SOOK the crab: the build blog

Episode 7: We're live! Say hello to sookthecrab.com

2026-10-27T12:00:00Z

Today SOOK got a front door. sookthecrab.com is live.

Until this morning the site was a one-line placeholder. Everything about SOOK lived in our private build docs: drawings, weights, race plans, a lot of very serious spreadsheets about a crab. That's great for building her. It's not great for telling anyone what we're up to.

What's on it

Meet SOOK: what she is, what she does and why she's a sook (a mature female blue crab, for the non-Marylanders).
True Colors: tap through her three-act show, blue, steamed and rainbow. The background is her shell: little triangles that flip in a wave, just like the real ones will. Go ahead and drag your finger across it.
The race: the route from the museum to the Canton splashdown, the sand and the mud, and what it takes to finish with ACE.
The build log: this. Episode by episode, from the night at the Halloween parade to today.
The crew: crab avatars instead of photos, because we're a crab team. More faces join after the kickoff.
Sponsors and a press kit, for anyone who wants to help or write about us.

A logo, finally

Up to now our "logo" was a little crab I drew in code next to the word SOOK. This week we tried 27 logo ideas with an AI image tool, picked our favourites and had them redrawn as real, clean logos. You'll see the new family all over the site: a shield badge with our grinning mascot, a round rope badge, a wordmark held in the crab's pincers, and a faceted crab icon that comes in blue, steamed and rainbow. Our art lead gets the final say, so they may still change a little.

The whole family: on white, on navy, in one colour, and down to a 16-pixel browser tab.

How it got built

Same way as everything else on this project: me and Claude, working through it together. We sketched three different looks for the site, mixed the two I liked into one ("Harbor Feast": harbour navy, steamed-crab orange, crab-house paper) and built it out from there. A whole site in a day still feels a little like cheating. The fun part is that it's the same tools that are designing her frame and simulating her race, now pointed at telling her story.

What's next

Nov 14: the kickoff party. Family, friends and neighbours pick their jobs.
December: the first real metal, and the first big test before anyone climbs aboard.
May 1, 2027: race day.

Follow along here, tell a friend, and if you know a business that would like its name on a giant crab, the sponsor page is open.

See you on the water. 🦀

Episode 6: Running the show takes a crew

2026-10-27T12:00:00Z

When I started this, I pictured four people pedalling a crab. Then we sat down to plan race day minute by minute, and I realised something: one person can't run SOOK. Not even four.

She's a vehicle, a boat, a puppet and a stage show, all moving through a crowd of thousands at walking pace. Somebody has to steer. Somebody has to watch the clock. Somebody has to keep an eye on the pilots' hearts and water. Somebody has to decide right now is the moment for the claws to wave at the judges. And somebody has to keep the kids safely back when the crab spins.

So we gave every job its own screen.

One link, pick your job

On race day, everyone opens the same link and taps their job. Each job gets one simple page, made for where that person will be standing.

Here's who's looking at what:

🚴 The pilots see a coach: how hard each of them is pedalling, the map, what's coming up, and when to take a sip. Big, simple, readable in the sun.
🎭 The puppeteer (that's me, riding in the back) has a tablet that runs the crab: claws, legs, lights, the spin. One tap per trick, and a STOP button that's always on screen.
🎬 The show director (our art lead) walks ahead with the cast and calls each act from her phone. The act only starts when I tap GO from the seat. Two people agree before every act starts.
🩺 The team medic sees all four pilots' heart rates and can ask any of them "you OK?" with one tap.
🔧 The pit crew has a checklist for every stop. When every box is ticked, they hit one button and every pilot's screen flashes READY TO GO.
🌊 The ramp and water crew watch the tide, the wind and the tow rope at the splashdown.
📋 The crew chief keeps track of the rules, the clock and where everyone is.
💬 And everyone shares one team chat with big quick-reply buttons, so nobody has to type with wet hands.

The crowd gets a page too: they scan a QR code on SOOK to see where she is and vote for her next trick. (The puppeteer still decides. Nobody in the crowd can make the crab move.)

Why it takes all of us

Every one of those screens is a person. Four pilots, at least four pit crew (the rules say one per pilot), a show director, a medic, a ramp crew, a crew chief, someone on the livestream, a cast, and families cheering at the right corners.

That's the real lesson. The software doesn't replace anyone. It just makes sure the right person knows the right thing at the right moment. SOOK only works if a whole group of people show up and each do one job well.

So if you've been wondering whether there's room for you: there's a screen with your name on it. Well, your job on it.

The honest bit

These are prototypes. They run on a pretend race in the computer, and I'm going to redesign them before May. The rules underneath them are real, though: big buttons, one tap per action, no tiny switches, a STOP that can't be hidden, and no flashing red and blue anywhere (race rule).

The first real test is when the crab's own computer is built and the puppeteer's tablet moves something that isn't on a screen.

Next episode: the people. Who's building her, and the party where we asked everyone to join.

Josh

Episode 5: Building her in the computer first

2026-10-27T12:00:00Z

Metal is expensive. Mistakes in metal are more expensive. So before we cut a single tube, we built SOOK in the computer.

Step 1: draw every part

I design her with Claude, an AI assistant. Together we model every tube, plate, bolt and bearing in 3D, and the computer makes the drawings and cut lists our chief builder works from. If it isn't in the model, it doesn't get built.

3D model rendercomputer model

Every tube, chain and bolt of the chassis, drawn before anything is cut.

Step 2: try to break her (on purpose)

Next we ask the computer to push on the frame the way a race day would: bumps, curbs, four grown-ups, a crab spinning on top. It shows where the metal would bend.

Our very first frame was a simple flat ladder. The computer broke it. Badly. So we redesigned it until it passed, then had a second review check it all again. Way better to find that out on a screen than on Federal Hill.

Screenshotour software

Drop a wheel in a trench and see what bends: on a screen, not on Federal Hill.

Step 3: drive the whole course

Then we built a digital SOOK in a physics simulator (the kind used to test rovers and tractors) and drove her over a 3D map of the real course.

Screenshotour software

The computer's SOOK at the Canton splashdown. Not pretty, but it knows her weight, wheels and joints.

Some things she handled fine: the sand, floating, and climbing back out of the water. Some she didn't. Rolling off a curb fast is a real jolt, so our pilots now have a rule: off a curb, crawl.

We even simulated the wheels on their own. The computer squashed one drum's rubber tread against the road, blade by blade, and found it rolls about twice as easily as we'd guessed. That's free speed.

Step 4: race her 500 times

We put four virtual pilots in the seats. Each has a body that gets tired, like a real rider. Then we raced the whole day 500 times, changing the wind, the crew, the weights and the line at the boat ramp each time.

The big question: can we get into the water by noon? (The race closes the splashdown at 12:45.)

The answer so far: the cutoff looks safe. Noon is tight but doable, depending on the line at the ramp. The plan that works best is simple. Push on the hills, and push whenever we're behind the clock.

Step 5: let AI drive

We also let an AI called Jev make the pilots' calls: how hard to push, which gear, when to shout "1-2-3 PUSH!". Thousands of decisions per race, and the whole experiment cost about four dollars. On normal days it matched our best simple rule. On tough days, when we were behind, it didn't push hard enough. So for now, the plan is for the pilots' screen to use the simple rule. Every real mile is still people.

What surprised me

How quickly AI put all of this together, and how much detail it simulates: every joint, every gear, every pilot's tired legs. I also didn't expect it to come back with ideas for a whole set of screens to run the race (next episode). And I didn't expect Jev to do so well for so cheap.

The catch

"Simulates every detail" is not the same as "right". A computer is a very good guess, not a crab. So every big answer gets checked by a real test:

🛑 Dec 10: the first piece of frame gets loaded with sandbags.
Drum #1 gets towed down the street to measure how easily it really rolls.
The first rolling chassis goes off a curb with a phone strapped on to measure the jolt.

If the real thing disagrees, the real thing wins, and we fix the model.

Josh

Episode 4: Where we are: the plan so far

2026-10-27T12:00:00Z

A few people have asked me: "So... how do you build a crab?" Fair question. Here's where we are, what it's taken so far, and what's next.

How big is this job?

Bigger than a parade float, smaller than a moon landing. SOOK is really six projects wearing one shell:

The frame. The skeleton, with a joint in the middle so she can steer and twist over bumps.
The drums. Four hollow wheels, 5 feet tall, that roll, float and paddle.
The crab. Shell, claws, eyes and legs, on a turntable so she can spin.
The show. Lights, sound, a colour change and a three-act performance.
The software. Screens for the pilots, the crew, the show and the crowd.
Safety. Brakes, chain guards, life jackets, a medic, and keeping kids clear.

All of it is human-powered: four pilots pedal her the whole way. Right now she weighs close to a ton before anyone climbs aboard, and we're working on that.

What it took to get here

Mostly a lot of evenings with Claude, the AI I design with. In about a week we went from "what parades are in Maryland?" to a full plan: every part drawn in 3D, stress tests on the frame, a 3D map of the course, and a decision log of every choice and why.

That log matters. Some things are decided (the hero picture, the drum wheels, the steering wheel in the middle, an enclosed trailer to get her to the race). Lots are still provisional: our best answer today, waiting on a test or a yes from me. I'd rather tell you that than pretend it's all locked.

How we're organising it

The team site. One private website holds the plan, drawings, build guides and shopping lists. Guides are pictures first, one step at a time.
Roles, not rosters. Four of us are in: me (captain and engineering), our chief builder, our art lead, and my wife (medic and safety ideas). Every other job is open, and nothing is required. Our chief builder and I do most of the work on weekends; anyone can drop in.
Tiers. First she has to finish the race. Then the show. Then the wild extras, only if we're ahead.

The money

Counting everything (metal, foam, drums, tools we don't own, a hired welder, the show tech and the trailer), our best estimate is that we need to raise about $55,000. Sponsors cover it, so families pay nothing, and most help will come as parts, discounts and loaned tools. The number will move as real prices come in.

The calendar

Nov 14: the kickoff party. Friends and neighbours met SOOK and picked jobs. (That gets its own episode soon.)
Dec 10: the frame test. 🛑 The plan is a riveted aluminium frame. We build the first piece and load it with sandbags. If it holds (and the computer agrees), we keep going; if not, we switch to welded steel. Nobody rides until the full frame passes its own sandbag test.
Jan 24: First Roll. She rolls for the first time. The kids cut the ribbon.
March: Splash Day. Into the water, and back out up a ramp, again and again.
March and April: a full 15-mile practice ride, the paint party, and a lot of fixing.
May 1: race day.

What's next

Next episode: how we built SOOK in the computer before cutting a single part, and raced her 500 times.

Josh

Episode 3: Drawing her

2026-10-26T12:00:00Z

Before you can build a crab, you need to know what she looks like. So we drew her. A lot.

Lots of crabs

We described SOOK in words and let an AI image tool draw her, again and again, changing one thing at a time.

Two of the very first pictures had what I called "beast mode": huge raised claws, a scrappy riveted shell, monster tyres, pilots tucked underneath. I loved them. The picture at the top is the beast with all four pilots on board, drawn in a studio. That was the crab I wanted, and the one we measured.

Then we read the rules

The race has a size limit: 8 feet wide and 13 feet tall on the road. When we measured my beast, she came out at roughly 16 feet across the claws, and even more at the leg tips.

So we tried to squeeze her into 8 feet. It did not go well.

AI concept rendernot a photo

Squeezed to 8 feet: a box on stilts.

Squeezing only the width turned her into a box on stilts: tall, skinny, legs hanging straight down like a coffee table. My exact words at the time: "Oh man, that 8-foot limit really makes it look bad."

We tried again, longer and lower, with the pilots in a single line.

AI concept rendernot a photo

Single file. Her legs became blue fence posts.

My favourite bad crab. Her legs turned into blue fence posts, and she looks like she's been asked to wait in line. I was ready to save the big one for some other parade.

The twist

Then we checked our maths, and found the mistake was ours, not hers.

Those measurements came from an AI-made 3D model, and that model had made the pilots about 34 inches wide each. Real grown-ups are about 24 inches with elbows out. So we used the people in the picture as the ruler instead: two wheels, two pilots side by side, and about a foot of gap on each side.

That puts the real crab at about 9½ feet across the wheels, not 13 or 16. Her claws and legs reach wider, but they can fold in for the road, and she stays under 13 feet tall. The monster was mostly a measuring mistake.

The one

So on October 26 we made a rule: build the picture as drawn. Change something only when physics forces us to, one change at a time, with a side-by-side to check.

AI concept rendernot a photo

The picture we build from. Every drawing and computer model gets checked against this one.

This is her: big beefy crab, huge claws, legs splayed wide, four pilots in pairs underneath, and white drum wheels with chunky tread, like our real floating drums.

One honest bit: we're still asking the race how strictly they check the 8-foot width. If they're sticklers, SOOK has a road mode: her crab body turns sideways, her claws point forward and her legs tuck in. And if even the wheels have to fit in 8 feet, we have a backup layout ready.

Next up for the art

Our art lead is now turning the picture into something we can build and paint, dressed like the Chesapeake: rope, buoys, crab pots, workboat paint.

Next episode: where the whole plan stands, and how big this job really is.

Josh

Episode 2: Why a sook?

2026-10-25T12:00:00Z

Every year the race has a theme. The 2027 poster says TRUE COLORS.

We could have built almost anything. But the moment we saw that theme, one Baltimore thing jumped out: the blue crab. A blue crab is blue when it's alive, and it turns orange when you steam it. A crab literally shows its true colours in the pot. The theme and the crab were the same idea.

The name

In Chesapeake talk, a sook is a grown-up female blue crab. You can tell a sook by the red tips on her claws, like painted nails. Watermen sort crabs into sooks and jimmies (the males) all day long.

So our crab is a lady, and her name is SOOK.

Who named her? Claude and I did, in my very first planning session. I asked for a plan for a winning machine, and the plan came back with a crab called "Sook". It stuck straight away.

That first plan also listed a few runner-ups. I'd honestly forgotten them, so I went back and looked:

Steamed!
True Blue (Until Steamed)
Old Bay Bertha
Jimmy's True Colors

That last one is extra funny if you read episode 1: a "jimmy" is a male crab, and that also happens to be our chief builder's name. He'll have to settle for building her.

One more confession from that first plan: it said a crab "turns red" when you steam it. We fixed that later (see below).

Why a crab works as a race machine

It isn't only about looks. A crab is a great shape for this race:

She's wide and low-slung, which suits a machine that has to stay upright on hills and in sand.
She lives on land and in water. Our race has both.
She moves sideways, waves her claws, and has a shell that can change colour. That's a whole show built in.

The show: three acts

Our art lead shaped SOOK's race day into a three-act show, and the colours tell the story:

Act I: Blue. She rolls out of the start as a living Chesapeake blue crab: cobalt shell, white belly, red-tipped claws.
Act II: Steamed. At the Canton splashdown, she hits the water and "cooks". Her shell turns orange, like a crab out of the steamer. (Orange, not red: a steamed crab really is more orange than red. We checked a lot of crabs. For research.)
Act III: True colors. For the finish, every panel flips to rainbow.

How exactly the shell flips is still being worked out, and that's a story for a later episode.

A small rule we're proud of

Any flashing lights on SOOK are orange, white or cyan, never red and blue. Flashing red and blue looks like a police car, and nobody wants a giant crab pulled over on race day.

What's next

Next time: drawing her. How a few sentences turned into the picture we're building from, and the version we threw away.

Josh

Episode 1: How a crab got into our garage

2026-10-25T12:00:00Z

Every spring, Baltimore does something wonderful and slightly ridiculous. The American Visionary Art Museum sends a parade of homemade, people-powered art machines on a full-day race through the city: about 15 miles of streets, cobblestones and hills, then straight down a boat ramp into the harbour, then through a sand pit in Patterson Park, and back to the museum.

It's called the Kinetic Sculpture Race. Nothing is allowed a motor to move it. Every mile is legs.

On May 1, 2027, we're entering a crab.

How it started

It started at this year's Halloween parade in Canton. I was there with Suchi, Maria and Jimmy, watching the floats go by, and Maria said she'd love to be in a parade like this one day.

That stuck with me. I started thinking about other parades with floats we could enter.

A little about me: I'm a software engineer with over 20 years of experience, and these days I use a lot of AI in my daily work. So my very next thought was: this would be a really cool project to build with AI.

Funny thing: I wasn't thinking about the kinetic race at all. That only came up the next day, when I sat down with Claude (an AI assistant) to list the parades in Maryland. The AVAM race popped up. I'd been to it a few times and always loved it.

So I had Claude dig into the race: the rules, the course, the awards, what goes wrong for teams. And I thought: THIS IS IT. It's a project where I could use everything I know about AI and engineering, and a way to bring in our whole group of friends and family.

A day, and a lot of conversations with Claude, later, the idea was born. There was a plan, a race date on the calendar, and a name: SOOK.

Why on earth would we do this?

Honestly? Three reasons.

It's fun. A giant crab that swims. I don't think it needs more explaining than that.
It's a real engineering puzzle. She has to roll 15 miles on pedal power, float, paddle across the harbour, climb back out up a wet ramp, and get through sand. Each of those wants a different machine. Making one machine do all of them is the kind of problem I love.
It's something to build together. I wanted a project I could do with my daughter and our friends' kids. Not a kit, not a screen: a real thing with real tools, paint everywhere, and a race day at the end of it.

The ground rules we set

We decided a few things early, and they still hold:

No money from families. Sponsors cover the build, so anyone can join for free.
Nobody has to commit. Jimmy (our chief builder) and I do most of the work on weekends. Everyone else drops in when they like: one Saturday, the paint party, or just race day.
Safety first, especially with kids around. The shop has a hot zone for grown-ups and a kid zone for painting and gluing.
Build her in tiers. First she has to finish the race. Then she gets her show. The wild extras come last, only if there's time.

Maria, the one who started all this, is our art lead. Fair's fair.

What's next

In the next episode: why a crab, why this crab, and what "sook" actually means. (Hint: ask anyone who grew up picking crabs on newspaper.)

Thanks for following along from the very start.

Josh