Trying to come up with a storyline for a romantic advert for route 78, Claonaig to Campbeltown. But even I am not that sadistic.
Ok - (got too much time off) don't know the route ... ha ha, here's the romantic story line.
It's winter, dusk, first flakes of snow dancing in the crisp air. It's Valentine's evening. He's cycling home to her, a bunch of red roses sticking out of his panniers.
The country lane is dark, but his magicshine lights the way. Sheep in the fields, potholes deep filled with mud. He is cold, weary, high viz jacket reflected by moonlight.
Bottle of red wine sticking out of his other pannier.
He pedals, pedals faster towards his love waiting for him at the cottage, fire lit in the living room grate. he wants to send her a text - I'm on my way. I'm almost there - but there's no signal.
From a distance, he sees the cottage lights. Not far to go now.
A flutter at the edge of the road catches his attention: it's a baby bunny, lost his nest, trembling in the cold.
He puts the wee rabbit in his jacket pocket, another gift to his loved one.
Almost home, fate is against the brave cyclist: puncture!
No, not now when he can barely see his front wheel, so close to his destination!
A faint bark, the thin beam of a torch ahead: his love walking towards him, his dog is leading the way, he's not alone anymore.
The end
.
.
you brute! 
