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.

Tag: Repairs

If it used to work, it can work again

  • Third Eye Hardshell Mirror Repair

    Alas, the mirror I installed this spring didn’t survive our bicycling vacation; it succumbed to the second of three stuff-all-the-bikes-in-a-truck schleps arranged by the tour organizers. Being that sort of bear, I had a spare mirror, duct-taped it in place, lashed it down with some cable ties, and we completed the mission.

    So.

    Back to the Basement Laboratory Plastic Repair Wing.

    The strut broke just behind the ball at the mirror, which implies the mirror plate got stuffed against something, rather bending the strut. The ball joint still worked, so I maneuvered the stub perpendicular to the mirror.

    Drilling the strut
    Drilling the strut

    Normally I’d try to re-glue the joint as-is to get the best fit, but past experience shows that if it breaks once, it’ll break there again. I wanted to put some reinforcement into the strut, not just depend on a solvent glue joint. Some rummaging in the brass tubing stock produced a 1/16-inch diameter aluminum (!) tube about 18 mm long: just what’s needed.

    So I filed the deformed plastic flat & perpendicular to the stubs, mounted the strut in the 3-jaw chuck on the Sherline’s table, lined the spindle up with the axis, and poked a 1/16-inch hole into the strut. The alignment looks decidedly off in the picture, but it’s actually spot on: what you’re seeing is some swarf clinging to the far edge. Honest!

    Then I grabbed the mirror plate in the 3-jaw, lined up on the stub, and drilled maybe 4 mm down, which was roughly to the middle of the ball. The tubing was a firm push-fit in the hole and I hope it won’t over-stress the plastic into cracking.

    Gluing the mirror strut
    Gluing the mirror strut

    Run the spindle up, remove the drill, grab the strut in the chuck (actually, I had to swap in the larger chuck first), dab some Plastruct solvent glue on both ends, align the strut with the stub (they’re actually square in that section), run the spindle down to ram the tubing into the strut, then a bit more to apply pressure to the joint. I made the total hole depth about 2 mm longer than the tubing, so as to avoid the embarrassment of having the ends not quite meet in the middle.

    No CNC; pure manual Joggy Thing action.

    Let it cure overnight.

    It’s now back on Mary’s helmet, with a pair of black cable ties ensuring that it won’t pop off, and seems to be working fine. I’m sure the ball joint will fail later this year, although that won’t be due to this repair.

    Mirror on helmet again
    Mirror on helmet again
  • 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!

  • Mobile Amateur Radio Power: Check the Fuseholders

    The Yaesu FT-857 I have in the car has been not turning on lately, which I feared had something to do with being cooked inside a closed van for a week on the top level of a Camden parking garage during the hottest part of the summer.

    But, no, as it turned out, that had nothing to do with it: when I got the radio on the workbench, it powered up just fine. Back in the car, it’s dead.

    Which implies a power problem. The radio power comes from 10-AWG zip cord, through a pair of 40 A fuses, directly from the battery. The zip cord terminates in Anderson Powerpoles (of course) under the driver seat, mated to the end of the cable that came with the radio. That cable uses craptastic Molex connectors (equally of course) that are instantly suspect when any problems arise, plus a pair of smaller in-line 3AG glass fuses.

    Voltage at the Molex connectors: anything from 4.8 V to 11.9 V, depending on imponderable factors. Voltage at the Powerpoles: ditto. So maybe it’s not the Molex connectors, after all.

    The 40 A fuses are the kind the high-power automotive sound system folks use, complete with gratuitous goldish-plated everything. These I got surplus at a minute fraction of sticker price and mounted on the air filter housing, thusly:

    Engine compartment fuses for radio power
    Engine compartment fuses for radio power

    I plugged a 12 V bulb in place of the radio, then went a-measuring. Voltage downstream of the hot fuse: 0 V. Tah-dah, it’s a bad fuse!

    Nope, the fuse element is intact.

    The zip cord terminates in ferrules penetrated by 1/8-inch setscrews. Applying a wrench, I find that the setscrews are somewhat loose, although nothing catastrophic. Tighten all four screws and the radio turns on just fine.

    Case closed!

    Until the next day, when the radio doesn’t turn on. Reinstall the lamp, re-measure, once again find 0 V downstream of the hot fuse.

    Pull the fuse out again and it comes apart in my hand.

    Defective 40A fuse
    Defective 40A fuse

    Huh. That would explain everything.

    I suspect the fuse was marginally defective from the factory and finally failed after that prolonged heat wave. Living in the engine compartment isn’t easy under the best of circumstances, so I’ll give this one a pass.

    Being that sort of bear, I plucked a spare fuse from the ziplock baggie of fuses & bulbs that’s tucked into the van’s jack compartment, popped it in place, and the radio works fine again.

    Problem solved, for sure!

    Side note: those fuseholder screws go through the air filter housing, into nuts with Loctite, and I ruined the threads to absolutely prevent the nuts from coming off. You really don’t want a nut loose inside the engine air intake, downstream of the air filter and upstream of the throttle…

  • 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.

  • 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.