The journey is just two kilometres (about 1.2 miles), but Slika has no other choice -- his taxi is his only source of income.
"My car is stuck between craters: I can't reach Lebanon and I can't go back to Syria. Meanwhile we're under threat of (Israeli) bombardment," said the 56-year-old.
"I work and sleep here between the two holes," he told AFP.
A dual Lebanese-Syrian national, Slika has been living in his car, refusing to abandon it when it broke down, until a mechanic brought a new engine.
His taxi is one of the few that has been operating between the two craters since Israeli strikes in October effectively blocked traffic on the Masnaa crossing.
The bombed area has become a boon for drivers of tuktuks, which can navigate the craters easily. A makeshift stall, the Al-Joura (pit in Arabic) rest house, also set up shop nearby.
Slika went for 12 days without work while waiting for his taxi to be fixed.
The car has become his home. A warm blanket covers its rear seats against eastern Lebanon's cold winters, and a big bag of pita bread sits on the passenger side.
Before being stranded, Slika made about $100 for trips from Beirut to Damascus.
Now, an average fare between the craters goes for just $5.50 each way, though he said he charged more.
'From one crater to the other'
On September 23, Israel intensified its aerial bombing of Lebanon and later sent in ground troops, nearly a year after Hezbollah initiated limited exchanges of fire in support of Palestinian ally Hamas amid the Gaza war.
Since then, Israel has bombed several land crossings with Syria out of service. It accuses Hezbollah of using what are key routes for people fleeing the war in Lebanon to transfer weapons from Syria.
Amid the hardship of the conflict, more than 610,000 people have fled from Lebanon to Syria, mostly Syrians, according to Lebanese authorities.
Undeterred by attacks, travellers still trickle through Masnaa, traversing the two craters that measure about 10 metres (32 feet) deep and 30 metres (100 feet) wide.
On the other side of the road, Khaled Khatib, 46, was fixing his taxi, its tyres splattered with mud and hood coated in dust.
"After the first strike, I drove from Syria and parked my car before the crater. When the second strike hit, I got stuck between the two holes," he told AFP, sweat beading on his face as he looked under the hood.
"We used to drive people from Damascus to Beirut, now we take them from one crater to the other."
Khatib doesn't charge passengers facing tough times, he said, adding he himself had been displaced from southern Beirut, hammered by Israeli raids since September. He moved back to his hometown near the Masnaa crossing.
'Like brothers'
Despite tough times, a sense of camaraderie reigns.
The drivers "became like brothers, we eat together at the small stall everyday... and we help each other fix our cars", he said.
Mohamed Yassin moved his coffee stall from the Masnaa crossing closer to the pit after the strike, offering breakfast, lunch and coffee.
"We try to help people as much as possible," he said.
Farther from the Lebanese border, travellers crossed the largest of the two crevasses, wearing plastic coverings on their shoes to avoid slipping in the mud.
A cab driver on a mound called out, "Taxi to Damascus!" while tuktuks and trucks ferried passengers, bags and mattresses across.
Nearby, Aida Awda Mubarak, a Syrian mother of six, haggled with a tuktuk driver over the $1 fare.
The 52-year-old said she was out of work and needed to see her son, after the east Lebanon town where he lives was hit by Israeli strikes.
"Sometimes we just can't afford to pay for a tuktuk or a cab," she said.
