Before we get into a discussion about All Things Roxor, I’d like to say for the wider audience that I’ve submitted my latest manuscript to the editor.

Hopefully, I’ll get it back by early May for an anticipated mid-June launch. The book concerns my take on what an actual alien invasion could look like, and it’s ugly. Long story short, we’d be screwed at this point in our civilization’s development.

I wrote approximately 112,000 words, with a two-week sprint at the end during which I did nothing but write. This directly caused a slowdown in another vexing project I’ve been tackling for an elderly neighbor: the violent disassembly of a massive maple that inconveniently fell over on his lawn.

Well, he couldn’t clear it for health reasons, and I needed the wood. Therefore, we made an agreement, and two months ago, I set to work. Did I mention that it was frickin’ huge, sixty inches at its widest point and that my saw only has a sixteen-inch bar? It’s been something, and frankly, without the amazing Roxor, it would have been a crappier job.

No shade on the Maverick, because it would have handled the work, but the Roxor has made it easier. For one, it’s not a daily driver, so I have no need to put my tools away every day. I’ve simply left them in the Roxor’s bed, as seen in the image above. For another, while I believe in working my vehicles, it would have really sucked to hit a brand-new 24 Maverick’s painted sheet metal with a stray log thrown in by exhausted hands.

It happens, trust me. This is not a concern with the Roxor, which will never be traded in.

Finally, I guess you can call me a weenie, but the Roxor doesn’t care if you get in and out of it with muddy shoes or woodchips falling from my clothes into the interior. Woodchips are especially annoying on fabric seats and carpet—they stick to everything. The Roxor has vinyl seats and a dura-coated interior. No one cares about mud or chips.

It’s the perfect work implement for these sorts of jobs.

And did I mention the power of it’s diesel, or unfeeling drivetrain? The Roxor has both, and I’ve used the hitch endlessly on this job. See below.

This is an example of what I call “splitting day.” Because of my relatively small chainsaw bar size, I have to whittle away at the trunk one chunk at a time. The chunks have to be small enough that I can feasibly carry the blocks to the wood splitter, seen behind the trailer. This is no easy task, and it usually takes a few days of “chunking” before I have enough gathered to split and fill a trailer.

By the way, allow me to plug the Harbor Freight heavy-duty utility trailer here. It is the ideal trailer for these kinds of chores, and the Roxor really likes it. For a reasonable fee, anyone in the US can have this great trailer. Add a thick plywood floor and some side stakes, and it’s wonderfully versatile. But I digress.

The Roxor has been the ideal work platform for this enormous chore. A definite force multiplier, and every time I hit the key, it reminds me why I bought it.

If you consider a Roxor, remember it is far more than a “toy.” And I’d advise you to get the factory hitch! It’s an amazing, versatile vehicle.

At some point, I’ll write a piece about more of the mods I’ve done to this beast—slowly but surely, my vision of the Roxor’s end state is being realized.

The end state is that the Roxor is my mobile toolbox.

In this regard, it excels.