Twice while driving between Oban and Campbeltown on the A83 I met a vehicle coming at me head-on on the wrong side of road. I swore if it happened a third time, I was going to quit my job and no more driving the A83. Of course, I may not have survived that third encounter with a nut behind the wheel. You can't quit if you're dead. The A83 was, and for all I know still is, a nasty road. Once, on a curve, the office van hit some loose spilled gravel or oil from a vehicle and briefly went onto the verge. I managed to get it back on the road but not before a rock tore out a back tyre and damaged a wheel arch. Another time I slowed down to walking pace on the approach to an almost 90o turn onto a bridge across a burn because I knew the road might be icy. The van only made an 80o turn. I could have got out, the van was moving so slowly, and interposed myself between it and the bridge parapet. But vague memory of High School physics and the momentum of even a small van made me think crushed shins. I think I got off with a broken indicator. Minutes later the council sanding truck went by. I miss several things about life in Argyll but the A83 isn't one of them.