Getting a look at the internals of a garden variety “wall wart” isn’t the sort of thing that’s likely to excite the average Hackaday reader. You’ve probably cracked one open yourself, and even if you haven’t, you’ve likely got a pretty good idea of what’s inside that sealed up brick of plastic. But sometimes a teardown can be just as much about the journey as it is the end result.

Truth be told, we’re not 100% sure if this teardown from [Brian Dipert] over at EDN was meant as an April Fool’s joke or not. Certainly it was posted on the right day, but the style is close enough to some of his previous work that it’s hard to say. In any event, he’s created a visual feast — never in history has an AC/DC adapter been photographed so completely and tastefully.

[Brian] even goes so far as to include images of the 2.5 lb sledgehammer and paint scraper that he uses to brutally break open the ultrasonic-welded enclosure. The dichotomy between the thoughtful imagery and the savage way [Brian] breaks the device open only adds to the surreal nature of the piece. Truly, the whole thing seems like it should be part of some avant garde installation in SoHo.

After he’s presented more than 20 images of the exterior of the broken wall wart, [Brian] finally gets to looking at the internals. There’s really not much to look at, there’s a few circuit diagrams and an explanation of the theory behind these unregulated power supplies, and then the write-up comes to a close as abruptly as it started.

So does it raise the simple teardown to an art form? We’re not sure, but we know that we’ll never look at a power adapter in quite the same way again.

We are always fascinated by bubble memory. In the late 1970s, this was the “Next Big Thing” that, as you may have guessed, was, in fact, not the next big thing at all. But there were a number of products that used it as non-volatile memory at a time when the alternative was tape or disk. [Smbakeryt] has a cool word processor with an acoustic coupler modem made by Teleram. Inside is — you guessed it — bubble memory.

The keyboard was nonfunctional, but fixable. Although we wouldn’t have guessed the problem. Bubble memory was quite high tech. It used magnetic domains circulating on a thin film of magnetic material. Under the influence of a driving field, the bubbles would march past a read-write head that could create, destroy, or read the state of the bubble.

Why didn’t it succeed? Well, hard drives got cheap and fairly rugged. The technology couldn’t compete with the high-density hard drives that could be reached with improved heads and recording strategies. Bubble memory did find use in high-vibration items, but also wound up in things like this terminal, at least one oscilloscope, and a video game.

Bubble memory evolved from twistor memory, one of several pre-disk technologies. While they are hard to come by today, you can find the occasional project that either uses some surplus or steals a part off of a device like this one.

Over the years we have seen a lot of fake electronics, ranging from fake power saving devices that you plug into an outlet, to fake car ECU optimizers that you stick into the OBD port. These are all similar in that they fake functionality while happily lighting up a LED or two to indicate that they’re doing ‘something’. Less expected here was that we’d be seeing fake WiFi repeaters, but recently [Big Clive] got his hands on one and undertook the arduous task of reverse-engineering it.

The simple cardboard box which it comes in claims that it’s a 2.4 GHz unit that operates at 300 Mbps, which would be quite expected for the price. [Clive] obtained a real working WiFi repeater previously that did boast similar specifications and did indeed work. The dead giveaway that it is a fake are the clearly fake antennae, along with the fact that once you plug it in, no new WiFi network pops up or anything else.

Inside the case – which looks very similar to the genuine repeater – there is just a small PCB attached to the USB connector. On the PCB are a 20 Ohm resistor and a blue LED, which means that the LED is being completely overdriven as well and is likely to die quite rapidly. Considering that a WiFi repeater is supposed to require a setup procedure, it’s possible that these fake repeaters target an audience which does not quite understand what these devices are supposed to do, but they can also catch more informed buyers unaware who thought they were buying some of the cheap real ones. Caveat emptor, indeed.

Every year, USB flash drives get cheaper and hold more data. Unfortunately, they don’t always get faster. The reality is, many USB 3.0 flash drives aren’t noticeably faster than their USB 2.0 cousins, as [Chase Fournier] found with the ultra-cheap specimens purchased over at his local Micro Center store.

Although these all have USB 3.0 interfaces, they transfer at less than 30 MB/s, but why exactly? After popping open a few of these drives the answer appears to be that they use the old-style Phison controller (PS2251-09-V) and NAND flash packages that you’d expect to find in a USB 2.0 drive.

Across the 32, 64, and 256 GB variants the same Phison controller is used, but the PCB has provisions for both twin TSOP packages or one BGA package. The latter package turned out to be identical to those found in the iPhone 8. Also interesting was that the two 256 GB drives [Chase] bought had different Phison chips, as in one being BGA and the other QFP. Meanwhile some flash drives use eMMC chips, which are significantly faster, as demonstrated in the video.

It would seem that you really do get what you pay for, with $3 “USB 3.0” flash drives providing the advertised storage, but you really need to budget in the extra time that you’ll be waiting for transfers.

If you think of old recording technology, you probably think of magnetic tape, either in some kind of cassette or, maybe, on reels. But there’s an even older technology that recorded voice on hair-thin stainless steel wire and [Mr. Carlson] happened upon a recorded reel of wire. Can he extract the audio from it? Of course! You can see and hear the results in the video below.

It didn’t hurt that he had several junk wire recorders handy, although he thought none were working. It was still a good place to start since the heads and the feed are unusual to wire recorders. Since the recorder needed a little work, we also got a nice teardown of that old device. The machine was missing belts, but some rubber bands filled in for a short-term fix.

The tape head has to move to keep the wire spooled properly, and even with no audio, it is fun to watch the mechanism spin both reels and move up and down. But after probing the internal pieces, it turns out there actually was some audio, it just wasn’t making it to the speakers.

The audio was noisy and not the best reproduction, but not bad for a broken recorder that is probably at least 80 years old. We hope he takes the time to fully fix the old beast later, but for now, he did manage to hear what was “on the wire,” even though that has a totally different meaning than it usually does.

It is difficult to recover wire recordings, just as it will be difficult to read modern media one day. If you want to dive deep into the technology, we can help with that, too.

Although taken for granted these days, autofocus (AF) used to be a premium feature on film- and digital cameras, with [Markus Kohlpaintner] taking us through an exhaustive overview of Canon’s AF systems and how they work. On Canon cameras AF became a standard feature with the introduction of its EF lenses in 1987, which are found on its EOS SLR (single-lens reflex) series of professional and prosumer cameras.

Over the decades, Canon has used many different AF drive mechanisms within these lenses, all with their own pros and cons. The article goes through each of them, starting with the original Arc-Form Drive (AFD) and ending with the newest Voice Coil Motor (VCM), showing their internal construction.  Of note are the USM (ultrasonic motor) types of AF systems that use a piezoelectric motor, the functioning of which using a traveling wave across the stator is also detailed, including the integrated feedback control system.

Ultimately the end user is mostly concerned with how well the AF works, of course. Here the biggest difference is probably whether manual adjustment is possible, with not all AF systems supporting full-time manual adjustment. With the newer AF systems this manual adjustment is now performed digitally rather than with a direct coupling. Although few people probably give AF much thought, it’s fascinating to see how much engineering went into these complex systems before even touching upon the algorithms that decide what to focus on in a scene.

There’s something magical about the clunk of a heavy 1950s portable radio – the solid thunk of Bakelite, the warm hum of tubes glowing to life. This is exactly why [Ken’s Lab] took on the restoration of a Philco 52-664, a portable AC/DC radio originally sold for $45 in 1953 (a small fortune back then!). Despite its beat-up exterior and faulty guts, [Ken] methodically restored it to working condition. His video details every crackling capacitor and crusty resistor he replaced, and it’s pure catnip for any hacker with a soft spot for analog tech. Does the name Philco ring a bell? Lately, we did cover the restoration of a 1958 Philco Predicta television.

What sets this radio hack apart? To begin with, [Ken] kept the restoration authentic, repurposing original capacitor cans and using era-appropriate materials – right down to boiling out old electrolytics in his wife’s discarded cooking pot. But, he went further. Lacking the space for modern components, [Ken] fabbed up a custom mounting solution from stiff styrofoam, fibreboard, and all-purpose glue. He even re-routed the B-wiring with creative terminal hacks. It’s a masterclass in patience, precision, and resourcefulness.

If this tickles your inner tinkerer, don’t miss out on the full video. It’s like stepping into a time machine.

Shortwave radio has a charm all its own: part history, part mystery, and a whole lot of tech nostalgia. The Hallicrafters S-53A is a prime example of mid-century engineering, but when you get your hands on one, chances are it won’t be in mint condition. Which was exactly the case for this restoration project by [Ken’s Lab], where the biggest challenge wasn’t fried capacitors or burned-out tubes, but a stubborn band selector switch that refused to budge.

What made it come to this point? The answer is: time, oxidation, and old-school metal tolerances. Instead of forcing it (and risking a very bad day), [Ken]’s repair involved careful disassembly, a strategic application of lubricant, and a bit of patience. As the switch started to free up, another pleasant surprise emerged: all the tubes were original Hallicrafters stock. A rare find, and a solid reason to get this radio working without unnecessary modifications. Because some day, owning a shortwave radio could be a good decision.

Once powered up, the receiver sprang to life, picking up shortwave stations loud and clear. Hallicrafters’ legendary durability proved itself once before, in this fix that we covered last year. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the best repairs aren’t about drastic changes, but small, well-placed fixes.

What golden oldie did you manage to fix up?

Want to make your own air knife to cut things with? Unfortunately that’s not what these devices are intended for, but [This Old Tony] will show you how to make your own, while explaining what they are generally intended for.  His version deviates from the commercial version which he got his hands on in that he makes a round version instead of the straight one, but the concept is the same.

In short, an air knife is a laminar pressurized airflow device that provides a very strong and narrow air pattern, using either compressed air or that from a blower. Generally air knives will use the Coandă effect to keep the laminar flow attached to the device for as long as possible to multiply the air pressure above that from the laminar flow from the air knife itself. These are commonly used for cleaning debris and dust off surfaces in e.g. production lines.

As [Tony] shows in the disassembly of a commercial device, they are quite basic, with just two aluminium plates and a thin shim that creates the narrow opening through which the air can escape. The keyword here is ‘thin shim’, as [Tony] discovers that even a paper shim is too thick already. Amusingly, although he makes a working round air knife this way, it turns out that these are generally called an air amplifier, such as those from Exair and are often used for cooling and ventilation, with some having an adjustable opening to adjust the resulting airflow.

Some may recognize this principle for those fancy ‘bladeless’ fans that companies like Dyson sell, as they use essentially the same principle, just with a fan providing the pressure rather than a compressor.

If you deal with diabetes, you probably know how to prick your finger and use a little meter to read your glucose levels. The meters get better and better which mostly means they take less blood, so you don’t have to lacerate your finger so severely. Even so, taking your blood several times a day is hard on your fingertips. Continuous monitoring is available, but — until recently — required a prescription and was fairly expensive. [Andy] noticed the recent introduction of a relatively inexpensive over-the-counter sensor, the Stelo CGM. Of course, he had to find out what was inside, and thanks to him, you can see it, too.

If you haven’t used a continuous glucose monitor (CGM), there is still a prick involved, but it is once every two weeks or so and occurs in the back of your arm. A spring drives a needle into your flesh and retracts. However, it leaves behind a little catheter. The other end of the catheter is in an adhesive-backed module that stays put. It sounds a little uncomfortable, but normally, it is hardly noticeable, and even if it is, it is much better than sticking your finger repeatedly to draw out a bunch of blood.

So, what’s in the module? Plenty. There is a coin cell, of course. An nRF52832 microcontroller wakes up every 30 seconds to poll the sensor. Every 5 minutes it wakes up to send data via Bluetooth to your phone. There are antennas for Bluetooth and NFC (the phone or meter reads the sensor via NFC to pair with it). There are also a few custom chips of unknown function.

[Andy] makes the point that the battery could last much longer than the two-week span of the device, but we would guess that a combination of the chemicals involved, the adhesive stickiness, the need to clean the site (you usually alternate arms), and accounting for battery life during storage, two weeks might be conservative, but not ridiculous.

It’s amazing that we live in a time when this much electronics can be considered disposable. CGM is a hard problem. What we really want is an artificial pancreas.

If you’re into Soviet-era gear with a techy twist, you’ll love this teardown of a rare Zenit 19 camera courtesy of [msylvain59]. Found broken on eBay (for a steal!), this 1982 made-in-USSR single-lens reflex camera isn’t the average Zenit. It features, for example, electronically controlled shutter timing – quite the upgrade from its manual siblings.

The not-so-minor issue that made this Zenit 19 come for cheap was a missing shutter blade. You’d say – one blade gone rogue! Is it lost in the camera’s guts, or snapped clean off? Add to that some oxidized battery contacts and a cracked viewfinder, and you’ve got proper fixer-upper material. But that’s where it gets intriguing: the camera houses a rare hybrid electronic module (PAPO 074), complete with epoxy-covered resistors. The shutter speed dial directly adjusts a set of resistors, sending precise signals to the shutter assembly: a neat blend of old-school mechanics and early electronics.

Now will it shutter, or stutter? With its vertical metal shutter – uncommon in Zenits – and separate light metering circuitry, this teardown offers a rare glimpse into Soviet engineering flair. Hungry for more? We’ve covered a Soviet-era computer and a radio in the past. If you’re more into analog camera teardowns, you might like this analog Pi upgrade attempt, or this bare minimum analog camera project.

There’s no shortage of cheap & cheerful power supplies which you can obtain from a range of online retailers, but with no listed certification worth anything on them calling them ‘dodgy’ is more of a compliment. On the [DiodeGoneWild] YouTube channel an adjustable power supply by the model name BSK-602 is tested and torn down to see exactly what less than $5 off sites like Alibaba will get you.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, voltage regulation is very unstable with massive drifting when left to heat up for a few hours, even though it does hit the 3 V to 24 V DC and 3 A output that it’s optimistically rated for. After popping open the adapter, a very basic switching mode power supply is revealed with an abysmal component selection and zero regard for safety or primary and secondary side isolation. With the case open, the thermal camera reveals that the secondary side heats up to well over 150 °C, explaining why the case was deforming and the sticker peeling off after a few hours of testing.

The circuit itself is based around a (possibly legit) UC3843RN 500 kHz current mode PWM controller, with the full schematic explained in the video. Highlights include the lack of inrush protection, no EMI filtering, a terrible & temperature-dependent voltage reference, not to mention poor component selection and implementation. Basically it’s an excellent SMPS if you want to blast EMI, fry connected electronics and conceivably burn down your home.