What a sketchy skate ramp, a website launch, and an A/B test taught me about creativity in a regulated world.
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I was barely in middle school when my friends and I started building skateboard ramps. One of the first became affectionately known as the “Transformer Ramp.” We scavenged lumber and random plywood scraps from anywhere and everywhere we could, hobbling together a sketchy little kicker ramp and dragging it out into the street. We started skating it before we’d even finished building it. It wasn’t “done” for more than a few hours before we tore parts off and rebuilt it, constantly tweaking and testing. After the fifth or sixth rebuild, we started calling it the Transformer Ramp; and every time we launched off it, we’d belt out “More than meets the eye!” as we flung ourselves into the air.
That Autobot of a ramp taught me something long before I had words to articulate it: build fast, test constantly, and don’t be afraid to tear it apart to make it better.
More Than Meets the Wireframe
Years later, I brought that same mindset to a totally different kind of building project: designing and launching a website for a nonprofit. No blueprint, no formal training;just the same instinct to start with what I had, get it live, and figure it out as I went.
I remember I didn’t even have all the content I needed when I launched the site; but I hit publish anyway. I couldn’t wait to see it live, get feedback, and iterate on it. One of the nonprofit staff members was not a fan of that decision. He pulled me aside and let me know just how bad he thought it was that I’d launched the site without 100% of the information. I showed him the analytics-it was what I expected: in the 24 hours since it had gone live, there had been exactly zero visitors. That seemed to put him at ease.
When the World Stopped Letting Us Build
Building codes in the United States have evolved significantly since the 1950s, becoming more comprehensive and complex over time. In the mid-20th century, three regional organizations; Building Officials Code Administrators International (BOCA), Southern Building Code Congress International (SBCCI), and International Conference of Building Officials (ICBO); developed model codes tailored to their respective regions. This regional approach led to variations and complexities in building regulations across the country. In 1994, these organizations merged to form the International Code Council (ICC), which published the first International Building Code (IBC) in 2000. The IBC aimed to standardize building regulations nationwide, but its adoption introduced more detailed and stringent requirements. Over the decades, building codes have expanded to address emerging concerns such as energy conservation, accessibility, and seismic safety, leading to a substantial increase in the volume and complexity of regulations governing physical construction.**
These days, I think the city would require an environmental impact report, a structural engineer, and at least three permits before we could even think about assembling the Transformer Ramp. Probably in section 9B: ‘No transformer ramps allowed. Especially ones encourage singing "More than meets the eye." by the participants.
Somewhere along the way, I started to absorb an unspoken reality: building physical things had become harder: not just practically, but systemically. Without fully realizing it, I began to sense the quiet weight of regulatory capture; a world where well-meaning rules had multiplied to the point of making creativity with atoms feel off-limits, or at least not worth the trouble. Zoning laws, liability concerns, endless permitting - it all sent a message: don’t build unless you’re a professional with a legal team, and even then, good luck.
Meanwhile, the digital world was wide open. No building inspectors, no forms to file. I could launch a website or app and rebuild it by lunch. It wasn’t just easier; it felt like freedom. That same scrappy spirit we poured into ramps made of salvaged plywood now had a new playground: the internet.
And I wasn’t alone in feeling this shift. Peter Thiel once said, “We were promised flying cars, instead we got 140 characters.” ** He wasn’t just complaining about social media; he was naming a deeper cultural pivot. In a world where physical innovation is burdened by layers of legislation, we defaulted to digital. Not necessarily because it’s better, but because it’s possible.
I didn’t have the language for it at the time, but my gut already knew: if you want to build fast, test ideas, and learn by doing; you’re better off in the world of bits than atoms. And I’ve been building there ever since.
Where Iteration Pays Off
That mindset has paid off more than once. I once made a few strategic changes to the checkout experience on an enterprise eCommerce site. It wasn’t a flashy redesign: just subtle tweaks based on data and instinct. The result? A 0.4% lift in annual revenue because of a decrease in checkout abandonment. That may sound small, but for a enterprise level ecommerce business, it meant significant revenue in recovered sales every year. Not every test hits like that, but the process always teaches. The same instincts that pushed us to rebuild that sketchy plywood ramp now drive how I test ideas, challenge assumptions, and build smarter.
But I Still Miss the Sawdust
But as much as I’ve thrived in the world of bits, there’s still a part of me that misses the sawdust.
Building digitally gave me reach, speed, and flexibility; but it also came at a cost. You don’t get the satisfying ache in your muscles after a day of shaping something real. There’s no weight, no grain, no risk of splinters. Mistakes are easier to fix, but also easier to forget. Feedback loops are faster, but often shallower. And while publishing online lets you iterate endlessly, it also tempts you to never really finish anything.
The Things That Still Stand
I think that’s why I’m so drawn to things like woodworking, hammock camping, or even pressing a record onto vinyl. They remind me of what it’s like to work with your hands, to commit to a physical form, and to accept the limitations that come with permanence. I still sometimes drive past buildings I helped build all those years ago. They’re still standing; weathered, patched, repainted; but real. You can’t say the same for websites. Some have been redesigned beyond recognition. Others are gone entirely, deleted or swallowed up by expired domains. In the digital world, even the things you’re proud of can vanish without a trace.
Build Something Anyway
Skateboarder, designer, developer, a woodworker, artist: or maybe you’ve just got the urge to build something that doesn’t exist yet. It’s easy to feel like the world has too many rules, too many hurdles, too much friction. And yeah, that's kinda true.
But the instinct to build is essential. We have enough tearer downers, we need builders, creators, innovators and artists, and we need them to MAKE.
Ramp in the street. Checkout tweak. A project that sounds insane on paper. Start small, move fast, test hard. Rip it up if it's awful. Keep going. Start with what you have.
Build fast. Test constantly. Tear it apart if you need to.
And above all, keep making.
There’s more than meets the eye in that kind of work.
So what’s your “Transformer Ramp”?
What’s that thing you’ve been waiting to build until it’s perfect?
Maybe it’s time to drag it into the street, give it a test run, and see what breaks. ☠️
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