The Smell of Molten Projects in the Morning

Ed Nisley's Blog: Shop notes, electronics, firmware, machinery, 3D printing, laser cuttery, and curiosities. Contents: 100% human thinking, 0% AI slop.

Category: Machine Shop

Mechanical widgetry

  • Banishing a Mysterious Rear-Wheel Squeak

    So the bike started making a weird whistling squeak. Noises on a bike are never a good sign, but it took me nearly two weeks to banish this one…

    Differential diagnosis:

    • Toward the rear: not pedals, not chainring
    • Only while pedaling: not sprocket cluster bearings
    • Depends on chain speed: not sprocket

    Conclusion: it’s the chain.

    My shop assistant had done a massive chain-cleaning and lubricating exercise when we got back from vacation, so I guessed that a few links (of 250-ish) had escaped proper lube. I gave ’em a dose that didn’t help, so I went Old Skool on the thing.

    Coiled it flat in a saucer, immersed it in denatured alcohol to displace air and water-based cleaner inside the links, then drained the alcohol. Poured a generous layer of light machine oil over the whole affair, let it sit for a day. Drained for a pair of rainy days by hanging from a floor joist in the basement. Used up a bunch of rags while wiping the thing down (I have an oily-waste can, they’re not sitting in a wastebasket).

    Misrouted chain in rear derailleur
    Misrouted chain in rear derailleur

    Put it back on the bike, only to discover the chain was now vibrating something awful. Checked the rear end and found that I’d managed to route the chain through the rear derailleur along almost the right path…

    Fixed that and the squeak was still there. OK, it’s not the chain.

    The only remaining possibility: derailleur jockey pulleys.

    Took ’em off without dismounting the derailleur and, lo and behold, the steel-on-plastic bearing surfaces were bone dry and a bit dusty. They’re supposed to be self-lubricating, which is probably true for the first few thousand miles, but I cleaned ’em out and added a dab of grease.

    Problem solved… for a while, at least.

    The only downside is that the chain will be flinging oil for the next month, no matter how often I wipe it down. There’s a good reason I stopped using light machine oil on chains!

  • Silver-Soldering a Stainless Steel Measuring Cup

    Quite some years ago, the spot weld holding half of the handle to the side of my all-time-favorite 1/3-cup measuring cup broke loose. The minuscule weld nugget suggested that the spot welder got distracted; the weld on other side of the handle is perfectly bonded.

    I tried repairing it with silver solder and a torch, which simply proved that’s not within my skill set. I buffed off most of the residue and applied JB Weld epoxy, which lasted just fine until a few days ago. It’s a low-stress situation, indeed, but I’m not surprised that the epoxy didn’t really bond to a slightly scuffed stainless steel surface.

    So, this time around, I did it right: sandpapered off the epoxy, scuffed up the cup and handle by shoe-shining a sandpaper strip face up and face down in the gap, then silver-soldered the handle in place using my resistance soldering gadget (which I promise to describe some day).

    The setup was straightforward. Clamp the cup in the bench vise with soft copper jaws (hammered from ordinary pipe) that also grip one electrode from the soldering unit.

    Silver-soldered handle - left side
    Silver-soldered handle – left side
    Silver-soldered handle - right side
    Silver-soldered handle – right side

    I used a strip of fancy Brownell’s Silvalloy 355 silver solder ribbon (which is 56% silver instead of the chintzy 4% junk I normally use) with some truly toxic silver solder flux. About ten seconds of heat melted the solder and produced a pair of nice fillets along the sides of the handle.

    The flux washed off in hot water and a few licks with fine sandpaper cleaned things up just fine. The carbon electrode left a bit of schmutz on the handle, but nothing a Dremel brass brush wheel couldn’t solve.

    The inside has a bit of heat discoloration, but the sandpaper knocked that back reasonably well, too.

    Heat discoloration inside cup
    Heat discoloration inside cup

    The final product looked a lot better than these in-work pictures, but it’s tough to photograph subtle differences in a shiny silver object.

    Anyhow, as you might expect, we value function over form in this household.

  • Emergency Spoke Repair: FiberFix FTW!

    The rear wheel of my bike popped a spoke while I was riding along a section of unimproved trail trail. Actually, it’d be more accurate to say “as-abandoned” railway line; they ripped out the ties and graded the baby-head ballast more-or-less level. It wasn’t really suitable for a long-wheelbase recumbent bike, but I really hate white-water rafting, which was the other choice.

    Anyhow.

    Of course, the broken spoke was on the sprocket side of the rear wheel. I discovered this when we were out of the most rugged section, so I have no idea how long I’d actually been abusing the wheel.

    I released the rear brake, gingerly rode to the campsite, then installed the FiberFix emergency spoke I’ve been carrying around for a few years. After snugging the cord and tightening the nipple, I added a turn to each of the two adjacent spokes, making the wheel true enough to continue the mission.

    FiberFix spoke in action
    FiberFix spoke in action

    The other end simply passes through the spoke hole in the hub. It doesn’t mind the deformation pressed into the hub.

    Hub end of FIberFix spoke
    Hub end of FIberFix spoke

    Much easier than removing the sprocket cassette under field conditions, that’s for sure!

    Back home in the shop, I installed a new spoke, tightened it up to match the others, backed out the extra turn in the adjacent spokes, and the wheel trued right up.

    I originally built the wheel using a Park Spoke Tension Meter, which is a wonderful tool. If you build wheels, even occasionally, you really, really need one. Lace ’em up, tighten uniformly, then tweak just a little bit for a perfectly true wheel.

    And, yeah, Phil hubs on all three bikes. I hate adjusting bearings. The man is gone; may his legacy live forever.

    Memo to Self: Tension = 23±1 on the drive side.

  • SPD Cleat Backing Plate: Filling the Gap

    SPD cleat backing plate gap filler
    SPD cleat backing plate gap filler

    Mary’s feet are exquisitely sensitive to irregularities in the insoles of her shoes, which poses a real problem with her bike shoes: those SPD cleat recesses are no good at all.

    This is a view down into one shoe, with the SPD cleats adjusted all the way to the rear. That leaves a large recess in the front, which was painfully obvious to her sole. The white shape is the gap filler…

    I pressed a sheet of paper across the gap to get the general shape, traced it twice onto a slab of 0.060-inch aluminum with a nice pebbly paint job, and cut the two pieces out. A few conversations with Mr Belt Sander, a few licks with a rat-tail file, and they dropped right onto place. The recess is slightly curved, but I didn’t have to bend the pieces to fit.

    I laid duct tape across the whole affair, put the insoles back in place, and it was all good.

    The backing plate is 0.072 inch thick and she was content with the difference.

    In previous shoes, with the cleat near the middle of the adjustment range, I’ve stuffed epoxy putty into the gaps. That works, but it doesn’t bond to the (miracle engineering plastic) soles and tends to crumble. This is Not A Good Thing…

  • Sears Kenmore HE3 Washer: Tub Teardown 1

    The discussion following that post prompted me to take a closer look at the corroded spider. I planned to pull the spider off the back of the drum and examine the pieces, but a week of dribbling thread lube around the bolts left two of them firmly affixed.

    While I don’t have it completely apart yet, some observations are in order…

    Spider mounting bolts through drum
    Spider mounting bolts through drum

    The bolts are stainless steel and utterly immovable with the usual screwdriver-handle-mounted Torx bit. I got the first two bolts out by putting a T30 bit in a 1/4-inch socket in a ratchet wrench and applying brute force.

    A few days of thread lube (the incomparable PB B’Laster) persuaded two more out of their lairs. The remaining bolts may require even more brute force, but I’ll give the lube a few more days to work its magic.

    Despite that, the bolts and holes are not corroded. They may have some thread locker down in there, but I see little evidence of that. I think it’s just a case of being torqued down hard, then set adrift in ionic water for half a decade.

    The outer third of each arm has a covering of corrosion products, but the metal below that (now dried and flaking) gunk seems undamaged. The arms have severe corrosion and cracking throughout the inner two-thirds of their length.

    Spider corrosion
    Spider corrosion

    If this were chemical corrosion, I’d expect it to apply evenly throughout the length of the arm, because the presence of corrosion products over the entire arm indicates pretty good distribution.

    However, galvanic corrosion should follow the same pattern, so I’m not sure what to make of this.

    The fact that an oxidation layer on the stainless steel tends to passivate it may not really matter. Compare the surface areas of the drum and the spider: there’s a whole lot more drum than spider, so even a passivated drum could provide enough current to rot the spider.

    The ends of the spider spend their lives whipping through the water inside the tub at a pretty good clip. That could dislodge most of the crud and leave them reasonably clean, at least compared to the hub that moves more slowly (same rotational speed, smaller radius). It’s also true that the water level never reaches the hub, remaining below the level of the door seal.

    Thus, the hub probably gets splashed, but never immersed, and thus has no way to remove any contaminants. The corrosion products simply build up there, keeping it wet throughout its life.

    I maintain there’s little drying going on, even with the door open, in the relatively short intervals between washings. The hub region would be least likely to dry, however, because there’s absolutely no ventilation back there.

    All that notwithstanding, this corrosion should not happen.

    I’d very much like to see some measurements: we’re all obviously guessing at the conditions. The plastic tub surrounding the drum has a port for the rear vent near the perimeter, so it’s possible to get a (cramped, inconvenient) look in there without tearing the washer apart.

    More later, after I get the mumble thing apart…

  • Earbud Cushion Replacement

    Somehow I managed to shred the silicone cushion of the earbud on my bike radio. As nearly as I can tell, it got caught between the seat and the back; the missing part certainly isn’t inside my ear.

    Anyhow, I have a bag of spare cushions from all the other earbuds, so this isn’t a showstopper.

    The adhesive snot holding the earwax filter in place also failed, so I figured I should fix that while I had the hood up. The old filter was all ooky with earwax & oil & dried sweat, which meant that any new adhesive wouldn’t stick. I chopped a disk from a random foam earbud cover with a 7/32-inch hollow punch and glued it in place with some acrylic sealant.

    Earbud cushion and wax filter replacement
    Earbud cushion and wax filter replacement

    While I had the sealant out, I replaced the tape sealing the vent hole (on the other end of the earbud) with a dot of glop, much as I should have done originally.

  • Tour Easy Seat Clamp Doodles

    Tour Easy seat clamp doodles
    Tour Easy seat clamp doodles

    I’ve managed to lose enough weight off my butt (it doesn’t go away, it just becomes leg muscle for a few months) that I must move the seat on my Tour Easy forward maybe 5 mm. Alas, I’ve run out of adjustment room: the frame is a Medium Large and I probably should have gotten a Medium; that decision was forced by getting a much-too-small Linear many years ago.

    The general idea here is to bolt the seat to an aluminum circumferential clamp just forward of the plate and tubes that normally secure the seat to the frame. That moves the clamping bolts about 15 cm forward, but they slide in slots along the seat bottom.

    The bolts are 1/4-20 stainless carriage bolts, with the square shank under the head sliding in those slots. I think the clamp can be about the same thickness as the existing tubes, so the same bolts will work.

    The main frame tube runs slightly above the two small tubes that stiffen the rear triangle. It’s not clear those clearances in the clamp must be contoured to fit the tubes exactly; a simple flat cutout will probably work just fine.

    The top of the clamp must have two bosses to support the seat base around the clamping screws. A line of rivets down the middle secures the seat base to the contoured (carbon?) fiberglass pan holding the foam cushion.