The MPCNC uses a DW660 Cutout tool as a low-cost spindle for tools with 1/8 and 1/4 inch shanks. It features a tool-free “collet grip” to twist the collet nut against the shaft lock, which is convenient for a hand tool and not so much for a CNC spindle: I find it difficult to get two hands into the MPCNC setup with the proper orientation to push-and-hold two locking buttons, while applying enough torque to twist the collet nut:
Fortunately, it’s easy enough to remove the collet grip. Remove the collet nut, unscrew the four screws holding the yellow snout in place, then pull the snout straight off to reveal the spindle lock plate:
Capture the spring, slide the spindle lock plate out to expose the snap ring (a.k.a. Jesus clip) holding the collet grip in place:
Remove the snap ring, make the appropriate remark, pull the collet grip out of the snout, reassemble the snout in its One Correct Orientation, and you’re done:
The retroreflective tape snippet let my laser tachometer report a top speed over 29 k rpm, pretty close to the advertised 30 k rpm.
If one were fussy, one would 3D print a thing to cover the snout’s open end:
The original snap ring holds it in place and the fancy pattern comes from octogram spiral infill on the bottom.
The collet nut fits either a 5/8 inch or 16 mm wrench, both of which stick out to the side far enough for a convenient hold while pressing the shaft lock button.
We got several cartons of “medium” brown eggs with what seemed like an unusually wide size distribution, so I picked out and weighed an assortment for future reference:
We occasionally get huge eggs, tiny eggs, eggs with two yolks, no yolks, or blood-spotted yolks, all of which turn out to be no big deal. I admit to not previously encountering the term “fart egg”, however …
After far too many repairs, we bought a new Brita pitcher with slightly different, although apparently equally crappy, hinge pins, whereupon I bandsawed the long-failed “smart” filter timer out of the old pitcher’s lid:
The gray rectangle is the LCD panel showing how long since you last replaced the filter. It died some years ago and, indeed, the CR1616 battery was down to 2.8 V.
However, I think the real failure happened when the black square of conductive foam slipped off the switch contacts under the Reset pushbutton’s stud and went walkabout inside the timer:
That’s where I found it after sawing the casing open. I think the adhesive side should be stuck to the stud, but we’ll never know.
The new pitcher includes a different indicator with green LED status blinkies for “Standard” (40 gallon) and “Longlast” (120 gallon) filter cartridges and a red blinkie for “Expired”:
Yeah, purple. For some unknown reason, it cost 10% less than the other colors and we’re not fussy.
This one measures filter use by water volume, not elapsed time, counting the number of pitcher refills by noticing when you open the flip-top lid; the corresponding volume depends on your ability to see a nearly invisible line molded into the lid. Unsurprisingly, Longlast filters cost only slightly less than three times standard ones, so they’re not a compelling value proposition.
This one costs slightly more than the analog tattoo power supply:
The gold lion really spiffs up the Electronics Workbench!
Somewhat to my surprise, the circuit uses a switching power supply based on a Reactor Micro RM6302 controller that can produce about an amp at voltages up to about 14 V:
CAUTION: Everything on the input side of the transformer runs at line potential. I have my doubts about isolation, particularly under fault conditions.
The trimpot on the PCB seems to adjust the output voltage, although it’s not clear what’s going on.
The three wire AC line cord has a standard IEC entry block on the rear panel, albeit with the ground terminal not connected to anything inside the plastic case. It arrived with the hot wire soldered to a tiny fuse on the PCB and the neutral wire (red!) to the back-panel switch. There being no practical way to put the fuse before the switch, I rewired the hot side to the switch before the fuse and the unswitched neutral to the PCB; that’s as good as it’ll get.
I also flipped the AC switch to put the ON position at the top. Sheesh.
The two 1/4 inch jacks on the front panel are wired in series, so it didn’t matter which one got the tattoo needler or the foot switch:
I rewired the sockets in parallel to eliminate the need for a shorting plug, although I cannot imagine any need for two outputs.
The knob seemed unusually sloppy, which turned out to be due to a broken threaded sleeve around the pot shaft that prevented the crudely made nut from seating tightly:
Given that the builders stuck everything else to the front panel with hot-melt glue, I followed suit:
Which actually held it in place reasonably well, despite the hideous appearance. The knob covers the blob, so It Doesn’t Matter.
The output range extends from about 1.2 V to just over 14 V at about an amp, but the knob seems erratic and the digital meter has only a casual relationship to the actual output voltage.
I think if you regard this one as a parts kit, reverse-engineer the schematic (which surely descends directly from the RM6302 datasheet), and rebuild the electronics, it might work better.
Bottom line: The analog version seems to be better as a low-budget power supply, not least because it has a metal case and an actual power transformer for galvanic isolation.
Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence:
Three times is enemy action, but we’re not there yet. I was willing to believe something I’d done had killed both of the radios, even though it seemed unlikely for them to last five years and fail almost simultaneously.
So I dismantled this one to see what’s inside. Pull off both knobs, remove the two screws at the bottom of the battery compartment, pry gently with a small screwdriver, and the whole PCB pulls out:
A bit more prying separates the big pieces:
Looking closely at the main PCB showed some problems I definitely didn’t cause:
Although it’s been riding around on my bike, the white blotches on the PCB came from inadequate flux removal after hand soldering.
A collection of images taken through the microscope reveals the problems:
I swabbed off the crud with denatured alcohol to no avail. The bottom side of the PCB has even more components and, I’m sure, even more crud, but I didn’t bother removing all the screws required to expose it, nor did I dismantle the other failed HT.
I doubt Wouxun’s QC improved over the last few years, which means the two replacement KG-UV3D radios I just bought are already on their last legs, despite my paying top dollar to the same reputable source that sold me the first pair.
We’ll be ready for new radios on new bikes by the time these fail.
The idea behind this gadget surfaced while I was looking for something else and, although the front panel makes my skin crawl, it’s just an adjustable DC power supply:
This is apparently the cheapnified version of the item appearing in the eBay listing:
Let’s say it has the potential to be a DC power supply, although we might quibble about the “Precision” part.
As delivered, it’s a deathtrap. Of course, it’s not UL listed and I didn’t expect it to be.
How many lethal problems do you see?
For starters, it has a three-wire AC line cord with the green-and-yellow conductor chopped off flush with the outer insulation inside the heatshrink tubing just behind the transformer:
The blue wire is AC neutral, but it really shouldn’t be connected to the finger-reachable outer fuse terminal.
The brown wire is AC line, which goes directly to one power switch terminal. In the event of a hot wiring fault, an unfused conductor touching the case will test the GFI you should have on your bench wiring.
The AC line cord uses some mysterious copper-colored metallic substance that’s about as stiff as music wire:
The strands cannot be twisted together like ordinary copper wire, although they can be soldered. They may be copper-plated aluminum, because a magnet ignores them.
After soldering the strands together, they snap when bent:
Generous strain relief is not just a good idea, it’s mandatory.
After some Quality Shop Time, the ground wire now connects to the case through the transformer’s rear mounting screw, the neutral AC wire connects to the transformer, the hot AC wire goes to the tip of the line fuse, and the fuse cap terminal goes to the switch:
I relocated the white LED to the middle of the meter, where it looks a bit less weird:
I have no idea what “Porket indicate” might mean. Perhaps “Precision indicator”?
The right 1/4 inch jack, labeled “Foot”, normally goes to a foot switch you don’t need for a bench power supply, so I converted a length of drill rod into a dummy plug to short the jack contacts:
The tip comes from a bit of lathe and file work and the white cap comes from a bag of wire shelf hardware.
A genuine hologram sticker (!) on the back panel proclaims “1.5 – 15 VDC 2 A”, which seemed optimistic. Some fiddling with power resistors suggests tattoo liners (I learned a new word!) don’t draw much current:
- 4 V @ 1 A
- 8 V @ 800 mA
- 10 V @ 600 mA
It can reach a bit over 18 V (pegging the meter) at lower current, so it’s Good Enough for small projects with un-fussy power requirements.
Caveat emptor, indeed.
When I wired up the MPCNC’s tool length probe, I planned to reinforce the wiring with a dab of epoxy. What I didn’t notice in my enthusiasm, alas, was the opening from the rear to the front in each pin slot:
Which let the epoxy flow completely through the connector:
So I cut the mess off and applied heatstink tubing on each wire, just like I should have in the first place.
Now you know the rest of the story …
I really dislike pin headers as cable connectors, but that’s what the Protoneer CNC board uses:
It’ll be Good Enough if I don’t do anything
else particularly stupid.