On the Accra–Kumasi highway, time doesn’t fly—drivers do. Each dawn, the asphalt hosts our unofficial national sport: lane-guessing with freestyle overtaking, scored by horn decible and proximity to disaster. Somewhere between Suhum and Nkawkaw, a Sprinter bus becomes a brutal lesson in momentum and stopping distance, a fuel tanker is a rolling wall—slow to stop and impossible to dodge at the last second—and the hard shoulder moonlights as a car park with a taste for ambush.