Switching Converter For EEPROM Programmer Taxes Solderless Breadboard

We all know that solderless breadboards have their limitations. All that stray capacitance can play hell with circuits, especially high-speed stuff, but they’re so darn useful that avoiding them in favor of some other prototyping method can be really hard. So we often just forge ahead, plugging in our parts and hoping for the best

A recent veteran of the breadboard battle is [Anders Nielsen], who kicked off a new project by prototyping this high-voltage boost converter on a breadboard, with mixed results. The project is a scratch-built programmer for old-school ROM chips, a task normally farmed out to a dedicated programmer, but where’s the sport in that? Besides, this is the future, and generating the 12 to 14 volts needed should be a snap. And it would be, except for the fact that his chosen chip, a MIC2288 switching boost regulator, is only available in an SMD package. Getting the chip and a few other SMD support components onto breadboard-compatible breakouts proved to be challenging, and getting it working once it was there was even more work.

A lot of the trouble was down to simple breadboarding errors, but the big problem was the input capacitance, which [Anders] had to fiddle with quite a bit to get the converter to 14 volts. The current maxes out at about 25 mA before the voltage starts dropping, which just might be enough to burn those old chips, so we’ll call this a provisional win and see what happens when he builds the rest of the programmer.

[Anders]’ experience here raises a good question: what’s the best way to prototype using fussy SMD components? PCBs are cheap enough that it’s tempting to go straight to one, but swapping parts in and out like he had to do here to get everything just right would be much harder that way. We’re not sure we know the answer, but we’re pretty sure we’ll hear your thoughts on that in the comments section.

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Upgrade Puts A Lot Of Zeroes On Kit-Built Frequency Counter

If there’s anything more viscerally pleasing than seeing an eight-digit instrument showing a measurement with all zeroes after the decimal point, we’re not sure what it could. Maybe rolling the odometer over to another 100,000 milestone?

Regardless, getting to such a desirable degree of accuracy isn’t always easy, especially when the instrument in question is a handheld frequency counter that was built from a kit 23 years ago. That’s the target of [Petteri Aimonen]’s accuracy upgrade, specifically by the addition of a custom frequency reference module. The instrument is an ELV FC-500, which for such an old design looks surprisingly modern. Its Achille’s heel in terms of accuracy is the plain crystal oscillator it uses as a frequency standard, which has no temperature compensation and thus drifts by about 0.2 ppm per degree.

For a mains-powered lab instrument, the obvious solution would be an oven-controlled crystal oscillator. Those are prohibitive in terms of space and power for a handheld instrument, so instead a VCTCXO — voltage-controlled, temperature-compensated crystal oscillator — was selected for better stability. Unfortunately, no such oscillators matching the original 4.096-MHz crystal spec could be found; luckily, a 16.384-MHz unit was available for less than €20. All that was required was a couple of flip-flops to divide the signal by four and a bit of a bodge to replace the original frequency standard. A trimmer allows for the initial calibration — the “VC” part — and the tiny PCB tucks inside the case near the battery compartment.

We enjoyed the simplicity of this upgrade — almost as much as we enjoyed seeing all those zeroes. When you know, you know.

Dry Ice From Seashells, The Hard (But Cheap) Way

[Hyperspace Pirate] wants to make his own dry ice, but he wants it to be really, really cheap. So naturally, his first stop is… the beach?

That’s right, the beach, because that’s where to find the buckets of free seashells that he turned into dry ice. Readers may recall previous efforts at DIY dry ice, which used baking soda and vinegar as a feedstock. We’d have thought those were pretty cheap materials for making carbon dioxide gas, but not cheap enough for [Hyperspace Pirate], as the dry ice he succeeded in making from them came out to almost ten bucks a pound. The low yield of the process probably had more to do with the high unit cost, in truth, so cheaper feedstocks and improved yield would attack the problem from both ends.

With a supply of zero-cost calcium carbonate from the beach and a homemade ZVS-powered induction heater tube furnace at the ready, [Hyperspace Pirate] was ready to make quicklime and capture the CO2 liberated in the process. That proved to be a little more difficult than planned since the reaction needed not just heat but a partial vacuum to drive the CO2 off. An oil-free vacuum pump helped, yielding a little CO2, but eventually he knuckled under and just doused the shells in vinegar. This had the fun side effect of creating calcium acetate, which when distilled not only corrodes the copper still plumbing but also makes a lousy but still flammable grade of acetone. Once enough CO2 was stored in a couple of beach balls, the process of cooling and condensing it into dry ice was pretty much the same as the previous method, except for taking advantage of the Joule-Thomson cryocooler he built a while back.

The result is a hundred or so grams of dry ice snow, which isn’t great but still shows promise. [Hyperspace Pirate] feels like the key to improving this process is more heat to really drive the calcination reaction. Might we suggest a DIY tube furnace for that job?

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This Pogo Pin Test Fixture Keep Your SMDs From Taking Flight

There’s no denying how useful surface mount technology is, and how enabling the ability to make really small circuits has become. It comes at a price, though; most of us probably know what it’s like for the slightest wrong move to send a part the size of a grain of sand into another dimension.

To help make testing these parts a little easier, [IMSAI Guy] has come up with this clever little SMD test fixture. It’s designed to hook up to another custom board, which in turn connects to a wonderful old Hewlett-Packard 4275A LCR meter. The jig is based on two pogo pins mounted directly across from each other on a scrap of single-clad PCB. The spring-loaded contacts, which short together when not in use, are pulled apart to load an SMD part, like the 1-μH inductors shown in the video below. The pins hold the component firmly and make good electrical contact, allowing hands-free testing without the risk of an errant touch of the test probes sending it flying.

While the test fixture works well for larger SMDs, we could see this being a bit fussy for smaller parts. That would be easy enough to fix with perhaps some 3D-printed arms that retract the pogo pins symmetrically, holding them open until the part is loaded. A centering fixture might help too, as would a clear shield to contain any parts that get the urge to go for a ride. But, for the tactical application [IMSAI Guy] has in mind, this sure seems like enough.

Just getting into surface mount? If so, you might want to check out this handy guide to the often cryptic markings used on SMD parts.

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Mining And Refining: Titanium, Our Youngest Industrial Metal

Earlier in this series, we made the case for copper being “the metal that built technology.” Some readers took issue with that statement, noting correctly that meteoric iron and gold were worked long before our ancestors were able to locate and exploit natural copper outcroppings, therefore beating copper to the historical punch. That seems to miss the point, though; figuring out how to fashion gold decorations and iron trinkets doesn’t seem like building the foundations for industry. Learning to make tools from copper, either pure or alloyed with tin to make bronze? Now that’s how you build an industrial base.

So now comes the time for us to make the case for our most recent addition to humanity’s stable of industrial metals: titanium. Despite having been discovered in 1791, titanium remained locked away inside abundantly distributed ores until the 1940s, when the technological demands of a World War coupled with a growing chemical prowess and command of sufficient energy allowed us to finally wrest the “element of the gods” from its minerals. The suddenness of it all is breathtaking, too; in 1945, titanium was still a fantastically expensive laboratory oddity, but just a decade later, we were producing it by the (still very expensive) ton and building an entirely new aerospace industry around the metal.

In this installment of “Mining and Refining,” we’ll take a look at titanium and see why it took us over 11,000 years to figure out how to put it to work for us.

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Cockpit Instrument Respectfully Retasked As A Clock

How do you convert an old cockpit instrument into a clock? Easy: just build a circuit that convinces it it’s in the air, and the rest will take care of itself.

Now obviously, little about [porkfreezer]’s conversion of King KI 266 DME into a clock was actually easy; working with avionics rarely is. DME stands for “Distance Measuring Equipment,” an instrument that’s part of the radio navigation suite of many aircraft. DME measures the line-of-sight distance of a plane to a ground station by measuring the time it takes for a signal to return after the plane interrogates it. The plane-mounted equipment includes a UHF transceiver and a display for the cockpit instrument panel, which accepts an analog voltage signal from the transceiver and translates it into a readout on the nice Panaplex digital display.

Rather than gutting the thing and just driving the display directly, [porkfreezer] decided to build a circuit to generate the proper signals for the DME. The board uses a PIC16 and an MCP47C dual 10-bit digital-to-analog converter to generate the voltages needed, while a USB-powered DC-DC converter provides the ±15 volt supply the DME display expects.

Everything lives on a PCB that fits right on the back of the instrument. Sadly, the connector needed to mate up to the one on the instrument was outlandishly expensive — again, avionics — so [porkfreezer] had to solder the board directly to the DME’s pins. Otherwise, this would have been a completely reversible hack.

Still, it’s an interesting reuse of an unusual piece of gear, and one that respects the original design as much as possible. That counts as a win in our book.

Retrotechtacular: The Story Of Turpentine

If someone in 2023 has ever had much call to use turpentine, chances are good it was something to do with paint or other wood finishes, like varnish. Natural turpentine is the traditional solvent of choice for oil paints, which have decreased in popularity with the rise of easy-to-clean polymer-based paints and coating. Oh sure, there are still those who prefer oil paint, especially for trim work — it lays up so nice — but by and large, turpentine seems like a relic from days gone by, like goose grease and castor oil.

It wasn’t always so, though. Turpentine used to be a very big deal indeed, as shown by this circa 1940 documentary on the turpentine harvesting and processing industry. Even then it was only a shadow of its former glory, when it was a vital part of a globe-spanning naval empire and a material of the utmost strategic importance. “Suwanee Pine” shows the methods used in the southern United States, where fast-growing pines offer up a resinous organic gloop in response to wounds in their bark. The process shown looks a lot like the harvesting process for natural latex, with slanting gashes or “catfaces” carved into the trunks of young trees, forming channels to guide the exudate down into a clay collecting cup.

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