Metric, Imperial, And Flexibility

Al Williams wrote up a seemingly innocent piece on a couple of rules-of-thumb to go between metric and US traditional units, and the comment section went wild! Nothing seems to rile up the Hackaday comment section like the choice of what base to use for your unit system. I mean, an idealized version of probably an ancient Egyptian’s foot versus a fraction of the not-quite-right distance from the North Pole to the equator as it passes through Paris? Six of one, half a dozen the other, as far as I’m concerned. Both are arbitrary.

What’s fun, though, is how many of us need to know both systems and how schizophrenic it all can be. My favorite example is PCB layout, where tenths and thousandths of an inch are unavoidable in through-hole and surface-mount parts, yet we call out board sizes and drill bits in millimeters – on the same object, and without batting an eye. American 3D printer enthusiasts will know their M3 hardware, and probably even how much a kilogram weighs, because that’s what you buy spools of filament in. Oddly enough, though I live in Europe, I have 3/4” thread on my garden hose and a 29” monitor on my desk. Americans buy two liter bottles of soda without thinking twice.

The absolute kings of this are in the UK, where the distance between cities is measured in miles, but the dimensions of an apartment in meters. They’ll buy gas in liters and beer in pints. Humans are measured both in feet-and-inches and centimeters, and weighed in pounds, kilograms, or even stone.

And I think that’s just fine. Once you give up on the rightness of either system, they both have their pros and cons. Millimeters are superb for doing carpentry in – that’s just about how tight my tolerances are with hand tools anyway, and if it’s made of wood, you can fudge 0.5 mm either way pretty easily. Sure, you could measure in 32nds of an inch, but have you ever bought a plywood sheet that’s 1536 x 3072 thirty-seconds? (That’s 4’ x 8’, or 1200 mm x 2400 mm.) No, you haven’t.

But maybe stick to one system when lives or critical systems are on the line. Or at least be very careful to call out your units. While it’s annoying to spec the wrong SMT part size because KiCAD calls some of them out in millimeters and inches – 0402 in inches is tiny, but 0402 in metric is microscopic – it’s another thing entirely to load up half as much fuel as you need for a commercial airline flight because of metric vs imperial tons. There’s a limit to how units-flexible you want to be.

A Love Letter To Prototype Zero

An old friend of mine at my hackerspace introduced me to the concept of Prototype Zero: The Version that Even Your Own Sweet Mother Isn’t Allowed to See. The idea is that when you’re building something truly new, or even just new to you, your first take will almost always be ugly, and nothing will work the way it will by the time you make your second one. But it’s also important to the exercise that you see it all the way through to the end if you can.

I’m reminded of this after seeing a marvelous video by [Japhy Riddle] where he discusses his Prototype Zero of the Tape-Speed Keyboard. About halfway through the video he says that he would have done it totally differently if he knew then what he knows now: the hallmark of Prototype Zero. Yet he finishes it up, warts and all, documents it, and plays around with all of its possibilities. (Documenting it publicly isn’t part of the Prototype Zero method.)

I don’t think that [Japhy] is going to make a Prototype 1.0 out of this project, but I could be wrong; he seems to be content with having scratched the variable-speed tape itch. But if he did want to, he’s learned all of the gotchas on the engineering side, and found out exactly what such an instrument is capable of. And this loops back to the importance of getting Prototype Zero finished. You may have learned all of the tricks necessary to build the thing even before you’ve put the last screw in, but it’s when you actually have the thing in your hands to explore that you get the ideas for refinement that you simply can’t think up when it’s still just a concept.

Don’t be afraid to make your prototype quick and dirty, because if it ends up too dirty, you can just call it Prototype Zero. But don’t be tempted by the siren’s song of the 80% finished prototype either. Exploring putting Prototype Zero into use is its real purpose.

Thanks, Tamiya-san

We’re saddened to report the passing of Shunsaku Tamiya, the man behind the Tamiya line of models. What was surprising about this, though, is how many of our readers and writers alike felt touched by the Tamiya model company. I mean, they made great models, and they’re definitely a quality outfit, but the outpouring of fond memories across a broad spectrum was striking.

For example, we originally ran the story as breaking news, but our art director Joe Kim spent a good part of his childhood putting together Tamiya kits, and felt like he absolutely had to do a portrait of Mr. Tamiya to pay his respects. I presume Joe is more on the painting-the-models end of the spectrum of Tamiya customers, given his artistic bent. Jenny’s writeup is absolutely touching, and her fond remembrances of the kits shines through her writing.

Myself, I’m on the making-small-robots end of the spectrum, and was equally well served. Back in the early ’90s, the “twin motor gearbox” was a moderately challenging and tremendously rewarding build for me, but it was also the only variable-ratio small motor gearbox that we had easy access to for making small bots to run around the living room.

Indeed, the Tamiya line included a whole series of educational models and components that were just perfect for the budding robot builder. I’m sure I have a set of their tank treads or a slip clutch in a box somewhere, even today.

It’s nice to think of how many people’s lives were touched by their kits, and to get even a small glimpse of that, you just need to read our comment section. We hope the company holds on to Mr. Tamiya’s love for quality kits that inspire future generations, whether they end up becoming artists, engineers, or simply hackers.

Personalization, Industrial Design, And Hacked Devices

[Maya Posch] wrote up an insightful, and maybe a bit controversial, piece on the state of consumer goods design: The Death Of Industrial Design And The Era Of Dull Electronics. Her basic thesis is that the “form follows function” aesthetic has gone too far, and all of the functionally equivalent devices in our life now all look exactly the same. Take the cellphone, for example. They are all slabs of screen, with a tiny bezel if any. They are non-objects, meant to disappear, instead of showcases for cool industrial design.

Of course this is an extreme example, and the comments section went wild on this one. Why? Because we all want the things we build to be beautiful and functional, and that has always been in conflict. So even if you agree with [Maya] on the suppression of designed form in consumer goods, you have to admit that it’s not universal. For instance, none of our houses look alike, even though the purpose is exactly the same. (Ironically, architecture is the source of the form follows function fetish.) Cars are somewhere in between, and maybe the cellphone is the other end of the spectrum from architecture. There is plenty of room for form and function in this world.

But consider the smartphone case – the thing you’ve got around your phone right now. In a world where people have the ultimate homogeneous device in their pocket, one for which slimness is a prime selling point, nearly everyone has added a few millimeters of thickness to theirs, aftermarket, in the form of a decorative case. It’s ironically this horrendous sameness of every cell phone that makes us want to ornament them, even if that means sacrificing on the thickness specs.

Is this the same impetus that gave us the cyberdeck movement? The custom mechanical keyboard? All kinds of sweet hacks on consumer goods? The need to make things your own and personal is pretty much universal, and maybe even a better example of what we want out of nice design: a device that speaks to you directly because it represents your work.

Granted, buying a phone case isn’t necessarily creative in the same way as hacking a phone is, but it at least lets you exercise a bit of your own design impulse. And it frees the designers from having to make a super-personal choice like this for you. How about a “nothing” design that affords easy personalized ornamentation? Has the slab smartphone solved the form-versus-function fight after all?

Trickle Down: When Doing Something Silly Actually Makes Sense

One of the tropes of the space race back in the 1960s, which helped justify the spending for the part of the public who thought it wasn’t worth it, was that the technology developed for use in space would help us out here back on earth. The same goes for the astronomical expenses in Formula 1, or even on more pedestrian tech like racing bikes or cinematography cameras. The idea is that the boundaries pushed out in the most extreme situations could nonetheless teach us something applicable to everyday life.

This week, we saw another update from the Minuteman project, which is by itself entirely ridiculous – a 3D printer that aims to print a 3D Benchy in a minute or less. Of course, the Minuteman isn’t alone in this absurd goal: there’s an entire 3D printer enthusiast community that is pushing the speed boundaries of this particular benchmark print, and times below five minutes are competitive these days, although with admittedly varying quality. (For reference, on my printer, a decent-looking Benchy takes about half an hour, but I’m after high quality rather than high speed.)

One could totally be forgiven for scoffing at the Speed Benchy goal in general, the Minuteman, or even The 100, another machine that trades off print volume for extreme speed. But there is definitely trickle-down for the normal printers among us. After all, pressure advance used to be an exotic feature that only people who were using high-end homemade rigs used to care about, and now it’s gone mainstream. Who knows if the Minuteman’s variable temperature or rate smoothing, or the rigid and damped frames of The 100, or its successor The 250, will make normal printers better.

So here’s to the oddball machines, that push boundaries in possibly ridiculous directions, but then share their learnings with those of us who only need to print kinda-fast, but who like to print other things than little plastic boats that don’t even really float. At least in the open-source hardware community, trickle-down is very real.

Limitations, Creativity, And Challenges

This week, we announced the winners for the previous Pet Hacks contest and rang in our new contest: The One Hertz Challenge. So that’s got me in a contesty mood, and I thought I’d share a little bit of soap-box philosophizing and inside baseball all at once.

The trick to creating a good contest theme, at least for the creative Hackaday crowd, is putting on the right limitation. Maybe you have to fit the circuit within a square-inch, power it only with a coin cell, or use the antiquated and nearly useless 555 timer IC. (Yes, that was a joke!)

There are two basic reactions when you try to constrain a hacker. Some instantly try to break out of the constraint, and their minds starts to fly in all of the directions that lead out of the box, and oftentimes, something cool comes out of it. The other type accepts the constraint and dives in deep to work within it, meditating deeply on all the possibilities that lie within the 555.

Of course, we try to accommodate both modes, and the jury is still out as to which ends up better in the end. For the Coin Cell challenge, for instance, we had a coin-cell-powered spot welder and car jumpstarter, but we also had some cool circuits that would run nearly forever on a single battery; working against and with the constraints.

Which type of hacker are you? (And while we’re still in the mood, what contest themes would you like to see for 2026?)

Pulling Back The Veil, Practically

In a marvelous college lecture in front of a class of engineering students, V. Hunter Adams professed his love for embedded engineering, but he might as well have been singing the songs of our people – the hackers. If you occasionally feel the need to explain to people why you do what you do, at fancy cocktail parties or something, this talk is great food for thought. It’s about as good a “Why We Hack” as I’ve ever seen.

Among the zingers, “projects are filter removers” stuck out. When you go through life, there are a lot of things that you kinda understand. Or maybe you’ve not even gotten around to thinking about whether you understand them or not, and just take them for granted. Life would all simply be too complicated if you took it all sufficiently seriously. Birdsong, Bluetooth, the sun in the sky, the friction of your car’s tire on various surfaces. These are all incredibly deep subjects, when you start to peel back the layers.

And Hunter’s point is that if you are working on a project that involves USB, your success or failure depends on understanding USB. There’s no room for filters here – the illusion that it “just works” often comes crashing down until you learn enough to make it work. Some of his students are doing projects cooperatively with the ornithology department, classifying and creating birdsong. Did you know that birds do this elaborate frequency modulation thing when they sing? Once you hear it, you know, and you hear it ever more.

So we agree with Hunter. Dive into a project because you want to get the project done, sure, but pick the project because it’s a corner of the world that you’d like to shine light into, to remove the filters of “I think I basically understand that”. When you get it working, you’ll know that you really do. Hacking your way to enlightenment? We’ve heard crazier things.