Day Out

The Tunnah Mobile

The day we went to Swansea…

Tim Hughes relates an extraordinary tale

No doubt many away travelling Wrexham fans have witnessed the glorious sight of the "Dragon Passion Wagon", the one (thank god) and only "Tunnah Mobile". Some of you may hold claim to the fame of being one of its many passengers in a time warp of trips around this land in a vehicle that time forgot. This is the story of our never to be forgotten trip to Swansea - a complete dai-saster on St. Davids Day. 

Driven by your host Carl "I'm an anorexic" Tunnah (just ask him and he'll tell you!) and his not so trustworthy directions manager, Pete "just trust me" Matthews, with our usual merry band of Red Army followers in the back (myself, Matty, Paul, Martin, Ian and Geraint), we left Wrexham in the van hoping the journey wouldn't take too long so we could join the other Reds down in Swansea for a pint before the match. No such luck!

Just outside Oswestry we experienced a little turbulence. The van came to a halt - yes you've guessed, a flat tyre! We then parked on the side of the road, we all got out and jacked the van up, I then said "Tunnah's jack, Swansea jack" - but no-one laughed. Another Wrexham legend is Mr lan "T" Philips - can anyone tell me what the "T" stands for, although I've a few ideas of my own. Anyway he and Carl went to Oswestry on foot with tyre under arm and finally got there and back with two lifts. The tyre was knackered and a new one was bought for £35.

Back at the van, we were all getting a bit concerned, wondering whether we would get to the game on time; then, in the distance we could see our two heroes, complete with new tyre, crawling along the hard shoulder. I ran to meet them and took the tyre to the van. Pete fitted the tyre and we returned to our seats and carried on with the journey. Little did we know what lay ahead. After a fair consumption of "pop" and one long toilet stop for myself, we found ourselves behind Carl's favourite kind of driver, a learner, and I bet that driver's ears were burning. I recall Carl saying he resembled a "pregnant South Walian goldfish".

About 50 or so miles from Swansea, the passion wagon, old faithful, started playing up, backfiring like Carl on heat and spluttering like we were on kangeroo juice. On approach to Swansea and in a traffic jam on a hill the van stalled. We then managed to park the van in a DIY superstore car park and after giving it its last rites we all ran over to Tescos to phone for two taxis.

By now the match had started and Ian was pacing up and down the Tesco cheese counter (he's got this thing about cheese), with his programme holder in hand. He muttered: "if only I had a tardis!" At last the first taxi arrived and Ian made sure he got in it - I've never seen a seatbelt go on that quick in the front seat before! 

The first four were on their way and within five minutes the second one arrived. Amazingly the second taxi arrived at the Vetch before the other one did, and we all ran to the turnstiles. I've met some awkward stewards in my time and the one at the side gate must be top of the league. As he opened the gate he said "£10 take it or leave it" and at half-time that was steep. We had no option but to pay. 

After the match finished and seeing Carey save our bacon, we returned via the same taxi (top bloke) back to the "Tunnah Mobile" and after the others returned we then set off on our long journey back home. About 10 minutes later the van struggled again and it was decided to pull over in the next town and call the AA for help.

We stopped in Glynneath, Carl and Pete opting to stay with the van while we all went looking for liquid refreshment and chips. The landlord was great as were the local Dai's and Blodwyns and we found a cracking chippy. By now it was 6.30pm and as we returned to the van we were met by the welcoming sight of the local recovery wagon coming over the horizon, pulling up behind the van. Out stepped this shifty-eyed character in a yellow jacket and baseball cap. He took one look at Tunnah and one look at the van, asking were we had been. We said Swansea.

After weighing up the problem with the van, he asked where we were going to; we said to Wrexham. He then took one step back, collapsing on the van bonnet and said in a very high- piched South Walian accent: "F***** Wrexham!" We all fell about laughing; when he got his breath back he realised that there were too many of us to go in his wagon so he rang the AA for more help and they sent a mini bus.

Eventually we arrived home, seeing the welcoming sights of the Racecourse floodlights at around 12.30am. The van arrived back at Manley Road Mansions at 10.30pm on Sunday night. A very eventful day, I think you would agree, but apart from the match, we enjoyed every minute of it as we always do. 

"Hope" to see you all at our next away match.