Why Hitchhiking Beats Rideshare Apps When Crossing Borders in Central America

At the border checkpoint crossing from Guatemala into El Salvador, I set my backpack down on the ground and checked my phone's battery. 11%. Uber obviously wasn't available, and the local rideshare app just kept repeating "outside service area." A truck pulled up beside me and the driver's window rolled down. "Adónde vas?" Where are you going? I picked up my bag and answered. "San Salvador." The driver nodded. That was it.

The four hours I spent in that truck were more valuable and cheaper than any app-based ride. To talk money first, it was $0. Exactly $0. Of course, as a thank-you I bought the driver, Don Miguel, two pupusas at a restaurant in the border town, but that was a separate matter and came to less than $1.50.

What I want to say in this post is simple. When crossing Central American borders, the old-fashioned method of hitchhiking is better than app-based rideshare in almost every way. Especially if you're a small-scale e-commerce seller like me, fighting over margins, where every penny of travel expenses is business capital.

Where Apps Don't Work

If you've traveled in Central America, you know that border areas are dead zones for apps. Let me tell you what happened when I crossed from southern Mexico into Guatemala last year. DiDi worked in downtown Tapachula. But move 30 minutes toward the border and drivers completely disappear. Even when you get a match, the price jumps absurdly. Demand exists but supply doesn't. If you open a rideshare app near a border checkpoint, the nearest driver shows up as 40 minutes away, and the estimated fare is nearly triple what the same distance would cost within the city.

On the other hand, there are always trucks near the border. Cargo trucks crossing with freight, pickups hauling agricultural goods, locals driving to visit family. These people are going that way regardless. There's an empty seat, and if you ask politely, there's a pretty good chance they'll give you a ride.

Going from Guatemala to Honduras, Honduras to El Salvador, and El Salvador back to Guatemala, I attempted to hitchhike eleven times and was turned down three times. As a success rate, that's pretty solid. Of course, there's waiting involved. Standing by the road for 15 minutes, sometimes up to 40. But it felt faster than waiting for a driver match on a rideshare app only to get canceled on.

What You Gain Besides Saving Money

Honestly, if cost savings were all there was to it, I wouldn't have written this post. The biggest takeaway was the people.

Don Miguel was a guy who hauled construction materials from the outskirts of Guatemala City, and during the four hours driving to the El Salvador border, he taught me all sorts of things about Central American logistics. Which border checkpoints have faster customs processing, which routes have better road conditions. Some of what he told me actually came in handy later when I was importing handcrafted goods I sourced in Central America into the US. You can't expect this kind of conversation from any app driver. A rideshare driver's job is to get you to your destination, and conversation isn't part of the deal.

A woman named Maria who gave me a ride in Honduras ran a small cafe near Copan. After talking for an hour and a half in the car and explaining my e-commerce business, she seriously asked whether she could sell her handmade chocolate online. We exchanged contact information. I don't know if it'll turn into business, but it was the kind of encounter that would never happen in the back seat of a rideshare.

Hitchhiking forces conversation. In a good way. When you get into a stranger's car, the silence is awkward, so you end up talking to each other. In the process, you pick up local Spanish expressions and learn what people in that country actually care about day to day. I learned the expression "va pues" from a Honduran driver — it roughly means "alright, let's do it then." It's an expression no language app will ever teach you.

Being Honest About Safety

Whenever you write about hitchhiking, the question of safety inevitably comes up. I'm not going to dodge it.

I know hitchhiking in Central America can be dangerous. I set a few rules for myself and stuck to them. When riding alone, I prioritized vehicles with families in them over trucks. I only flagged down cars right in front of border checkpoints — places where guards and other travelers could see me. I never tried it after dark. And before getting in, I took a photo of the license plate and sent it to a friend. Every time.

Is this a foolproof safety measure? No. But the safety measures rideshare apps provide aren't foolproof either. There have been countless news stories about how a driver registered on an app isn't necessarily safe. The difference is that with hitchhiking, I get to choose the car. With an app, you have to take whatever car you're matched with, but on the roadside, if something doesn't feel right, you just wait for the next one.

That said, I'm not recommending hitchhiking to everyone. I can speak Spanish at a travel-functional level, and I only tried it after becoming somewhat familiar with Central American culture. If you don't speak the language and it's your first time in the region, it makes more sense to ride local buses first and get a feel for things before making hitchhiking your main way of getting around.

The Math as a Seller

I'm bringing this up not out of travel romanticism. As an e-commerce seller, transportation costs on sourcing trips are directly reflected in product costs.

My last Central America trip was 12 days total. During that time, I made four cross-border trips. If I had used rideshare or private shuttles each time, transportation alone would have cost roughly $120–$180. The actual cost of mixing hitchhiking with local chicken buses was under $15. That difference of over $100 is the cost of dozens of additional handcrafted items I could source. For a small-scale seller with thin margins, that's a difference you can't ignore.

On top of that, there's the value of the information locals shared during rides. A single customs tip Don Miguel gave me about a specific border checkpoint saved me half a day of waiting on my next sourcing trip. That half day was time I could spend visiting one more market.

Money saved is capital that can be reinvested in the business. It's not a matter of travel style — it's a matter of business strategy.

I don't deny the convenience of rideshare apps. For getting around within cities, especially when I have a lot of luggage, I use them too. But for the cross-border stretches — the very stretches where apps don't work properly and fares are inflated — sticking out your thumb is still the more rational choice. It's cheaper, you learn more, and sometimes you even meet potential business partners.

My next sourcing trip is planned for Nicaragua. Will I hitchhike again? Of course. Va pues.