When the passenger enters the jeep, he senses an atmosphere different from that of most motor vehicles, since he seems to be in a Filipino home rather than in a conveyance. First of all, he notices the altar, with its image of Our Lady of Perpetual Help, or of the Suffering Christ. Just below the altar, within easy reach, is the money box that must be filled before the jeepney is returned to the operator. To the right may be a miniature bottle of San Miguel beer, sitting or a stereo cassette recorder-player lustily blaring a Yoyoy Villame song. This is ironical, since the dashboard is equipped with, aside from the cassette recorder, a crocheted doily on top of the recorder, a tiny electric fan, and eight small blinking lights.
Ornamentation is complete, but the gauges are inoperative.
Up on the ceiling are hung the two perpetually blaring stereo speakers. The ceiling is a lovely empty space for assorted designs, names and titles. On it one might find the names of the operator's whole clan, or the titles of his favorite songs, or six comic strips. The seemingly elastic capacity of the jeepney is a reflection of the Filipino's power to adjust to situations. Six passengers fit, but one can make that seven, and even crowd in eight.