Eddie Lawson's mobile phone rang.

He could see that the man was calling, the man in the chair, the man to whom no one can say no to, the man with three world championships, the man who decided to spend the rest of his life, the only life that for all we know is the only one we will get, by trying to save US roadracing after its disastrous sale by the dopes at the AMA.

Eddie Lawson picked up the phone and said, "Hey Wayne. What's up?"

Wayne Rainey was calling his friend Eddie Lawson with a request. This was a few years back when MotoAmerica were pushing Joe Roberts to do more and be more in the then fledgling US series. Roberts was enjoying some good fortune and Rainey wanted him to ride more off-road, maybe do some dirt track racing. So he called Lawson and asked Eddie to take Joe riding a time or two. See what Joe can do, see where he needs work. Push him a little.

"Okay Wayne, no problem. Tell Joe to call me," the four time world champion said.

Joe called. A loose plan was made: to hang out a bit then go do some riding at a California motocross track. Joe brought his own bike—CR250F; Eddie had his KX250. They unloaded.

What could Joe Roberts have been thinking? How many times am I going to lap this old guy? What if he has a medical emergency while we are riding, what do I do? Numerous situations probably ran through his mind. "What are you doing today, Joe?", a friend might have asked before he left. Oh, I'm gonna take my friend Eddie riding. And then maybe stop at the pharmacy and pick up his medications and then I don't know get him home for a nap.

Sure, Eddie is no spring chicken—who is?—but he has kept his body and his mind in tremendously good shape.

It's not like it's 1984 and he runs five miles in loose sand before breakfast ("never puked") but Eddie is still trim and solid. He gets a new Kawasaki dirt bike every year and when the bike is returned the fellows who look it over before it gets auctioned off, they say that the bike is very clean and very, very used. Lawson lives in the desert and he rides at least once a week. If there were an award for the ex-world champion who rides motorcycles the most it would be Lawson. Dirt bikes, mountain bikes, street bikes; he rides more often than you, and certainly more often than any other world champion. His arch-rival, Wayne Gardner, posts political jabs all day on social media. When this happens you can bet that at that exact moment, more often than not, Lawson is off somewhere on a motorcycle.

Unloaded, and protective gear on, bikes warmed up and the track is open. Okay, Joe, Lawson says, I'll follow you. Clutch levers were released and their bikes hit Milestone MX Park in Riverside.

Lawson stayed behind, in observation mode. Joe warmed up, then dropped the hammer for ten minutes. He turned back and ... what? Eddie, over 40 years his senior, was still right behind him. Wow! Impressive!

Okay. Again. Joe put his head down and did another ten minutes of hard laps— that should do it—then backed off a bit. I didn't lap him, but where is Eddie? He turns and looks.

Still right behind him.

In 1971 Eddie Lawson was the youngest person, age 12, to ever race the Elsinore Grand Prix. Have you seen old movies on YouTube of the early Elsinore Grand Prix races? Today they look like a scene from an apocalyptic Stephen King movie where the world ends and the only transportation is motorcycles. Early Elsinore Grand Prix races make The Road Warrior look like a poker run—Toecutter would not have even qualified. Lawson started the race, again, at age 12, in the last wave. He rode a Kawasaki Green Streak 100 and if the hair-ball course and the dust weren't bad enough, he had to put up with spectators who thought it was now safe to cross the track because they couldn't hear the last wave of racers coming. 'You'd come around a fast corner and some drunk guy was in the middle of the track, deer in the headlights.'

Eddie Lawson, now in his 60s, was still right behind Joe Roberts. Despite his age, Lawson remains incredibly fast on a dirt bike and is, as always, in phenomenal shape.

Joe sucks it up and drops the hammer again. He is pushing hard and straining to get away from Lawson but it's not happening. Lawson is glued to his back fender. After ten more minutes of jumping, sliding and spinning Joe looks back.

Lawson is still right there.

After he won the world championship in 1989, Lawson was invited to race against some of the best off-road riders in a Supermotard race in Paris. The track was half dirt and half asphalt—tires were cut slicks. The race promoters, fueled by the popularity of the Paris Supercross, paid big name riders motocross riders, and an occasional roadracer like Lawson, to race the event. Honda France built Eddie a fearsome CR500 to race the event. Motocross riders like Jean-Michel Bayle showed up to win—Bayle was then the 1988 125cc World Champion and 1989 250cc World Champion; he was arguably the best off-road rider in the world. Lawson smoked everyone, won the race. When he returned to the US after the Paris race, Lawson called the CR500 that he rode "a little bike". This telling characterization may be more impressive than the actual kicking of every motocross riders ass at that race. Has any motocross bike maimed more 'oh, I got this' riders than the Honda CR500? And to Lawson it was just a little bike. Kinda fun. You know, like a TTR125.

Joe made two more valiant attempts to drop Lawson. Twenty minutes more, this time at 'I don't care if I go to the hospital' pace. Afterward, chest heaving, cramping, hands starting to feel like bricks, Joe Roberts turned back. Lawson was still right there, right behind him.

Lawson: "I thought, okay, I've been sucking his roost for forty minutes, getting hit with rocks and breathing all that dust so I thought, 'ok, now it's my turn to lead."

Lawson passed Joe Roberts. Finally! He enjoyed the clean air and celebrated not getting hit with big rocks. He wasn't going much faster than Joe's pace, just a little. But after one lap he noticed there was not the audible bark of two bikes romping through turns and whoops, just his. Next pass by he noticed Joe on the sideline, over by his truck. He must have broke something or was running out of gas, right? Lawson did one more lap then came in.

Lawson rode over to Joe Roberts. "What's up."

Joe, and this is so "Joe", honestly explained to Lawson that he doesn't care for riding in someone else's roost. He doesn't like it. About one lap was all he could take. One. Lap.

We're sitting in some bar on the Colorado River, me, Lawson and photographer turned data guy Dave Bush, one of Lawson's closest friends. Lawson tells this story. Lawson says Joe loaded up and headed out. One lap of Eddie's dust was enough. One lap.

The place is almost deserted; it's a Monday just after COVID ended. Bushy and I sit and ponder the story. The bar is dead quiet.

Lawson then says "When I was his age, and some old guy passed me, I swear to you that I would have done anything, rode over my head, did whatever I had to do to put him back behind me. I'd have crashed trying. I just could not believe it."

For Joe, that afternoon riding with Ed might have been forgotten in the grand scheme of things. He learned something about Eddie Lawson and maybe about himself.

But it won't be forgotten for a long time. Because both Lawson and Rainey now endlessly rib Roberts any time that they see him.

"Heeeey Joe .... Air okay here, Joe? Not too dusty ...? Too bad Ed wore you out that day. You recovered? You need to sit down." These taunts are made with old guy glee.

Joe laughs but it's probably one of those laughs where a guy swears bitterly under his breath after.

Damn that Eddie Lawson.