Long ago, I put Shimano PD-M324 pedals on Mary’s Tour Easy, because she prefers a pedal with a platform on one side and SPD cleats on the other.
Those are newish-old-stock from the Big Box o’ Bike Parts, as she’s worn out the previous pedals.
She recently got a pair of Specialized MTB shoes:
The shoes work fine with the more-or-less standard Shimano PD-M520 double-entry SPD pedals on my bike:
But the soles jammed against the frame on the PD-M324 pedals.
So I carved away enough rubber around the cleat sockets for clearance to float properly with the cleats latched. A bit of trial-and-error, probably with a bit more to come after on-the-road experience, but definitely a step in the right direction.
Protip: always always always arrange the workpiece so the blade trajectory cannot intersect any part of your body, no matter what slips occur.
Spotted on a motel room door:
I wonder if all the peepholes in the motel were installed with a similar lack of attention to detail; it was recently renovated, so this is new work.
For sure, they’ll never be properly adjusted …
But, as the saying goes, that’s not a herringbone gear. This is a herringbone gear:
We always read the signage:
They’re parked in front of the National Museum of Industrial History in Bethlehem, PA.
Obviously, the good folks at Park Tool never anticipated a three-cross spoke pattern on a 20 inch wheel:
It’s my trusty Park Tool TM-1 Spoke Tension Meter, unchanged since shortly after the turn of the millennium.
For future reference, the rebuilt wheel spoke tensions came out around 25, slightly lower than the 27-ish I measured on Mary’s bike; it didn’t occur to me to measure the tension until after I’d relaxed the spokes. I’ll ride it for a while before doing any tweakage.
The spoke pattern is pretty close to four-cross, due to the large-flange Phil Wood hubs:
Which makes for a hella-strong wheel, particularly seeing as how it’s very lightly loaded. The Tour Easy we got for our lass came with a radially spoked rim around a Phil hub.
I transferred the hub and laced spokes intact to the new rim by the simple expedient of duct-taping the spokes into platters, removing the nipples, stacking the rims, sliding the spokes across into their new homes, reinstalling the nipples, then tightening as usual.
The front rim on my Tour Easy developed a distinct bulge, of the sort usually caused by ramming something, but I’m not Danny McAskell and the bulge got worse over the course of a few weeks, suggesting the rim was deforming under tire pressure. Having ridden it upwards of 35 k miles with plenty of trailer towing and too much crushed-stone trail riding, the brake tracks were badly worn and it’s time for a new rim.
An Amazon seller had an identical (!) rim, except for the minor difference of having a hole sized for a Schraeder valve stem, rather than the Presta valves on the original rims. One can buy adapters / grommets, but what’s the fun in that?
The brake track walls are 1.5 mm thick on the new rim and a scant 1.0 mm on the old rim, so, yeah, it’s worn.
A few measurements to get started (and for future reference):
If you don’t have an A drill, a 15/64 inch drill is only half a mil larger and, sheesh, anything close will be fine.
Introduce a suitable brass rod to Mr Lathe:
Break all the edges and drop it in place:
One could argue for swaging the adapter to fit flush against the curved rim, but commercial adapters don’t bother with such refinements and neither shall I.
The 7.0 mm length got shortened to fit flush with the center of the rim:
It’s brass, because the rim is heaviest on the far side where the steel pins splicing the ends live, and, with the tube & tire installed, the rim came out almost perfectly balanced. Which makes essentially no difference whatsoever, of course.
The shiny new rim sports shiny new reflector tape (from the same stockpile, of course).
That was easy …
Ten months ago, I cleaned the corrosion off our favorite cheese slicer:
After cleaning, I coated it with XTC-3D epoxy:
We’ve been using it daily ever since and it spends most of its life drip-drying in the dish drainer. I added a third opening to the cheerful orange measuring spoon holder just for the slicer.
A few weeks ago I noticed corrosion once again growing on the handle:
I think the rot comes from water diffusing through the epoxy, rather than gross leaks through damage or pinholes. The tip of the handle has the most corrosion, probably due to the water drop hanging there, even though it also has the thickest epoxy coating: it cured with the handle pointing downward.
Verily, rust never sleeps …
A long time ago, a pair of white LED + red laser flashlights powered by an AA cell diverged: one flashlight worked fine, the other always had a dead battery. The latter ended up on my “one of these days” pile, from which it recently emerged and accompanied me to a Squidwrench Tuesday session:
The black wire trailing from the innards goes to the battery negative terminal, with the aluminum body providing the positive terminal connection to the wavy-washer spring contact visible atop the rear PCB inside the front shell.
The switch connects each red wire to the battery negative terminal, so there’s a color code issue in full effect. The two red wires burrow through holes in the rear PCB (shown above) and connect to the negative terminal of the laser module (the brass cylinder near the top) and the negative terminal ring on the front PCB holding the seven white LEDs:
Continuing the color code issue, the black wire from the laser is its positive terminal. The out-of-focus wire (an LED pin) sticking up near the top of the picture carries the positive connection to the LED ring. The red wires from the switch are the negative connections for the LEDs and laser.
Voltages applied to the LED ring and the currents flowing therein:
Seven LEDs at 20 mA each = 140 mA, so the voltage booster must crank out slightly more than 3.2 V. They’re not the brightest white LEDs I’ve ever seen, but suffice for a small flashlight.
A crude sketch of the PCB layout, with a completely incorrect schematic based on the mistaken assumption the SOT23-3 package was an NPN transistor:
Obviously, that’s just not ever going to oscillate, even if the
2603 topmark meant a 2SC2603 transistor, which it doesn’t.
A bit more searching suggests it’s a stripped-down Semtech SC2603A boost converter, normally presented in a SOT23-6 package. If you order a few million of ’em, you can strip off three unused pins, do some internal rebonding, and (presumably) come out with an SOT23-3:
That topology makes more sense!
Before going further, I had to rationalize the colors:
Soldering longer leads to the PCB allows current & voltage measurements:
With the LEDs and laser disconnected, the converter seems to be struggling to keep the capacitor charged:
Those purple spikes come from the current probe at 200 mA/div: maybe half an amp in 5 μs pulses at 6 kHz works out to a 15 mA average current, which is pretty close to the 11 mA I measured; it’s not obvious the Siglent SDM3045 meter was intended to handle such a tiny duty cycle.
Obviously, the output capacitor is junk and, after removing it, the AADE L/C meter says
NOT A CAPACITOR. Perhaps it never was one?
Measuring the cap in the good (well, the other flashlight) suggests something around 100 nF, so I installed a random 110 nF cap from the stash. The current peaks are about the same size:
The cap voltage (not shown) is now nearly constant and the 50 Hz PWM rate reduces the average battery current to 100-ish μA:
Not great, but tolerable; a 1000 mA·h battery will go flat in a few months.
The LED current runs a bit hotter than I expected:
The bottom is about 200 mA and the average might be 350 to 400 mA.
Compared with the other flashlight:
So the cap is maybe a bit too small, but it likely doesn’t matter.