Institute For The Future

MakerBot Day 3: Dad and the Soap Box Derby

I'm going to let you in on a secret: this post is a composite of sorts. Because, as it turns out, when you are as cautious (and inept) at putting things together as my Dad and I are, things take a lot longer than projected in the Thing-o-Matic (TOM) instructions. Since this series is supposed to supply a gripping narrative about my experimentations with the machinery of the future, I won't go into too much detail about the grind of assembling the Y- and Z-Stage Assemblies, the TOM's casing, and the Plastruder. What is helpful for you to know is that along with the X-Stage Assembly, these are responsible for moving the printer's build platform and Plastruder in 3D space. 

 

The Plastruder is the meat and potatoes of the TOM, and is helpfully described on the Makerbot website as: "the 'print head' for your MakerBot. You can think of it as a souped-up, robotic hot glue gun. Its main purpose in life is to heat up the plastic you feed it, and then extrude it out in a fine stream that you can build with."

What we ended up with

Getting all these components together is supposed to take a single person a total of 8 hours. You probably won't be surprised to hear that it has taken us far longer than that. So, when I saw the video of the Betaworks team putting together their TOM, I was initially jealous. As my dad and I were trying to gentle massage a tight-fitting laser cut support into place, their group of 8 was able to crank through the complete construction process in all of 3 minutes and 24 seconds. (Look it up, it's on vimeo!) How could we compete with that kind of efficiency?

 

But as the hours progressed, I began to realize that the I started to mind the lurching pace of our efforts less and less. Because my Dad and I were having a fantastic time. 

Unlike the times we have collaborated on the construction of Ikea furniture -- projects so simple that the manifest lack of complexity led us frustration and arguments (I'll admit it, but I know I'm not the only one that the Swedes have taken to the brink of insanity with their defiantly vague assembly instructions) -- putting together the TOM has been one of those bonding experiences that will make a poignant tableau in the made-for-TV movie about my life (starring Geoffrey Rush as my dad, and Jake Gyllenhal as me, not because of any resemblance but rather because my wife is obsessed with him. Damn you Jake Gyllenhal). 

The movie practically casts itself, right?

Whether childishly giggling about the hilariously named hardware burrito (the bundle of hardware parts that come with the machine), keeping each other sane while tediously fastening bolts, or stopping each other from taking a hammer to the Bot when we couldn't get something to fit, the hours (many, many hours) - as cheesy as it sounds, the days I have spent working with my dad on this project have been some of the happiest in recent memory. To me, building the TOM feels like the modern day Soap Box racer - something tangible that generations and communities can come together around to build, using their combined labor to make sense of the TOM's sometimes absentmindedly vague assembly instructions. I've stopped begrudging the Betaworks team of their many hands making light work, and have come to the conclusion that the only way to build a Makerbot is with friends and family. This is something you need to experience with other people, because otherwise you might as well just buy one pre-made. 

 

The hardware burrito - less delicious than it sounds. Image c/o MakerBot

We are not even at the printing stage and I am already dreading the day that I have to turn the TOM's figurative keys over to to IFTF. Having spent this long on assembling a seemingly endless supply of M3x16 bolts, how can I trust our labor of love over to those peskily inquisitive futurists, with their grimy hands poking and prodding at our poor machine. As if those arriviste makers can understand know what it means to build a MakerBot.