenny and his family, but he just said he liked it in the trailer better. I like to be in my own castle, too.

Buster was always really fair about how he would pull for Kenny Jr., Kurtis and Tyson. But he would cheer for you too, even if you weren’t family. He loved to watch a good battle on the track and would care more about how hard you tried than if you finished first or second.

I’ve had to pick myself up this year a few times, and Buster has been there in my mind saying, “Oliver, get your ass up!”

I’ll keep getting up Buster, until my time comes, too.

I don’t really know what kind of a father Buster was, or what kind of a husband he was, but he was a really good man to me. And I’ve found there aren’t too many of those around.

I wonder where he is now, has he shed his comfortable but worn out body for something better? I think so. He can probably fly faster up there than anyone on a racing motorcycle can fly down here. But we’ll keep trying to catch up.

Rich Oliver