My neighbor watched me wrestle this thing onto my SUV for twenty minutes. Not helping. Just watching. Coffee in hand. At one point I had the box balanced on my knees, one side hooked onto the crossbars, the other side threatening to slide off and take out my side mirror. He took a sip.
That’s the Yakima SkyBox NX XXL experience in a nutshell. It’s huge, it’s heavy, and it will make you question every life choice that led to this moment. But here’s the thing — once it’s on, once you’ve got five people’s worth of camping gear stuffed inside and you’re cruising down the highway at 75 mph without a single rattle? You forget the swearing. Mostly.
I spent the last three weeks with this black plastic behemoth strapped to my roof. Drove through rain, wind, and one unexpectedly hot day where I was convinced my gear was slow-roasting up there. Came back with everything dry, intact, and a new appreciation for why people drop nearly a grand on a plastic box.
Let me back up. I had a soft-shell rooftop bag before this. One of those waterproof-ish fabric things you strap down with a million buckles. Worked fine until it didn’t — which was the day we hit a downpour on I-5 and everything in the bag came out smelling like a wet dog and vaguely damp. Two suitcases, a tent, and a bag of clothes I’m pretty sure grew mold before we even got to the campsite. That trip, I was crouched in the rain at a rest stop, pulling out sodden sleeping bags and trying to wring them out. My kids were watching from the car. I think one of them took a video. I’ve never seen them laugh so hard.
So when I started looking at hard-shell boxes, I knew I wanted something that could swallow everything. The Yakima SkyBox NX XXL is 22 cubic feet. Twenty-two. That’s bigger than my first apartment’s closet. Yakima says it holds gear for five campers, and I believe it because I shoved five duffel bags, a tent, two sleeping bags, a camp stove, a bag of hiking boots, and a half-inflated paddleboard in there. Still had room for snacks. Which I then forgot were up there and we had to climb on the roof at a gas station to get them. Good times.
The dual-sided opening thing is one of those features you don’t think you need until you’re parked in a crowded lot and the only accessible side is the passenger side. I’ve used that more times than I expected. It’s not complicated — just unclamp on one side and the lid pops up. The gas struts hold it open, which is nice, because if it slammed shut on my head I’d probably still be at that rest stop crying.
Now let’s talk about the SKS lock system. Push-button. Integrated. It’s fine. It locks. It keeps stuff from walking away. I’m not going to pretend it’s some Fort Knox-level security, but it’s better than the bungee cords I used to use, and it gives me a tiny bit of peace of mind when we stop for food and I can see the box from the window. I mean, I still take the expensive stuff inside. I’m not an idiot. But for duffel bags and sleeping bags? Yeah, it’s enough.
Here’s the thing nobody tells you about this box: it’s not water-resistant. The listing literally says “Not Water Resistant.” Which seems insane for a $949 box that sits on your roof in the rain. But here’s the reality — the seams are tight, the lid seals well, and I drove through a thunderstorm that had me pulling over because I couldn’t see the taillights of the car in front of me. Everything inside was bone dry. So I don’t know what “not water resistant” means in Yakima’s world, but in my world, it survived a biblical downpour. Maybe don’t pressure-wash the seams. Maybe don’t submerge it. But rain? Fine. That rainstorm was the moment I stopped worrying about the box and started worrying about my wipers. Wipers were not fine. That’s a different review.
One thing I noticed — and this is the kind of detail you only pick up after using it for a while — the gas struts on the hinges make a faint hissing sound when you open the lid after it’s been sitting in the sun. Like a slow leak. Not actually a leak. Just the pressure equalizing. The first time I heard it I thought the seals had failed and I was about to have a trunk full of wet gear. Nope. Just a quirk. But it’ll make you jump the first time.
Installation: The Part That Made Me Sweat Through My Shirt
Okay, let’s get real about the install. This box weighs a lot. I don’t have a scale, but if I had to guess, somewhere in the 50–60 pound range. That doesn’t sound like much until you’re trying to lift it over your head and line up four clamps with your roof rails while standing on your tiptoes. Yakima says two people needed. They’re not lying. I did it alone because my wife was inside with the kids and I have a stubborn streak that’s frankly a character flaw. It involved a lot of grunting, some creative use of a step stool, and a moment where I had the box balanced on my shoulder while reaching blindly for the clamp. Do not recommend. Get a helper. Or a better step stool. Or both.
The clamps themselves are dead simple once you actually get them on. They’re these chunky integrated clamps that tighten down with a knob. No tools needed, which is great because I always lose the Allen key anyway. The clamps grip the crossbars firmly and I haven’t noticed any shifting, even on rough roads. There’s a satisfying “thunk” when they lock into place. That sound, right there? That’s the only thing that kept me from throwing the box off the car in frustration. Sensory detail: the plastic on the clamps has this textured, almost matte finish that’s nice to grip. Not that you’re gripping it for long. You’re just turning and praying.
But here’s a trap: the clamps are a little fussy if your crossbars are wider than standard. I have the factory bars on my Highlander and they just barely fit. If you have thick aero bars, double-check the clearance. I spent ten minutes adjusting one clamp because it kept slipping off the bar. I almost switched to my old Thule Motion 3 XL just to avoid the headache. Almost. But the Yakima’s clamp system actually holds tighter once it’s set — it just takes more patience to get there.
On the Road: Wind Noise, Gas Mileage, and the “Is It Still There?” Effect See Today’s Deal on Amazon
I was prepared for this thing to sound like a hurricane on my roof. All that surface area? The box is huge. It’s basically a billboard for bad aerodynamics. But honestly, it’s quieter than I expected. At highway speeds, there’s a low hum, but nothing that interferes with music or conversation. I could hear my kids fighting in the back seat just fine. Which is not a compliment to the box, just a fact of life.
My gas mileage took a hit. About 2–3 MPG lower on the highway. That’s not the box’s fault — physics is physics. You’re pushing a brick through the air. But if you’re planning a cross-country trip, budget for an extra stop or two. The question is whether the tradeoff is worth it. For me, having all that storage room meant we didn’t have to pack Tetris-style in the cabin. The kids had legroom. The dog had the back. Nobody was sitting with a duffel bag on their lap. That’s worth a few extra dollars at the pump.
Capacity: The “How Much Can I Shove” Game
This is the XXL size, and it’s seriously spacious. I measured it — not carefully, just with a tape measure and some hope — and it’s about 90 inches long and 36 inches wide. The top shell curves down toward the front for aerodynamics, so you lose a little usable space at the front. But the flattened floor means you can slide stuff in without fighting a weird shape. I appreciate that more than I thought I would.
For reference: I fit five carry-on-sized suitcases in there with room to spare. Five. If you’re a family of four, that’s one bag each plus extra space for the random stuff you always end up bringing — the roll of paper towels, the extra blanket, the bag of snacks your partner insisted on buying at the last minute. If you’re bringing skis, the 215cm capacity means you’re covered unless you have absurdly long planks. I don’t ski, but if I did, I’d be smug about it.
One weird thing: the lid gets harder to latch when the box is overstuffed. Which, let’s be real, it always is. If you pack it to the brim, you have to press down firmly while closing. The latch mechanism is solid, but you can feel the resistance. My first time closing it, I thought I’d broken something. Nope. Just overpacked. Again.
The Downsides: Let’s Be Real
The price. Nine hundred and forty-nine dollars. That’s not nothing. That’s “I could have bought a cheap used bike for that” money. If you’re only going to use this once a year, it might not be worth it. But if you do regular road trips or camping, it starts to make sense. I’ve spent that much on worse things. Like my soft bag that I used for three trips and then hated. So it’s a wash.
The weight. I mentioned this, but it bears repeating. This thing is heavy. Getting it on and off the car is a two-person job, and if you have a taller SUV, you’ll want a step ladder. Or a taller friend. Or both. I’m 5’10” and it’s a struggle. My wife is 5’3” and she can’t even reach the clamps. So it’s basically my job forever. That’s fine. I guess.
The size. This is an XXL box. It’s enormous. You need to check your garage clearance before you drive in with it mounted, because you will destroy it. I have a low garage door and I measured six times before I parked. I still hold my breath every time I pull in. If you’re in a city with low parking garages, you might want to size down. The Yakima SkyBox NX 18 is a good alternative if you need to fit under those bars. A friend has that one and he parks in a garage with 7-foot clearance. No issues. I envy him.
Also, the manual. It’s fine. Not great. Not terrible. Just one of those diagrams that’s clearly translated and assumes you already know what you’re doing. I’m not saying you need a degree in engineering, but maybe watch a YouTube video before you start. I didn’t. I should have. I would have saved twenty minutes of head-scratching.
The Unexpected Details
The finish on this box is called “NX nano-texture.” Whatever that means, it looks good. It’s matte black, not shiny, so it doesn’t show scratches as easily as glossy plastic. It’s also slightly textured, which I guess is the “nano” part. It feels almost soft to the touch. Like a premium plastic. I’ve touched it more than is normal. My wife caught me running my hand over it in the driveway and asked if I was okay. I was. Just appreciating good texture. That’s allowed.
One minor annoyance: the lock cylinder has a little rubber cover that’s supposed to keep dirt out. It works. But it’s also in the exact spot where my hand naturally goes to lift the lid, so I’m constantly flipping it open and closed. It’s a tiny thing. It’s also the first thing that will break if I’m not careful. I’ve already mentally budgeted for that.
The internal ceiling has a few plastic ridges that I assume are for structural support. They also make it slightly harder to slide flat items in. A long box or a duffel bag catches on them. I noticed this when I was trying to slide a fishing rod case in and it hung up. I had to tilt it. Not a dealbreaker, just an “oh, that’s annoying” moment.
If you grab one through the links here, I might get a small cut — costs you nothing extra and keeps the lights on. Full disclosure. I’m not saying that to influence you. I’m saying it because I’d want to know. And honestly, if this article saves you from buying the wrong box — or helps you make peace with spending the money on the right one — that’s good enough for me.
So, Is It Worth the Cursing?
Look. It’s expensive. It’s heavy. It’s probably overkill if you’re a solo traveler or a couple who packs light. But if you have a family, if you camp, if you ski, if you just hate having stuff piled up to the ceiling inside your car — this thing is a revelation. The Yakima SkyBox NX XXL freed up so much space in my car that we actually had room to move the seats back. The kids stopped complaining about legroom. The dog stopped stepping on the cooler. It’s the little things.
I keep thinking back to that soft bag. The one that leaked. The one that made me resent road trips. I hated that thing. Every time I saw it in the garage, I felt a little spark of anger. Now I see this big black box and I feel… prepared. Which is maybe the best I can hope for from a car accessory. It does its job. It does it quietly. It keeps stuff dry. It locks. What else do you need?
Three weeks in, no rattles, no leaks, one minor scuff from a low-hanging branch. I’ll take it. The coffee I’m drinking as I write this is cold. Has been for a while. But I’m not even mad. It’s not the box’s fault.
I’ve been down the rooftop cargo road before. If you’re curious about how this compares to the Thule Motion 3 XL, I’ve written about that too. And if you’re looking for something with a rear-vehicle design, I’ve also reviewed the Yakima EXO GearLocker — it’s a whole different approach. The SkyBox is still the king of roof storage in my book, but the EXO has its niche.
Anyway. The dog’s barking. I think he wants to go for a drive. Maybe I’ll just leave the box on and pretend it’s part of the car now.