Mexican Bus Tire Pressure Sensor

Somewhere east of Oaxaca, the bus stops at a desolate eatery for dinner. While riding on buses, I have been avoiding all hot meals like the plague, as I did not want to suffer Montezuma's revenge while on the bus. But with this stop in the middle of nowhere, I had no choice but to eat the only entree offered-- chicken and rice. The two pieces of chicken were stringy and tiny. But I never got sick.

After dinner, we pick our teeth out in the parking lot while an attendant washes the bus's windows with a small bucket of dirty water. I chat with two fellow passengers.

One is returning home to Honduras. He is broad shouldered, fairly tall, and seems Americanized. He speaks English with virtually no accent. He had been working in construction in Colorado. He was successful and even bought himself a brand new Nissan Titan. But then, the housing market collapsed and he lost his job. He is moving back to Honduras, indefinitely. He's letting his friend in Colorado use his truck, for now.

The second guy is returning home to Guatemala. He is short, stout, and not very confident with his English. There is no more work for him in the States. He will cross the border into Guatemala and take a "combi" back to his home village. I think this is the first time I have heard the word "combi" used in a regular conversation.

As we stand in a small circle next to the bus, I notice these metal rods connected to the hub of the wheels. What the heck are they? The amiable bus driver comes up, having eaten four pieces of chicken and two helpings of rice, and tells me that they are tire pressure gauges.

Pictures courtesy Mexico Woods.

CKY