Irene

Here’s a story… not sure anyone cares but… back in 1983, I went with my friend Dave down to Arizona to work on his crew, thinning trees.

Dave, with his wife and two kids, drove up to Tacoma, WA, for the holidays and left his truck “Irene,” a 1951 Chevy Pickup, in Arizona.

That February, Dave and I drove to Arizona, in his 1970’s VW Bug with Dave’s dog Bo and my dog Joss.

We got to Heber, AZ, on the Mogollan Rim (6,600 foot elevation ) and drove Irene up a logging road near where we were supposed to be working (somewhere around 7-8000 foot elevation). We drove Irene down a pretty steep spur road and set up Dave’s teepee/lodge next to a little creek. We worked for a couple weeks before the snow came, and that was that. We were snowed in. We would take the VW into town to get supplies until the snow was too deep.

We would drive the bug up the snowy logging road until it would go no further and then we would have to walk the rest of the way to the lodge. When the VW bug got completely snowed in, we would walk a long way to a road that did not get much use, and hitchhike to the highway. Sometimes walking all the way (don’t remember the distance but it seemed very far) to the highway and then to town.

We looked forward to visiting a restaurant that was in Mary’s (the owner) log home, and who waited on us and treated us like her kids. She was beautiful, especially to a couple of 23-year-olds. The Chimichangas were huge and delicious. We thought of those as much as we thought of Mary.

Like I said, we worked for a couple weeks then got snowed in and not able to work. We spent a lot of time just hanging out. I had a book of string games, that I read and learned a lot of intricate string games (you know cat’s cradle, but more intricate than that), I think that book was a prerequisite to me learning how to code websites. I also played my guitar a lot.

We took a side trip with our boss and a few of the crew to Prescott, AZ, for a week cutting, clearing and removing firewood for a big housing development. That was a nice break from hanging out at the lodge.

There was a beautiful little Jotul wood stove in the lodge that kept us warm but we also had open fires now and then. The pitch pine we burned made everything black, including our skin, hair, beards and lungs. We used to melt snow and take baths in a small tub.

Every once in a while we would get a special delivery of “coffee” that really made our day. Dave, buzzed on the so-called coffee would go on a binge of cleaning the lodge. He would start at one place and go clockwise all around it, till it was all clean. I loved those days. I referred to that as Dave being Felix (Odd Couple, reference).

Sometime in March Dave left to visit his family in Tacoma, and found a job, so it was up to me to pack all his belongings into Irene, with his VW bug strapped to a tow bar and drive it up to Tacoma.

It took three drive shafts, two from my friend Kim’s four wheel drive Chevy truck and one from a local tow truck before we got Irene out of that spur road.

My only stop was in San Bernardino, CA. My parents, who were living in Long Beach for the winter, came out to the Valley and met me for dinner. I stayed in a motel, woke up very early and proceeded to drive for 35 hours straight (breaking only for gas and food along the way) to Tacoma. I had to get to the Northwest in the next two days because I needed to renew my driver’s license by my birthday. I got to Tacoma on my birthday and drove the bug up to Everett, WA, and renewed my driver’s license, with the picture of my long hair and wild beard.

A couple years later, this happened. I don’t want to get too deep into why the police told me and my friend to get out of town one night (even though I lived in that town), but we turned the corner from the alley where the cops were and walked into a biker bar. The guy looking at ID’s didn’t look twice at my bearded friend but he had an evil eye towards me, a short haired, clean shaven, waiter/bartender/college student, but when I showed him my driver’s license with what some called, my Borneo Bob picture, he smiled and let me in.

Yep I was on the road for 35 hours straight, on I5, going 50 MPH in Irene, with two dogs, and yep, I did not mention the dogs in the song.

I picked up a hitchhiker who had a banjo, we pulled over for a little break to jam a little. Probably should have slept.

What kept me awake that whole time was singing, I listened to Neil Young’s Harvest album and sang the whole way. By the time I got to the Northwest, my voice was shot and I was very hoarse.

There are many stories with Irene and I’ve heard a few, good ones, and scary ones. The whole point of this story is, it’s my story with Irene. But like the song says, “Irene’s more than a machine.”

Irene
Written by: Phil Kane (2024)

I was dreaming a dream
About me and Irene
I was dreaming a dream
About me and Irene
We were going down the road
Just me and Irene
Just me and Irene
In my dream
Just me and Irene
In my dream

Many years ago
We shared the road
Many years ago
We shared the road
From Arizona to Tacoma
From Arizona to Tacoma
Just me and Irene
From Arizona to Tacoma
Just me and Irene

Born in Detroit
In 1951
Born in Detroit
In 1951
Irene is a 51 Chevy truck
From Detroit
Irene is a 51 Chevy pickup truck
Irene is a 51 Chevy pickup truck

If driving is dreaming
Irene is in my dream
If driving is dreaming
Irene's in my dream
Irene's got stories to tell 
Tell them Irene
It's not a dream, Irene's more than a machine
Yeah, she's a truck, but Irene's more than a machine

Irene, Irene, Irene, Irene
Irene, Irene, Irene, Irene