Bus Trips And Epiphanies

I recently had to travel from Tehran to Mashhad by bus. The reason is not at all funny and not at all surprising to those who know me, but it's out of the scope of this... whatever.
Anyway, after a lot of time spent rushing around Tehran in taxis in vain, I found myself slammed into the first-row seat of a bus which, I imagine, is not a fashionable or desirable seat, since it was left open till almost the last minutes, in which time I bought my ticket.
Anyway, I'm not picky at all when it comes to travel, be it by car or train or airplane or, in this case, bus (I have yet to travel any considerable distance by boat.) As I was saying, I'm quite easy with different means of travel, and don't find non of them unbearably hard. But this time, I had already missed my train, was very tired from gods-know-what, and for the life of me, couldn't find a place to buy cold mineral water. The journey was shaping to become very hard.
The bus I was on was one of this almost-brand-new Volvos, with air conditioning, TV and water cooler (which wasn't working.) I was in the front row, and the driver window occupied most of my field of view. The top quarter or so of the window was covered by a curtain, declaring to the world that the bus belonged to such and such company and it was, in fact a "Volvo." The net result was that the word "Volvo" was in the dead center of my view for a large portion of the 14 hours I was in that bus. I couldn't help but remember this really funny conversation from Blanc:

Mikolaj: Volvo?
Karol: Volvo.
Mikolaj: Burgundy?
Karol: Burgundy.

(I'll have to check the spelling of the names. How do you write "Mikolaj" in Polish? (It turns out that I was right for a change!)) Another byproduct of that big 3x2^m window was that I was staring at the road for the rest of the night. My seat was a little elevated, so I could see from a short distance in front of the front bumper of the bus to about 100 meters ahead. The road signs and the yellow and white bands (stripes?) they draw on the surface of the asphalts and the road itself were lit by nothing but the headlights of our Volvo, and the occasional cars in front of me were only two passing red lines.
I again removed my glasses. I'm so blind! This helps me see better, clearer. The train of white and yellow on black with the occasional red blurred into each other was... mesmerizing - yes, that's the word - mesmerizing. I thought about why I was always happier returning to Mashhad than when I was leaving for Tehran. Why I still think of it as returning and leaving, now that I live mostly in Tehran. Maybe I want is here? Maybe not all I want, but all I need? Maybe the road is not my bride? Maybe all these months of half separation has put me on the verge of learning something, something valuable? I don't know. Not yet.

...And the road becomes my bride,
I'm stripped of all but pride,
So in her I do confide,
And she keeps me satisfied,

...And with dust in throat I crave,
Only knowledge will I save,
To the game you stay a slave,
Rover, wanderer, nomad, vagabond,
Call me what you will.

But I'll take my time anywhere,
Free to speak my mind anywhere,
And I'll redefine anywhere,
Anywhere I roam.
Where I lay my head is home...

...And the earth becomes my throne,
I adapt to the unknown,
Under wandering stars I've grown,
By myself but not alone,
I ask no one.

...And my ties are severed clean,
The less I have the more I gain,
Off the beaten path I reign,
Rover, wanderer, nomad, vagabond,
Call me what you will...

But I'll take my time anywhere,
Free to speak my mind anywhere,
And I'll never mind anywhere,
Anywhere I roam.
Where I lay my head is home...

But I'll take my time anywhere,
I'm free to speak my mind,
And I'll take my find anywhere,
Anywhere I roam.
Where I lay my head is home...

But I'll take my time anywhere,
I'm free to speak my mind anywhere,
And I'll redefine anywhere,
Anywhere I roam.
Where I lay my head is home,
Carved upon my stone,
My body lies, but still I roam...

Wherever I may roam!