Vacuum forming is perhaps one of the less popular tools in the modern maker arsenal, something which surprises us a bit because it offers many possibilities. We’ve created our own vacuum forms on 3D printed moulds for ages, so it’s interesting to see [Pisces Printing ] following the same path. But what you might not realize at first is that the vacuum forming sheets themselves are also 3D printed.

The full video is below the break, and in it he details making a mould from PETG, and in particular designing it for easy release. The part he’s making is a belt guard for a table top lathe, and the PETG sheet he’s forming it from is also 3D printed. He makes the point that it’s by no means perfect, for example he shows us a bit of layer separation, but it seems promising enough for further experimentation.  His vacuum forming setup seems particularly small, which looks as though it makes the job of making a sheet somewhat simpler.

The cost of a vacuum forming sheet of whichever polymer is hardly high, so we can’t see this technique making sense for everyday use. But as we’ve seen in previous experiments, the printed sheets so make it easy to add color and texture to the final product, which obviously adds some value to the technique.

Thanks [Tomas Harvie Mudrunka] for the tip.

Rev up your browsers, package managers, or whatever other tool you use to avail yourself of new software releases, because the KiCAD team have announced that barring any major bugs being found in the next few hours, tomorrow should see the release of version 9 of the open source EDA suite. Who knows, depending on where you are in the world that could have already happened when you read this.

Skimming through the long list of enhancements brought into this version there’s one thing that strikes us; how this is now a list of upgrades and tweaks to a stable piece of software rather than essential features bringing a rough and ready package towards usability. There was a time when using KiCAD was a frustrating experience of many quirks and interface annoyances, but successive versions have improved it beyond measure. We would pass comment that we wished all open source software was as polished, but the fact is that much of the commercial software in this arena is not as good as this.

So head on over and kick the tires on this new KiCAD release, assuming that it passes those final checks. We look forward to the community’s verdict on it.

[Michael Wessel] found some of his old DOS 3D graphics software and tried to run it on an 8088 PC. The tale of adding an 8087 co-processor to speed up the rendering was anything but straightforward, resulting in a useful little project.

There was a point around the end of the 1980s when the world of PCs had moved on to the 386, but the humble 8086 and 8088 hung around at the consumer end of the market. For Europeans that meant a variety of non-standard machines with brand names such as Amstrad and Schneider, and even surprisingly, later on Sinclair and Commodore too.

Of these the Schneider Euro PC was an all-in-one design reminiscent of an Amiga or Atari ST, packing a serviceable 8088 PC with a single 3.5″ floppy drive. A cheap machine like this was never thought to need an 8087, and lacked the usual socket on the motherboard, so he made a small PCB daughter board for the 8088 socket with space for both chips.

It’s a surprisingly simple circuit, as obviously the two chips were meant to exist together. It certainly had the desired effect on his frame rate, though we’re not sure how many other Euro PC users will need it. It does make us curious though, as to how quickly a modern microcontroller could emulate an 8087 for an even faster render time. Meanwhile if you’re curious about the 8087, of course [Ken Shirriff] has taken a look at it.

The world of computer enthusiasts has over time generated many subcultures and fandoms, each of which has in turn spawned its own media. [Intric8] has shared the tale of his falling down a rabbit hole as he traced one of them, a particularly esoteric disk magazine for the Commodore 64. The disks are bright yellow, and come with intricate home-made jackets and labels. Sticking them into a 1541 drive does nothing, because these aren’t standard fare, instead they require GEOS and a particularly upgraded machine. They appear at times in Commodore swap meets, and since they formed a periodical there are several years’ worth to collect that extend into the 2000s, long after the heyday of the 64.

Picking up nuggets of information over time, he traces them to Oregon, and the Astoria Commodore User Group, and to [Lord Ronin], otherwise known as David Mohr. Sadly the magazine ended with his death in 2009, but until then he produced an esoteric selection of stories, adventure games, and other software for surely one of the most exclusive computer clubs in existence. It’s a fascinating look into computer culture from before the Internet, even though by 2009 the Internet had well and truly eclipsed it, when disks like these were treasured for the information they contained. So if you find any of these yellow Penny Farthing disks, make sure that they or at least their contents are preserved.

Surprisingly, this isn’t the only odd format disk magazine we’ve seen.

Typography enthusiasts reach a point at which they can recognise a font after seeing only a few letters in the wild, and usually identify its close family if not the font itself. It’s unusual then for a font to leave them completely stumped, but that’s where [Marcin Wichary] found himself. He noticed a font which many of you will also have seen, on typewriter and older terminal keys. It has a few unusual features that run contrary to normal font design such as slightly odd-shaped letters and a constant width line, and once he started looking, it appeared everywhere. Finding its origin led back well over a century, and led him to places as diverse as New York street furniture and NASA elevators.

The font in question is called Gorton, and it came from the Gorton Machine Co, a Wisconsin manufacturer. It’s a font designed for a mechanical router, which is why it appears on so much custom signage and utilitarian components such as keyboard keys. Surprisingly its history leads back into the 19th century, predating many of the much more well-know sans serif fonts. So keep an eye out for it on your retro tech, and you’ll find that you’ve seen a lot more of it than you ever knew. If you are a fellow font-head, you might also know the Hershey Font, and we just ran a piece on the magnetic check fonts last week.

Thanks [Martina] for the tip!

A couple of years ago we were excited to read news of an entirely 3D printed camera, right down to the shutter. We wrote it up back then but sadly the required STL files were not yet available. Now after time away with his family, its creator [Mark Hiltz] is back. The medium-format Pioneer Camera can now be downloaded for printing in its entirety under a Creative Commons licence.

Looking at the design, it appears to be a relatively straightforward build. The shutter is extremely simple, as far as we can see, relying on magnets to ensure that the open part of its rotation is at an unstable repulsing point between stable magnetic poles. The images aren’t perfect because he’s using a very simple lens, but this is part of the charm of a camera like this one. We hope that people will take it and produce refinements to the design making for a cheap and good entry to medium format photography.

While you’re printing your own Pioneer, take a look at our original coverage.

One of the most popular evergreen toys is also one of the simplest, wooden track with push-along trains. We all know the brand name, and savvy parents know to pick up the much cheaper knock-off because the kid won’t know the difference. But a really cool kid shouldn’t have to push their train around by hand, and thus [Lauri] has given the wooden track a real, powered, locomotive.

In the 3D printed chassis goes a small geared motor driving one axle, with an ESP32 and a motor driver taking care of the smarts. Power comes from an 18650 cell, which almost looks like the right scale for a fake steam boiler. The surprise with this train comes in the front axle, this machine has steering. We’re curious, because isn’t the whole point of a train that the track directs it where it needs to go? Or perhaps a little help is required in the absence of a child’s guidance when it comes to points. Either way, with remote control we guess there would be few kids who wouldn’t want one. We certainly do.

The ESP32 family are the microcontrollers which just keep on giving, as new versions keep them up-to-date and plenty of hackers come up with new things for them. A popular device is a general purpose computer with a QWERTY keypad, and the latest of many we’ve seen comes from [StabbyJack]. It’s a credit card sized machine whose special trick is that its keyboard is integrated in the 3D printing of its case. We’ve seen rubber membranes and push in keys, but this one has flexible print-in-place keys that line up on the switches on its PCB.

It’s not complete yet but the hardware appears to be pretty much there, and aside from that keyboard it has an ESP32-S3 and a 1.9″ SPI LCD. When finished it aims for an ambitious specification, with thermal camera and time-of-flight range finder hardware, along with an OS and software to suit. We like it a lot, though we suspect it might be a little small for our fingers.

If you like this project you may appreciate another similar one, and perhaps your version will need an OS.

The Tiny Tapeout custom ASIC project has been around for a while now, and has passed through several iterations of its production. On each Tiny Tapeout chip are multiple designs, each representing an individual project, and in use the chip is configured to present that project to its pins. Given enough Tiny Tapeout chips it was inevitable that someone whould eventually make a project using two such functions, and here’s [Sylvain Munaut] with an SDR using Tiny Tapeouts 6 and 7.

At its heart is [Carsten Wulff]’s 8 bit ADC from Tiny Tapeout 6, fed by [Kolos Koblász]’s Gilbert cell RF mixer from Tiny Tapeout 7. There’s a local oscillator provided by an RP2040, and a USB interface board which sends the data to a host computer where GNU Radio does the maths. On the bench it’s receiving an FM signal generated around 30MHz by a signal generator, followed by some slightly indistinct commercial radio stations.

It’s clear that there are many better SDRs than this one, and that (as yet) Tiny Tapeout is perhaps not the radio enthusiast’s choice. But it does demonstrate beautifully how the chips are more than just curios, and we’re definitely in the era of useful on-demand ASICs.

The video is below the break, meanwhile you can learn about Tiny Tapeout from [Matt Venn]’s Supercon talk.

The BASIC language may be considered old-hat here in 2025, and the days when a computer came as a matter of course with a BASIC interpreter are far behind us, but it can still provide many hours of challenge and fun. Even with our love of all things 8-bit, though, we’re still somewhat blown away by [Matthew Begg]’s BASIC interpreter written in 10 lines of BASIC. It’s an entry in the BASIC 10-liner competition, and it’s written to run on a Sinclair ZX Spectrum.

The listing can be viewed as a PNG file on the linked page. It is enough to cause even the most seasoned retrocomputer enthusiasts a headache because, as you might expect, it pushes the limits of the language and the Sinclair interpreter.  It implements Tiny Basic as a subset of the more full-featured BASICs, and he’s the first to admit it’s not fast by any means. He gives a line-by-line explanation, and yes, it’s about as far away from the simple Frogger clones we remember bashing in on our Sinclairs as it’s possible to get.

We love it that there are still boundaries to be pushed, even on machines over four decades old, and especially that this one exceeds what we thought was a pretty good knowledge of Sinclair BASIC. Does this language still have a place in the world? We always look forward to the BASIC 10-liner competition.

Header: background by Bill Bertram, CC BY-SA 2.5.

The Camp Snap is a simple fixed-focus digital camera with only an optical viewfinder and a shot counter, which has become a surprise hit among photography enthusiasts for its similarity to a disposable film camera. [Snappiness] has one, and also having a liking for waist-level viewfinders as found on twin-lens reflex cameras, decided to make a new Camp Snap with a waist-level viewfinder. It’s a digital twin-lens reflex camera, of sorts.

Inside the Camp Snap is the little webcam module we’ve come to expect from these cameras, coupled with the usual microcontroller PCB that does the work of saving to SD card. It’s not an ESP32, but if you’ve ever played with an ESP32-CAM board you’re on a similar track. He creates a 3D-printed TLR-style case designed to take the PCB and mount the camera module centrally, with ribbon cable extensions taking care of placement for the other controls. The viewfinder meanwhile uses a lens, a mirror, and a Fresnel lens, and if you think this might look a little familiar it’s because he’s based it upon his previous clip-on viewfinder project.

The result, with an added “Snappiflex” logo and filter ring, is a rather nice-looking camera, and while it will preserve the dubious quality of the Camp Snap, it will certainly make the process of using the camera a lot more fun. We think these cheap cameras, and particular their even less expensive AliExpress cousins, have plenty of hacking potential as yet untapped, and we’re keen to see more work with them. The full video is below the break.

The many YouTube workshop channels make for compelling viewing. even if their hackiness from a Hackaday viewpoint is sometimes variable. But from time to time up pops something that merits a second look. A case in point is [BUM]’s go-kart made entirely from Harbor Freight parts, a complete but rudimentary vehicle for around 300 dollars. It caught our eye because it shows some potential should anyone wish to try their luck with the same idea as a Power Racer or a Hacky Racer.

The chassis, and much of the running gear comes courtesy of a single purchase, a four-wheeled cart. Some cutting and welding produces a surprisingly useful steering mechanism, and the rear axle comes from a post hole digger. Power comes from the Predator gasoline engine, which seems to be a favourite among these channels.

The result is a basic but serviceable go-kart, though one whose braking system can be described as rudimentary at best. The front wheels are a little weak and require some reinforcement, but we can see in this the basis of greater things. Replacing that engine with a converted alternator or perhaps an electric rickshaw motor from AliExpress and providing it with more trustworthy braking would result in possibly the simplest Hacky Racer, or just a stylish means of gliding round a summer hacker camp.

Those little ESP32-CAM boards which mate the WiFi-enabled microcontroller with a small parallel-interface camera module have been with us for years, and while they are undeniably cool to play with, they sometimes stretch the available performance in trying to process and stream video. [Mattsroufe] has made a very cool project with one of them, not only managing to stream video from a small model car, but also to control the steering and motor by means of servos and a little motor driver.

Sadly it’s not entirely a stand-alone device, as the ESP32 streams video to a web server with some Python code to handle the controls. The server can aggregate several of them on one page though, for perhaps a little real-life quad-screen Mario Kart action if you have enough of the things. We can see that this idea has plenty of potential beyond the mere fun of driving a toy car around though, but to whet your appetite there’s a demo video below.

We’ve seen enough of the ESP32-cam before, but perhaps more as a photographic device.

A PCB ruler is a common promotional item, or design exercise. Usually they have some sample outlines and holes as an aid to PCB design, but sometimes they also incorporate some circuitry. [Clovis Fritzen] has given us an ingenious example, in the form of a PCB ruler with a built-in thermometer.

This maybe doesn’t have the fancy seven segment or OLED display you were expecting though, instead it’s an ATtiny85 with a lithium cell, the minimum of components, a thermistor for measurement, and a couple of LEDs that serve as the display. These parts are interesting, because they convey the numbers by flashing. One LED is for the tens and the other the units, so count the flashes and you have it.

We like this display for its simplicity, we can see the same idea could be used in many other places.On a PCB ruler, it certainly stands apart from the usual. It has got plenty of competition though.

In the mid 1980s, there was a rash of 16-bit computers entering the market. One of them stood head and shoulders above the rest: Commodore’s Amiga 1000. It had everything that could reasonably be stuffed into a machine of the period, and multimedia capabilities the rest wouldn’t catch up on for years. [Celso Martinho] has managed to secure one of those first machines, and has shared his tale of bringing it back to life.

The post is as much a love letter to the Amiga and review of A1000 peripherals as it is a restoration, which makes it a good read for retrocomputing enthusiasts.  He recapped it and it wouldn’t boot, the solution of which turned out to be a reminder for the rest of us.

The machine had a RAM upgrade in the form of a daughterboard under the processor, its pins had weakened the leaves of the processor socket so it wouldn’t make contact. So don’t forget to replace sockets as well as capacitors.

The resulting machine is much faster thanks to a modern upgrade with a much quicker processor, memory, and an SD card for storage. He goes into some of the other upgrades available today, all of which would have had early-1990s-us salivating. It’s fair to say that in 2025 an A1000 is more 40-year-old curio than useful modern computer, but we can’t fail to admit to a bit of envy. The Amiga holds a special affection, here.

You can work with a part for many decades, and still learn something new about it. At least we can, and we don’t mind admitting it. Take film capacitors — we all know they aren’t a polarized part like an electrolytic capacitor is, but as [TheDannVal] points out, that doesn’t mean both their leads are the same.

This might sound counterintuitive, but if you consider for a moment their construction it makes sense. A film capacitor is made from two strips of foil with a strip of plastic film between then, rolled up tightly into a cylinder. One of the pieces of foil that forms one side of the capacitor ends up on the outside of the cylinder, and thus forms the shield for the other. Thus if that side isn’t connected to the lower impedance side of whichever circuitry it resides in, it can pick up noise, while the inside strip of foil can not. It’s so obvious when demonstrated, but we have to admit to never having considered it before. Some film capacitors have a line marked on them to denote the connection forming the shield, for those that don’t he provides a couple of methods for detecting it.

The full video is below the break, and maybe you too can now pay attention to your capacitors for lower noise audio circuitry.

We’re used to those high voltage projects which use a self-oscillating transformer circuit with a TV flyback winding, and we have even at times railed against them for their inefficiency compared to a real flyback circuit using the same parts. But what happens if the same idea is used to create a low voltage instead of a high one? [D. Creative] has a soldering gun project doing just this, making a low voltage at a very high current.

The video of the project is below the break, and while electrically it’s nothing unexpected, we’re taken by the quality of the build. All the parts come from scrap electronics, the main transformer is three ferrite cores with a piece of copper busbar as the secondary. The circuitry is built dead bug style, and it’s housed in a gun-style case made by hand from sheet Perspex. It takes 12 volt power from a laptop power supply, and feeds it to the oscillator which is perched up at the back of the device. The transformer fits in the “barrel”, and a pair of large capacitors fit in the handle. We expect it to get hot, but the duty cycle on these devices in use is probably low enough to keep it from melting.

We like anything that uses scrap parts to make something useful, and we’re particularly taken with the casing of this one. It looks as though the parts come from old switch mode power supplies, something we’ve been known to rob ourselves.

Over the last decade we have brought you frequent reports not from the coolest of hackerspaces or the most bleeding edge of engineering in California or China, but from the rolling prairies of the American Midwest. Those endless fields of cropland waving in the breeze have been the theatre for an unlikely battle over right to repair, the result of which should affect us all. The case of FEDERAL TRADE COMMISSION, STATE OF ILLINOIS, and STATE OF MINNESOTA, v. DEERE & COMPANY  relates to the machinery manufacturer’s use of DRM to restrict the repair of its products, and holds the promise to end the practice once and for all.

This is being written in Europe, where were an average person asked to name a brand that says “America”, they might reach for the familiar; perhaps Disney, McDonalds, or Coca-Cola. These are the flag-bearers of American culture for outsiders, but it’s fair to say that none of them can claim to have built the country. The green and yellow Deere tractors on the other hand represent the current face of a company with nearly two hundred years of farming history, which by virtue of producing some of the first mass-produced plows, had perhaps the greatest individual role in shaping modern American agriculture and thus indirectly the country itself. To say that Deere is woven into the culture of rural America is something of an understatement, agricultural brands like Deere have an enviable customer base, the most loyal of any industry.

Thus while those green and yellow tractors are far from the only case of DRM protected repairability, they have become the symbolic poster child for the issue as a whole. It’s important to understand then how far-reaching it is beyond the concerns of us technology and open-source enthusiasts, and into something much more fundamental.

The text of the lawsuit itself can be readily downloaded as a PDF, and from our non-lawyerly pass it seems that at its heart lies the manufacturer’s monopolistic practices by restricting access to software diagnostic and repair tools, rather than the use of DRM itself. Thus should the suit not go Deere’s way, as we read it it wouldn’t undermine the DMCA or the use of DRM, but it would lessen the attractiveness of DRM to a manufacturer by removing their ability to restrict repairers whether they use DRM or not. This would propagate out beyond the farm, and have a consequent effect on the repairability of much more than tractors.

This lawsuit is the latest of many targeting the same issue, and despite having the FTC behind it we’re not certain of its chances of success in the current climate. We hope that decades of these practices causing a modern Deere to be worth considerably less than an old one will inflict enough damage on the brand for its competitors to take note. There was a time when buying a Deere such as the one your scribe piloted over the fields of Oxfordshire years ago was the “Nobody ever got fired for buying IBM” of agricultural machinery, while now there’s a seed of doubt as to whether a minor breakdown could cause a lost harvest. That’s not an enviable position for any brand to find itself in, especially by its own hand.

The chances are that many of you will have made an FM “bug” style transmitter, a simple one-transistor oscillator usually driven by a small electret microphone. It’s also relatively straightforward to do the same for AM, and if you take a look through AliExpress you’ll find some modules which do just that. [Doz Television Workshop] has one, and he’s treated us to a thorough run-down of its design before addressing some of its shortcomings.

An AM transmitter is simple enough, in this case an oscillator and buffer driving a class C power amplifier. The modulation is applied by a transistor in series with the power amp, driven from an audio amplifier. Some attention has gone into the design of this one, with a proper output filter and plenty of room for tweaking to achieve proper levels and modulation density. There are some problems though — The modulator transistor is mounted upside down for the heatsink, and the frequency stability leaves something to be desired. [Doz] fixes the heatsink mounting and incorporates a DDS frequency synthesizer with an Arduino for control.

More after the break…

The resulting transmitter is better, but there’s still a problem. The limitations of AM broadcasting demanded both limiting and pre-emphasis, which he applies in software through one of the more powerful Teensy boards. We have to admit we’d have tried to do the job the analogue way, but that’s merely preference.

This board looks to be a good solution for an AM radio collector wishing to use their sets in an age of declining AM transmission. It should be legal under Part 15 for Americans, but as he points out it’s not for Brits. We suspect such a low-powered device wouldn’t attract adverse attention though. The video is below the break.

If you don’t need so much quality, it’s possible to do the job in a much less elegant manner.