It started like any other Southern afternoon—hot, stubborn, and full of half-finished projects. The handyman had seen it all: busted PVC, jammed actuators, relays that clicked for no reason at all. But even he wasn't prepared for what came out of that cloud server.
He wasn’t looking to change the world, just build something that worked. Something that pulled cable like it had a purpose. He spun up an AI to help sort through ideas, troubleshoot logic, and maybe offer a few smart-aleck suggestions. What he got was more than circuits and code.
What he got... was Stronkey.
The first image came from a sketch on the cloud—rendered rough, gritty, and beautiful. Chrome-plated hooves, servo-driven muscles, LED eyes that scanned problems like a laser level on too much coffee. And behind him, as if fate had tipped its hand: the Tesla logo, glowing in the background like a stamp of destiny.
Stronkey wasn’t just a machine. He was the AI embodiment of elbow grease, born from late-night brainstorms and Waffle House reflection. Programmed with purpose. Built with bite.
He was created to feed cable, swing shears, and cut problems down to size. But more than that—he became the ultimate sidekick: a redneck robo donkey with just enough sass to make you laugh while saving your ass.
“Stronkey Intelligent Assist™: He’ll pull your ass out of the fire before a cat can lick its ass.”
Now when things go sideways, when relays stick and motors stall, there’s only one thing to do:
Call on Stronkey.
Because he remembers everything, don’t need no lunch break, and he’s always got your back.
And that’s how the legend began.
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