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

Sears Craftsman Radial Saw Elevation Knob Handle

Broken Knob

Mary’s folks visited us for Christmas and her father brought along a shelf that needed cutting; their apartment doesn’t have room for his shop equipment, alas. I cleared the crap off the radial saw, grabbed the elevation knob to crank the blade up to get it set for ripping, and … the handle broke off.

That’s not the first time this has happened, so I wasn’t entirely surprised. The knob is large enough that I could complete the mission just by grabbing the rim, but it was a near thing.

The handle is made of some wonderful engineering plastic that doesn’t solvent-bond well with anything in my armory, although Plastruct had enough bite to make me think it would work. That repair actually lasted several years of admittedly low-duty-cycle use, but obviously this couldn’t continue.

Stress raiser

The problem seems to be built into the handle design. This pic shows that the fracture spans a high-stress part of the handle: between the inside right-angle corner (upper left) that rests on the outside of the knob, across the handle’s web, to the corner of the recess in the flange at the bottom of the picture.

The red hoodickie is the latch that secures the handle in its deployed position, wherein it sticks out at exactly crotch height for average human males. That accounts for the fluorescent red tape around the handle.

Broken surface

You can see how the latch recess triggered the crack: that notch where the latch wraps around must be the highest-stress part of the handle. I suspect the original design didn’t have the latch (or had something different) and the fat web near the round feature on the left extended all the way to the angled flange on the right.

That would work!

I epoxied a pair of rectangular brass tubes across the fracture inside the web, where they fit neatly below the latch. I roughed up the web with an awl to give the epoxy more surface to grab.

Incidentally, this is one of those cases where you might think a cyanoacrylate adhesive would work. It won’t: too much shock, too much pressure. I used it to hold the parts together while the epoxy cured, but that’s about as far as I’d trust it.

I’d like to add something to the notch, but I’m not convinced a right-angle brass flange and some epoxy will have enough grip to make any difference. It would certainly require changing the latch, perhaps by thinning the left side, which would make that weaker. On the other paw, I can probably eke out a miserable existence without the latch.

Brass internal reinforcement

The picture shows the clamping in operation. A snippet of polypropylene (from some random consumer packaging) under the tip of the clamp prevents it from becoming one with the project; the clamp tip is slippery plastic, but you never know.

Perhaps this fix will last for a few more years…

Y’know, I’m beginning to believe that finite-element analysis will be the death of us all. Obviously this handle was modeled to a fare-thee-well, with only enough material to meet the expected stresses in the expected directions. Unfortunately, the real world doesn’t cooperate: the forces are always larger, the conditions always worse, and the materials always weaker than the design anticipated. A “safety factor” of three or four or maybe even ten just isn’t enough!

2010-01-14
Arduino Serial Optical Isolator

Optical Isolator – oops

It turns out that attaching some, but not all, of the PCs around here to the Arduino Pro board controlling the Totally Featureless Clock cause the WWVB receiver to drown in a sea of noise. In fact, just touching the USB cable’s shield to the FTDI Basic USB-to-serial adapter would bring the noise.

So this is a quick-and-dirty circuit to see if optical isolation will reduce the problem enough to be bearable.

The schematic is pretty simple: two bits in, two bits out.

Optical Isolate Schematic

The layout puts the DIP isolators on the top and the SMD resistors on the bottom. I used fancy screw-machine IC socket pins, just because I had some, but you could solder the isolators directly to the board. The FTDI Basic connects through header pins and the Arduino connects through female header sockets, both soldered sideways to the top of the board. I’ll eventually reinforce them with some epoxy, never fear.

Double-size PCB layout:

PCB Layout

Actual-size copper images. Remember that the top copper is flipped left-to-right here so it comes out properly after toner-transfer imaging.

Copper

And the placement info showing where the parts wind up. This is sort of the silkscreen for the top and bottom, both together: the backwards stuff goes on the bottom side.

Top and Bottom Silkscreen

The alert reader will note that the photo doesn’t match the rest of the images. Nay, verily, eagle-eyed readers will have picked out a few resistors on the top and two embarrassing little red-wire Xes at the connectors. Somehow, I managed to swap the RxD and TxD pins, even with an FTDI board on the desk next to me. I hate it when that happens… so I fixed the schematic & layout for the next time around.

The resistors push a lot of current through the LEDs and phototransistors, which is what you need to get decent 19200 b/s serial data pulses. Here’s what the data stream out of the TxD isolator looks like:

Optoisolator – TXD

I have the Eagle files and the CNC drill file for my Sherline mill if you must have them, but you can go from those images above directly to the hardware. It’s an evening’s work, more or less.

You might want to kludge a jumper into the Reset line so it’s impossible to accidentally reset the Arduino. Sometimes you don’t want a reset, like after a few days of data collection…

Now, does it actually do what I expected? The early reports are good, but I’m at the mercy of the atmosphere and must collect a few days (actually, nights) worth of data to find just how far down the noise went.

2010-01-13
Rudy Sunglasses: Back From the Dead

Clear lens installed

As expected, the uni-lens on Mary’s Rudy Project sunglasses cracked right up the middle as that stress crack above the nosepiece opened up. The sunglasses came with interchangeable lenses, so I swapped in the clear lens.

Having used urethane adhesive to mechanically lock the defunct gray lens in place, the broken bits were pretty firmly bonded. I applied a brass hammer and small drift punch to the remaining tabs, pried the debris out of the temples, cleaned the adhesive from the recesses, and snapped the new lens in place. Surprisingly, it popped in and locked securely.

The nosepiece has never worked satisfactorily: there’s nothing locking the flexible blue-silicone pad to the straight-sided posts that are supposed to hold it. As a result, it tends to pop off at the most inopportune moments.

Rudy nosepiece

I dotted the posts on one side with cyanoacrylate and the other pair with epoxy to see if either will bond well enough to make a difference. If those fail, I’ll try urethane, although I’m not sure what will happen as the urethane expands in the sockets.

Anyhow, she now has glasses suitable for biking on cloudy and rainy days… which is much better than a sharp stick (or a bug) in the eye, as we see it.

2010-01-10
Micropositioner Rehabilitation: Z-axis Slide

With the planetary reducer off, I could remove all the bits and pieces holding the Z-axis slide to the rest of the positioner.

Rack drive casing

Note carefully the three spacing washers near each mounting screw. They hold the slide off the casting body by a very precise amount: they’re each 4 mils thick and prone to vanish in a light breeze. I discovered that each screw had three washers when I flicked one off the workbench and discovered two on the floor.

The metal plate holding the pinion in place has two flat-head screws to the left and two ramps to the right. The conical points of the two long setscrews on the right bear on the ramps, providing a convenient, if obscure from the outside, way to adjust the slide friction by clamping the pinion shaft. One of the setscrews was partially removed, so a previous owner had evidently tried to reduce the overwhelming stickiness.

With the washers in a safe place, the pinion cover comes off with only slight encouragement.

Pinion parts

Plenty of congealed lubricating oil to be found.

Even without the pinion gear, it was exceedingly difficult to urge the two parts of the slide apart: more congealed oil. Much to my surprise, the slide does not have adjustable gibs: it’s one of those precision-ground gadgets that Just Works. This picture shows all the parts in their gunky glory. Note the random dirt in the rack teeth, along with the goo on the pinion shaft.

Rack and pinion – disassembled

With everything apart, removing the gunk was a simple matter of toxic solvents and mechanical poking with wood picks and splints

I filed off the burrs on the shafts, thought briefly about grinding some flats for the setscrews, and decided to leave well enough alone.

A few dabs of clock oil here & there, reassemble everything in reverse order, and the Z-axis moves gracefully with minimal knob torque. It’s very sensitive to the clamping force of those pointed setscrews, though.

It’s now easy to discover that the planetary reducer has a 5:1 ratio and the Z-axis moves about 6 mm per turn. Because the reducer uses balls, it slips when the slide jams against something, rather than strip its gears.

I should clean the other two slides, but a dot of clock oil on each cheered them up enough to let me punt that for a while…

I like it!

Micropositioner

2010-01-04
Micropositioner Rehabilitation: Planetary Reducer

Micropositioner

An old 3-axis micropositioner recently found itself on my electronics workbench, where it should come in handy for SMD soldering, microscopic examination, and similar projects requiring the ability to move something in tiny, precise increments. This picture gives you the general idea; it’s mounted on a magnetic base stuck to a random chunk of sheet steel.

The knob on the front drives the vertical (Z) axis, with the other two controlling the front-to-back (Y) and left-to-right (X) axes. A rotary joint between the X and Y axes, plus another at the tip of the arm, mean you’re not restricted to orthogonal axes; that may be either a blessing or a curse, depending on what you’re trying to accomplish.

Unfortunately, the Z axis was essentially immovable: that big knurled knob took a remarkable amount of force to drive the slide. Some Quality Shop Time was in order.

Planetary reducer – cover

The thing is a chunk of old-school German engineering: nary a gratuitous plastic part to be seen. The planetary reducer has a cast metal cover secured to the torque arm with an acorn nut, which had obviously been removed several times before, as the cover was somewhat chewed beneath the nut.

I loosened the two setscrews holding the knob in place, gave it a pull, and … nothing. After a protracted struggle and considerable sub-vocal muttering, the knob came off to reveal a thoroughly scarred shaft. Contrary to what I expected, the shaft did not have flats below the setscrews, so the inevitable screw burrs locked the shaft to the knob.

Planetary reducer – torque arm

The picture to the left shows the planetary drive and torque arm after I filed off the burrs. Two plastic washers (the top one sits on the spring; it’s not shown here) provide smooth bearing surfaces that hold the knob under firm spring pressure, which prevents the Z axis from descending unless you turn the knob manually.

Planetary drive output shaft screws

Two more setscrews secure the planetary drive’s output bushing to the Z axis pinion shaft. The picture to the right shows that they’re pretty much inaccessible; one was directly behind a tab holding the drive together, the other was aimed at the shoulder of the casting holding the Z axis slide.

And, of course, even with the knob in place, I can’t turn the mumble shaft, which is why I’m doing this in the first place. The planetary drive uses balls, rather than gears, and the lubricating oil had long since turned into gummy varnish. I slobbered enough light oil into the drive to loosen the gunk enough to make the drive turn-able, albeit with considerable effort. I urged the input shaft barely enough this-a-way and that-a-way to get access to both of the screws.

Pinion shaft

As you’d expect, removing the drive required even more muttering and the application of dangerous tools. The pinion shaft was badly scarred in several places, so this poor thing has been dismantled several times before.

That was entirely enough for one day. Tomorrow, disassembling the Z-axis slide and cleaning things up…

2010-01-03
Tchotchke Repair

Tchotchke epoxy

Sometimes I get to do an easy one. This dust collector came with the house and sits on the fireplace; one of the little guys fell off when Mary went on a cleaning frenzy. As nearly as I can tell, he had a bad butt weld (using the exact term) with marginal penetration.

A dot of JB Weld, an uncomfortable overnight stay on the workbench, and he’s as almost good as new. I briefly thought about resistance-soldering him together, but came to my senses: epoxy to the rescue!

The balance point is sufficiently delicate that the additional weight of the epoxy pulls his side down a bit. I’ll call it art and leave it at that, although I should build a little circuit with a proximity sensor and an electromagnet to keep the thing in motion.

See-saw tchotchke repaired

Yeah, that’s my Tau Beta Pi Bent in the background… along with the little glass bead I made in the Corning Museum of Glass a few summers ago.

2009-12-29
Bicycle Tire Liner Abrasion

The front tire (a Primo Comet blackwall) on Mary’s Tour Easy was flat when we rolled out of the garage a few days ago. While a flat isn’t pleasant at any time, it’s much nicer to find one at home, before the ride, rather than out on the road!

I figured the tire ate something sharp that managed to work its way through the tire liner and into the tube; that’s rare, but it sometimes happens. These two pix of the tread show why we use tire liners: sidewall-to-sidewall nicks, cuts, gouges, and gashes, despite the fact that the herringbone tread has plenty of life left in it. Click the pix to enlarge, if you dare…

Tire cuts 1

And another section; it’s like this all the way around the tire. I think this one is the better part of a year old, so it has maybe 2000 miles on it. It handled 200+ miles along the Pine Creek Gorge rail-trail this past summer, which was sharp crushed gravel, but most of the cuts came from roadside debris on our ordinary utility rides around home.

Tire cuts 2

As it turned out, the tire liner had prevented all those punctures from reaching the tube, while killing the tube all by itself. The sharp edge where the the two ends of the liner overlap had worried its way through the tube.

Abrasion from tire liner

The tire liner wasn’t a genuine fluorescent green Slime strip, but some translucent brown thing. The difference: Slime liners are thinner and don’t have nearly this much abrasive power.

Alas, I didn’t have a Slime liner in my stash (remedied with the most recent bike parts order), so I put the brown liner back in with a few layers of genuine Scotch electrical tape to build the end up a bit. There’s really no good way to feather the end without making it into a ragged knife edge.

New tire and tube, of course. I’m not that crazy!

With any luck, the liner and tape will behave for another few years, until the tire wears out, and then I’ll replace everything. Other than this event, flats aren’t a big part of our riding experience.

2009-12-28