Ed Nisley's Blog: Shop notes, electronics, firmware, machinery, 3D printing, laser cuttery, and curiosities. Contents: 100% human thinking, 0% AI slop.
I use System Rescue CD to repartition / backup / restore hard drive partitions, but a not-very-recent change to udev caused the familiar eth0 name to come up as something like enp0s26u1u2 on the Lenovo Q150. Which would be OK, but feeding either that or eth0 into net-setup causes it to fall over dead.
Avoiding that mess requires an incantation in the kernel boot parameters: select a main boot option, hit Tab, type net.ifnames=0 (with a leading space), and whack Enter to boot. Then good old eth0 appears where it should and everything works.
It’s annoying, but not quite enough to create a specialized SysRescCD image with that incantation preloaded.
An old vending machine in need of rebooting may provide fodder for some electronics tutorials at Squidwrench. To that end, here’s the OEM wiring diagram pasted inside the door:
SqWr Vending Machine – OEM Wiring Diagram
That’s endured a perspective transformation and a bit of contrast stretching; it looks awful, but being able to view it without squatting inside the machine makes it much easier to read…
Each selector and motor cycle switch pair interact with the motor thusly:
Vending Machine – Switches and Motor Doodle
All of the motors have one side connected directly to the 24 VAC power transformer. The wiring diagram shows a pair of transformers in parallel, which seems odd.
The Selector switches (an array of 30 on the front panel, with one broken that will surely call for some 3D printing) are in series, so the lowest-numbered one wins; the NO terminal of each Selector switch goes directly to the control box. Pressing a switch connects the Red·Orange wire on the C terminal of the first switch to the control box on the same wire as the corresponding motor lead.
Assuming the Motor Cycle switch parks in the NC position, it will disconnect the Orange wire from the Orange·Black wire and connect it to the lower motor lead and the Select switch (which may or may not be pressed by then), although we don’t know the timing. There’s surely a cam on the motor shaft.
Some possibly relevant patents, found after a brief search with the obvious keywords:
The general idea was to put the old Lenovo Q150 to work as a dedicated Superformula generator attached to the HP 7475A plotter: connect the serial cable, fire ’em up, and It Just Works. As part of the first pass, I installed Mint Linux atop an old Ubuntu install, got Python & Chiplotle set up, and That Just Works:
Lenovo Q150 with HP 7475A
However, the Q150 sports a dual-core Intel Atom, underpowered even back in the day, that hasn’t gotten any peppier over the years. The Lenovo-installed Windows 7 pushed the CPU hard enough to require full-throttle fan whine, even at idle, and mysterious issues with memory usage (something involving a memory leak in svchost.exe or perhaps over-aggressive Windows Update prefetching) reduced performance to a crawl as the system paged its brains out to the 5400 RPM laptop-style drive (*). As part of this adventure, I figured I’d boot the Lenovo restore partition and burn Win 7 back to bedrock before installing Mint.
Turns out that the Lenovo restore utility doesn’t work when the drive has an unusual partition structure; it tells you to repartition the drive and try again. So I blew away the Ubuntu installation’s extended partition (containing swap, main, and spare partitions), then rebooted, only to discover that, of course, the missing partitions contain Grub’s later stages. Having previously wasted far too much time trying to resuscitate various half-dead Grubs, I created a fourth partition, installed Mint Linux (ignoring its strenuous objections about not having a swap partition) to refresh Grub, booted the Lenovo restore utility, and ended up at a raw Windows terminal emulator box atop a picture of some weird tropical greenery. Apparently the restore utility depends on something that got blown away during all the flailing around.
So, just for completeness, I shrank Mint a bit, added a swap partition, and got the results shown above. One core runs at 100%, probably dribbling bytes to the USB-to-serial adapter, but the thing runs much cooler. In this context, it should be noted, a 110 °F surface and 140 °F exhaust temperature counts as “cool”; the fan isn’t at full throttle, but it’s surprisingly noisy for a computer billed as a multimedia streaming device.
I actually have a complete backup of the original contents of all three partitions, so I could whack it back to mid-2011. Modulo, of course, resetting the actual partition sizes and positions and suchlike, which I’m sure will be vital to having the restore utility do its thing. Maybe that’s worthwhile just to remind me why it’s such a terrible idea.
(*) Blowing $50 on an SSD is so not happening, OK?
The tab supporting the strut with the center slides for the lower drawers in our Whirlpool refrigerator broke of its own accord. This is a problem of long standing, somewhat exacerbated by the fact that lifting the strut will break the tab without much effort at all, but this time the drawers pulled the strut downward hard enough to not only break the tab, but also tear the small tabs that align the bracket right out of the frame.
While pondering the problem, I glued the broken chunk back into the frame:
Refrigerator Drawer Strut – clamping front plate
We agreed that, after nigh onto two decades, it would be OK to swap the position of the two drawers, so as to let the strut use the undamaged part of the frame seen below. Presumably, we’ll eventually get used to having the apples on the right and the veggies on the left.
But it was obvious Something Serious Had To Be Done about the tab.
The tab should align like this inside the frame:
Refrigerator Drawer Strut Tab – alignment
The rightmost part of the tab rests atop a U-shaped metal bar that also supports and stiffens the entire front of the frame, but cantilevering the weight of both drawers on that extended tab overpowered my last attempt at making a glue joint. Soooo, I decided to build a (wait for it …) 3D printed part that screws firmly to the front of the strut.
The first step involved introducing the strut to Mr Belt Sander to strip the wreckage of the OEM tab from the front end (visible through the opening) and smooth things out, then measuring the remainder. The locating flange inside the frame almost defeated me, but eventually I found a tool that fit inside the strut opening and around the flange:
Refrigerator Drawer – measuring flange
Which produced a sketch of the key dimensions:
Refrigerator Drawer Strut – Dimension Doodles
Which became an extruded polygon with a few holes punched in the side:
Refrigerator Shelf Strut Tab – solid model
Building it standing up wraps the plastic threads around the entire tab and stacks the layers along the length of the tab. Doing it lying down in the obvious hump-up orientation would put the layers parallel to the bottom surface, where they can pull apart under load.
The key innovation here involves being willing to assemble the tab to the strut in situ, without insisting it fit through the frame opening and be more-or-less easily removable. That let me bulk up the tab to match the end of the strut, fill the entire frame opening with plastic, and get enough bulk for a pair of 4-40 screws that, being loaded in shear, should withstand the weight of all those fruits & veggies in the drawers.
The screws simply thread into the holes in the tab, without benefit of tapping. The OpenSCAD code now includes a pair of nut traps, but I’m hoping they won’t be needed.
The new tab really does fill the space available:
Refrigerator Drawer Strut – new tab in place
The OpenSCAD code now moves the notch half a millimeter further away from the strut to center it over the ridge. What’s not obvious is how the frame slants toward the tab over the U-bar: the tab just barely clears and probably should have a tapered nose. You may add that if you like.
The U-shaped bar constrains the tab pretty firmly and supports the end, which should now be plump enough to withstand the forces involved. The screws sit horizontally with the frame installed and can’t pull out, which is why I think they can get along without nut traps.
It’s built in cyan PETG with three perimeter threads and 40% 3D Honeycomb fill, making it essentially a solid block of plastic; it’ll be interesting to see what fails next.
The OpenSCAD source code, which I hammered out in a white-hot fury:
// Refrigerator Shelf Strut Tab
// Ed Nisley KE4ZNU December 2015
//- Extrusion parameters must match reality!
ThreadThick = 0.25;
ThreadWidth = 0.40;
HoleWindage = 0.2;
Protrusion = 0.1; // make holes end cleanly
inch = 25.4;
function IntegerMultiple(Size,Unit) = Unit * ceil(Size / Unit);
//----------------------
// Dimensions
TabSize = [20.0,12.0,35.0]; // length from bracket, height, width along front
SlotSize = [3.0,7.0];
SlotX = 7.0;
TabProfile = [
[0,0],
[12,0], [12,7.0],
[TabSize[0],7.0], [TabSize[0],TabSize[1]],
[SlotX + SlotSize[0]/2,TabSize[1]],
[SlotX + SlotSize[0]/2,5.0], [SlotX - SlotSize[0]/2,5.0],
[SlotX - SlotSize[0]/2,TabSize[1]],
[0,TabSize[1]]
];
ScrewY = 7.0;
ScrewOC = 25.0;
ScrewOD = 2.5;
NutOD = 6.6; // across flats
NutThick = 2.5;
//----------------------
// Useful routines
module PolyCyl(Dia,Height,ForceSides=0) { // based on nophead's polyholes
Sides = (ForceSides != 0) ? ForceSides : (ceil(Dia) + 2);
FixDia = Dia / cos(180/Sides);
cylinder(r=(FixDia + HoleWindage)/2,
h=Height,
$fn=Sides);
}
//----------------------
// Build it
difference() {
linear_extrude(height=TabSize[2],convexity=4)
polygon(points=TabProfile);
for (i=[-1,1]) {
translate([-Protrusion,ScrewY,i*ScrewOC/2 + TabSize[2]/2])
rotate([0,90,0])
rotate(180/6)
PolyCyl(ScrewOD,SlotX,6);
translate([SlotX - SlotSize[0]/2 - NutThick - Protrusion,ScrewY,i*ScrewOC/2 + TabSize[2]/2])
rotate([0,90,0])
rotate(180/6)
PolyCyl(NutOD,NutThick + SlotSize[0],6);
}
}
Maybe that’ll last until we finally scrap out the refrigerator…
The Power Wheels Racer taking shape at SquidWrench let out The Big Stink at the Mini Maker Faire a few weeks ago, so I brought some test equipment to the regular Weekly Doing and helped with the autopsy.
The PWM motor controller purports to do 60 A at up to 50 V, but removing the cover showed it wasn’t going to do any more controlling:
Motor Controller – smoked housing
That smudge came from a rank of detonated MOSFETs:
Motor Controller – exploded MOSFET
Other MOSFETs had unsoldered themselves:
Motor Controller – unsoldered MOSFETs
Explosively:
Motor Controller – solder ejecta
I brought along an ancient Sears starter-motor ammeter to measure the motor current:
Sears 244-2145 Starter Ammeter – front
The magnetic field around the wire directly drives the meter movement, with two guides for the 75 A and 400 A ranges, and none of that newfangled Hall effect nonsense to contend with:
Sears 244-2145 Starter Ammeter – wire guides
Yeah, that says FEB 79; I’ve been collecting tools for quite a while…
I slapped the motor connectors directly on the battery terminals, holding them with small locking pliers after discovering that the wires got way too hot, way too fast. A snippet of retroreflective tape on the motor sprocket and a laser tach gave us the speed:
12 V: 1600 RPM @ 40 A
24 V: 2400 RPM @ > 100 A
The AmpFlow E30-400 motor data sheet confirmed that those numbers were grossly wrong. Unloaded, it should spin at 5700 RPM at 24 V while drawing 3.2 A (thus, 2800 RPM at 12 V & 1.6 A).
Diassembling the motor showed it hadn’t escaped the carnage:
Motor – charred windings
Those windings should be the usual amber enamel-over-copper, not charred black. The excessive current and reduced speed suggests many shorted turns inside the rotor.
Protip: never disassemble a working DC motor, because you’ll demagnetize the stator. The motor should still run when you put it back together, but the reduced magnetic field will wreck the performance.
As nearly as we could tell, one of the motor wires shorted to the frame when it got pinched under the seat; that’s an easy mistake to make and shows why compulsive wire neatness pays off big time. Shorting the controller output blew the transistors and, after raising the seat to look underneath, the motor would cook itself without generating much torque while you figure out what happened.
As far as I’m concerned, if you’ve never blown up anything that severely, you’re not building interesting stuff and definitely not trying hard enough.
The next iteration should work better!
Thanks to Dragorn of Kismet for stepping into the stench with phone camera in hand…
The Epson R380 started making an odd thwapping noise, which turned out to be the ink tubes from the Continuous Ink Supply System slapping the overly complex interior of the printer. They seemed a bit loose, but it took some searching before I found the top of the clamp that holds them in place:
Epson R380 CISS hose clamp – broken
It’s the white rectangle nestled in front of the ink cartridges, where it fits perfectly into a convenient slot and looks like it grew there.
I briefly considered 3D printing a replacement, but came to my senses:
Epson R380 CISS hose clamp – fixed
That should be good until the silicone rubber tubes finally break after a bazillion flex cycles…
About a week after First Light, one of the knockoff Neopixels (not a Genuine Adafruit Product) suffered an intermittent failure: it worked fine after being off for an hour or two, but eventually stalled at a fixed color, with all downstream pixels equally dead. Of course, it was the middle package in the string of three, buried in the hub (this is before the failure):
Hard Drive Mood Light – low angle
Spraying circuit cooler on the package brought it back to life for a few minutes, confirming the diagnosis. Reducing the maximum intensity to PWM 32 reduced the average power dissipation enough to let it run for as long as I was willing to let it, although it might not survive a hot summer day.
Not having glued the spacers onto the hub simplified extracting the strip, although warranty repair is always a nuisance. I daubed red Sharpie on the failing LED to avoid losing track of it, then resoldered the LED and capacitor connections to no avail:
Knockoff Neopixel Failure – overview
There’s nothing obviously wrong inside:
Knockoff Neopixel Failure – detail
The fine details of the WS2812B controller produce a horrible Moiré blur with the camera’s low-res image, but you get the general idea.
Most likely, one of those flying wires isn’t quite bonded, but we’ll never know…