The modern hacker and maker has an incredible array of tools at their disposal — even a modestly appointed workbench these days would have seemed like science-fiction a couple decades ago. Desktop 3D printers, laser cutters, CNC mills, lathes, the list goes on and on. But what good is all that fancy gear if you don’t put it to work once and awhile?
If we had to guess, we’d say dust never gets a chance to accumulate on any of the tools in [Ed Nisley]’s workshop. According to his blog, the prolific hacker is either building or repairing something on a nearly daily basis. All of his posts are worth reading, but the multifaceted rebuilding of a Anker LC-40 flashlight from a couple months back recently caught our eye.
[Thomas] comes up with some unusual gear. In his latest teardown and repair video, he has a vintage 1943 Danish oscilloscope, a Radiometer OSG32 on the bench. It isn’t lightweight, and it certainly looks its age with a vintage cracked finish on the case. You can check out the tubes and high-voltage circuitry in the video below.
If you’ve only seen the inside of a modern scope, you’ll want to check this out with giant condensers (capacitors) and a slew of tubes. We love seeing the workmanship on these old chassis.
To anyone who remembers Y2K, Sony’s MiniDisc format will probably always feel futuristic. That goes double for Sony’s MZ-RH1, the last MiniDisk recorder ever released, back in 2006. It’s barely larger than the diminutive disks, and its styling is impeccable. There’s a reason they’ve become highly collectible and sell for insane sums on e-Bay.
Unfortunately, they come with a ticking time-bomb of an Achilles heel: the first-generation OLED screens. Failure is not a question of if, but when, and many units have already succumbed. Fortunately enterprising hacker [Sir68k] has come up with replacement screen to keep these two-decade old bits of the future alive.
Replacement screens glowing brightly, and the custom firmware showing track info, something you’d never see on a stock RH1.
Previous revisions required some light surgery to get the twin OLED replacement screens to fit, but as of the latest incarnation (revision F+), it’s now a 100% drop-in replacement for the original Sony part. While it is a drop-in, don’t expect it to be easy. The internals are very densely packed, and fairly delicate — both in the name of miniaturization. You’ll need to break out the micro-screwdrivers for this one, and maybe some magnifiers if your eyes are as old as ours. At least Sony wasn’t gluing cases together back in 2006, and [Sir68k] does provide a very comprehensive repair guide.
He’s even working on new firmware, to make what many considered best MD recorder better than ever. It’s not ready yet, but when it is [Sir68k] promises to open-source the upgrade. The replacement screens are sadly not open source hardware, but they’re a fine hack nonetheless.
While talking computers are old hat today, in 1978, a talking toy like the Speak and Spell was the height of novel tech. [Kevin] found a vintage one, but it didn’t work. It looked like someone had plugged in the wrong power adapter, leading to, undoubtedly, one or more unhappy children. There was some damage that suggests someone had already tried to repair it, but without success.
In addition to effecting the repair, [Kevin] took lots of pictures, so if you ever wanted to peek inside one of these, this is your chance. The case had no screws, just clips, although apparently some of the newer models did have some screws.
[Menadue] had a vintage Compucorp 326 calculator with an aging problem. Specifically, the flex cable that connects the button pad had turned corroded over time. However, thanks to the modern PCB industrial complex, replacing the obscure part was relatively straightforward!
The basic idea was simple enough: measure the original flex cable, and recreate it with the flat-flex PCB options available at many modern PCB houses that cater to small orders and hobbyists. [Menadue] had some headaches, having slightly misjudged the pitch of the individual edge-connector contacts. However, he figured that if lined up just right, it was close enough to still work. With the new flex installed, the calculator sprung into life…only several keys weren’t working. Making a new version with the correct pitch made all the difference, however, and the calculator was restored to full functionality.
When your GPU fan goes rogue with an unholy screech, you either shell out for a new one or you go full hacker mode. Well, [ashafq] did the latter. The result is a delightfully nerdy fan controller powered by an ATTiny85 and governed by a DS18B20 temperature sensor. We all know a silent workstation is golden, and there’s no fun in throwing money at an off-the-shelf solution. [ashafq]’s custom build transforms a whiny Radeon RX 550 into a cool, quiet operator. Best of all: it’s built from bits likely already in your junk drawer.
To challenge himself a bit, [ashafq] rolled his own temperature-triggered PWM logic using 1-wire protocol on an ATtiny85, all without libraries or bloated firmware. The fan’s speed only ramps up when the GPU gets toasty, just like it should. It’s efficient and clever, and that makes it a fine hack. The entire system runs off a scavenged 12V fan. He could have used a 3D printer, but decided to stick onto the card with double-sided tape. McGyver would approve.
The results don’t lie: idle temps at 40 °C, load peaking at 60 °C. Quieter than stock, smarter than stock, and way cheaper too. The double-sided tape may not last, but that leaves room for improvement. In case you want to start on it yourself, read the full write-up and feel inspired to build your own. Hackaday.io is ready for the documentation of your take on it.
Normally, mechanical devices like record players move smoothly, with well-greased contact surfaces enabling the tone arm to automatically move, the multi-record mechanism to drop down a fresh disc, and the listener to have a generally good time. Unfortunately, the 1972-era ITT KP821 record player that [Mark] got recently handed by a friend wasn’t doing a lot of moving, with every part of the mechanism seemingly frozen in place, though the current owner wasn’t certain that they were doing something wrong.
Fortunately, this record player was in exceptionally good condition.. The primary failure was that the BSR record player mechanism, with its many touching metal surfaces, was suffering from a bad case of solidified grease. Although this is easily fixed with some IPA and a lot of elbow grease, the biggest trick with these mechanisms is putting it back together after cleaning, with many seemingly randomly shaped parts and every single E-clip that the manufacturer could design for and source at the time.
With that complete, this just left some pot cleaning and replacing a busted fuse in the amplifier section. The selenium rectifier was still functional, as were the SGS TAA621AX1 audio amplifier ICs. Despite the age of this ‘portable’ record player, both its BSR mechanism and the twin speakers that are part of the record player are in remarkably good condition. Much like with a car, it seems that you just have to swap out the liquid-y elements before they turn into a solid.
