“[Wood] knocked on the door of my house, in my factory, and he showed up with a couple of Bengals,” Jones says. “He walks in and he looks up—you gotta look up, because it’s over nine feet tall—and he starts laughing and giggling. He goes, ‘You’re shitting me! What the fuck were you smoking?!’” After a brief explanation on how to get in (a built-in staircase counterbalanced by the movement arm, naturally), Jones says Wood loaded up the machine—and kept loading. After blasting out some sets and clambering down the stairs, Wood rendered his verdict. It’s been more than 30 years, but Jones remembers it along these lines: “I still don’t know what you were smoking, but it was some good shit. We’ll sell that.” That was more than 30 years ago, as the story goes. H-Squats were delivered to the Bengals’ weight room, specialty gyms, and even people’s homes; according to Jones, one customer, a contractor, cut a hole in his living room floor to make room, while another went the opposite direction—by digging …