True weather geeks will disagree, but there might be a better way to know how to dress for the day than divining what the weather will likely be from the current readings for temperature, pressure, humidity, and wind. Sure, the data will give you a good idea of where the weather is heading, but perhaps a quick visual summary such as the one offered by this pictorial landscape weather display is a better way to get out the door in the morning.
While many consumer weather stations incorporate some kind of graphical forecast for quick reference, [lds133] took a slightly different approach to forecasting. A cartoon landscape represents the day ahead, with various elements representing the coming weather scrolling across the display as time progresses. Trees are used to indicate wind direction and speed, with palm trees indicating south wind and pine trees winds from the north, and the taller the trees, the stronger the wind. The forest floor rises and falls with the expected temperature, the sun and moon appear at the proper time to indicate sunrise and sunset, and cloud icons are added when needed to show the degree of cloud cover. And because into each life a little rain must fall, animations show when you can expect rain or snow.
As for the electronics, if you think this would be a perfect application for an E-ink module, [lds133] agrees. The 296×128 pixel Waveshare display is the perfect aspect ratio for the job and provides nice, crisp icons. The display is updated every 15 minutes from the OpenWeather API by a Python program running on an ESP32 behind the scenes.
Fair warning, while the first item this week has no obvious connection to hacking, when 43 Rhesus monkeys escape from a lab, it’s just something that needs to be discussed. The tiny primates broke free from Alpha Genesis, a primate research facility in South Carolina. The monkey jailbreak seems to have occurred sometime on Wednesday, shortly after which the sheriff of Beaufort County was notified to be on the lookout for the tribe. Luckily, none of the animals has been used in any kind of infectious disease research, so this likely won’t be the origin story for anything apocalyptic. At least some of the animals were quickly located, doing their monkey thing in the woods and getting to swing from real trees for probably the first time in their lives. Alpha Genesis employees are trying to lure the monkeys back to captivity with food, but we suspect they’re too smart for that. They’ll probably come back on their own recognizance or when they get bored and realize that the real world isn’t all they thought it would be. When it’s all done we’d love to hear details about the breakout; was it something the monkeys got together and planned, or did one of the humans mess up?
With apologies in advance for the pun, there’s been a lot of buzz lately about tech billionaires falling over themselves to be the first to add “nuclear power mogul” to their CVs with reactor-powered AI data centers. In the early lead was Meta’s Mark Zuckerberg, but it looks like he might have reached an unexpected hurdle in the form of a rare species of bee in residence near the site where he was planning to build the data center. The original article is aggressively paywalled and we haven’t been able to find out exactly what species of bee bested Zuck or what the specific concerns are, although we suspect that it’s disruption of habitat due to construction activities for the data center itself rather than anything related to the nuclear power aspect, since the deal was with an operator of an existing power plant. But fear not — Microsoft, Google, and Amazon are all waiting in the wings with their own nuclear ambitions, so carbon-free AI searches thanks to controlled nuclear fusion will surely soon be a thing.
Although the bees may have thwarted Zuck, not so the Seven Seas, as news leaks indicate that Meta is in the process of building a globe-spanning underseas fiber optic cable. The cable is said to go from coast to coast in the USA the long way, starting in South Carolina across the Atlantic to a landing in Portugal, down the coast of Africa and around the Cape, up to India before heading through to Australia and back across the Pacific to California. The cable is said to carry 16 pairs of fibers and could provide Meta with 320 Tbps of data capacity. That’s a lot of memes.
While you’ve probably never heard of Elwood Edwards, who passed away this week at the age of 74, you’ve certainly heard his voice. Mr. Edwards was the announcer who recorded the famous “You’ve got mail!” email alert for AOL, along with other audio blurbs for the once-ubiquitous ISP. He worked in broadcasting, both AM radio and television, and voiced commercials and announcements before being recommended for the email gig by his wife, who worked at the company that would eventually become AOL, Quantum Computer Services. He got $200 for the session, which he recorded on a cassette tape in his living room, and which would be heard 35 million times a day at AOL’s peak. Not too shabby.
And finally, as proof that we’re living in the weirdest possible timeline comes the story of The Baguette Bandits. It seems that a hacker group — the other kind — broke into French company Schneider Electric and stole 40 GB of data, issuing a $125,000 ransom demand payable in baguettes. The hackers apparently penetrated Schneider via the company’s Jira system and claimed to have specific data on internal projects and issues along with 400,000 lines of user data, which they threatened to release unless they got the baked goods. They did stipulate that they’d halve the ransom amount if Schneider would publically acknowledge the breach. We’re not sure if they want half the number of baguettes or if they want the same number of loaves all cut in half, but either way, it’s a lot of bread. More puns are possible, but we think we’ll leave them all on the table. Seems the yeast we can do.
We say this with the greatest respect, but [Joel] — your exercise routine is horrible! Kudos for getting up and doing something, but 108 trips up and down the stairs? That sounds like torture, not exercise. Even [Joel] admits that it’s so boring that he loses count, and while we’d bet that he isn’t likely to restart the routine when that happens, it’s still annoying enough that he built this clever little lap counter to automate the task.
We kid, of course; any exercise is better than no exercise, and the stairs offer few excuses for skipping the daily workout. To bust the boredom problem, [Joel] toyed with a couple of ideas for toting up his laps before landing on a beam-break optical system with sensors at the top and the bottom of the stairs. Worried about the potential for false triggering by swinging arms and legs, he searched for ideas for bounceless switch circuits in the old “Engineer’s Notebook” by [Forrest Mims] and found a circuit close enough to modify for his needs. Each sensor setup has a high-output red LED and a phototransistor on one side of the stairwell, and a retroreflector on the opposite wall. Breaking the beam switches off the LED on that sensor and switches the other one on, to save on battery power.
The sensor’s flips and flops are counted and displayed on a three-digit seven-segment LED; [Joel] offers no detail on the counter itself, but with [Mims] as his muse, we suspect it’s something like the three-digit BCD counter circuit a few pages on from the bounceless switch circuit. The lap counter is shown in action in the brief video below.
It’s been nearly four years since the Arecibo Telescope collapsed, an event the world got to witness in unprecedented detail thanks to strategically positioned drones. They captured breathtaking video of one of the support cables pulling from its socket as well as the spectacularly destructive results of 900 tons of scientific instruments crashing into the 300-meter primary reflector. But exactly why did those cable sockets fail?
A new report aims to answer that question, and in the process raises some interesting questions of its own. The proximate causes of the collapse have been known for a while, including the most obvious and visible one, the failure of the zinc “spelter sockets” that were cast around the splayed ends of the wire ropes to hold them in place. The new report agrees with this conclusion, at least in part, implicating “zinc creep,” or the tendency for zinc to deform over time under load. Where it appears to differ, though, is with the quality of workmanship on the sockets, finding no issues with the way the individual wires in the failed support cable were manually splayed within the socket before the molten zinc was poured. The report also points out that the collapse probably started when Hurricane Maria swept over Puerto Rico 39 months before the collapse, after which zinc creep in the sockets seemed to accelerate.
But why did the sockets fail? As the report points out, spelter sockets are commonly used to anchor cables that support heavy loads under conditions similar to the tropical climate at Arecibo. After ruling out every other cause, the committee was left with the conclusion that Arecibo itself may have been to blame for the accelerated zinc creep, thanks to electrical currents induced in the cables and sockets when the telescope’s powerful transmitters were used. They call this “long-term, low-current electroplasticity.” Electroplastic effects have been observed since the 1950s, and while far from certain that’s what happened here, the thought is that skin-effect currents induced in the support cables flowed to ground through the zinc sockets, increasing the plasticity of the metal and accelerating the zinc creep that ultimately led to collapse.
Case closed? Hardly. The electroplasticity mechanism for the Arecibo collapse offered by this report is almost a “diagnosis of exclusion” situation. It makes sense, though; since no other spelter sockets have ever failed this way in a century of use, there’s a good chance that the root cause was specific to Arecibo, and since it was once the world’s most powerful radio transmitter, it seems like a red flag that bears further investigation.
If you’re planning on working satellites or doing any sort of RF work where the signal lives down in the dirt, you’re going to need a low-noise amplifier. That’s typically not a problem, as the market is littered with dozens of cheap options that can be delivered in a day or two — you just pay your money and get to work. But is there a case to be made for rolling your own LNA?
[Salil, aka Nuclearrambo] thinks so, and he did a nice job showing us how it’s done. The first step, as always, is to define your specs, which for [Salil] were pretty modest: a low noise figure, moderate gain, and good linearity. He also wanted a bandpass filter for the 2-meter amateur radio band and for weather satellite downlinks, and a bias-tee to power the LNA over the coax feedline. The blog post has a detailed discussion of the electrical design, plus some good tips on PCB design for RF applications. We also found the discussion on bias-tee design helpful, especially for anyone who has ever struggled with the idea that RF and DC can get along together on a single piece of coax. Part 2 concentrates on testing the LNA, mostly using hobbyist-grade test gear like the NanoVNA and tiny SA spectrum analyzer. [Salil]’s tests showed the LNA lived up to the design specs and more, making it more than ready to put to work with an RTL-SDR.
Was this more work than buying an LNA? Absolutely, and probably with the same results. But then again, what’s to learn by just getting a pre-built module in the mail?
“It was the best of times, it was the blurst of times?” Perhaps not anymore, if this Ig Nobel-worthy analysis of the infinite monkey theorem is to be believed. For the uninitiated, the idea is that if you had an infinite number of monkeys randomly typing on an infinite number of keyboards, eventually the complete works of Shakespeare or some other famous writer would appear. It’s always been meant to be taken figuratively as a demonstration of the power of time and randomness, but some people just can’t leave well enough alone. The research, which we hope was undertaken with tongue firmly planted in cheek, reveals that it would take longer than the amount of time left before the heat death of the universe for either a single monkey or even all 200,000 chimpanzees in the world today to type the 884,647 words of Shakespeare’s complete works in the proper order.
We feel like they missed the point completely, since this is supposed to be about an infinite number of monkeys. But if they insist on sticking with real-world force monkey labor, what would really be interesting is an economic analysis of project. How much space would 200,000 chimps need? What would the energy requirements be in terms of food in and waste out? What about electricity so the monkeys can see what they’re doing? If we’re using typewriters, how much paper do we need, and how much land will be deforested for it? Seems like you’ll need replacement chimps as they age out, so how do you make sure the chimps “mix and mingle,” so to speak? And how do you account for maternity and presumably paternity leave? Also, who’s checking the output? Seems like we’d have to employ humans to do this, so what are the economic factors associated with that? Inquiring minds want to know.
Speaking of ridiculous calculations, when your company racks up a fine that only makes sense in exponential notation, you know we’ve reached new levels of stupidity. But here we are, as a Russian court has imposed a two-undecillion rouble fine on Google for blocking access to Russian state media channels. That’s 2×1036 roubles, or about 2×1033 US dollars at current exchange rates. If you’re British and think a billion is a million million, then undecillion means something different entirely, but we don’t have the energy to work that out right now. Regardless, it’s a lot, and given that the total GPD of the entire planet was estimated to be about 100×1012 dollars in 2022, Google better get busy raising the money. We’d prefer they don’t do it the totally-not-evil way they usually do, so it might be best to seek alternate methods. Maybe a bake sale?
A couple of weeks back we sang the praises of SpaceX after they managed to absolutely nail the landing of the Starship Heavy booster after its fifth test flight by managing to pluck it from the air while it floated back to the launch pad. But the amazing engineering success was very close to disaster according to Elon Musk himself, who discussed the details online. Apparently SpaceX engineers shared with him that they were scared about the “spin gas abort” configuration on Heavy prior to launch, and that they were one second away from aborting the “chopsticks” landing in favor of crashing the booster into the ground in front of the launch pad. They also expressed fears about spot welds on a chine on the booster, which actually did rip off during descent and could have fouled on the tower during the catch. But success is a hell of a deodorant, as they say, and it’s hard to argue with how good the landing looked despite the risks.
We saw a couple of interesting stories on humanoid robots this week, including one about a robot with a “human-like gait.” The bot is from China’s EnginAI Robotics and while its gait looks pretty good, there’s still a significant uncanny valley thing going on there, at least for us. And really, what’s the point? Especially when you look at something like this new Atlas demo, which really leans into its inhuman gait to get work done efficiently. You be the judge.
And finally, we’ve always been amazed by Liberty ships, the class of rapidly produced cargo ships produced by the United States to support the British war effort during WWII. Simple in design though they were, the fact that US shipbuilders were able to ramp up production of these vessels to the point where they were building a ship every eight hours has always been fascinating to us. But it’s often true that speed kills, and this video shows the fatal flaw in Liberty ship design that led to the loss of some of the early ships in the class. The short video details the all-welded construction of the ships, a significant advancement at the time but which wasn’t the cause of the hull cracks that led to the loss of some ships. We won’t spoil the story, though. Enjoy.
If you need to measure the temperature of something, chances are good that you could think up half a dozen ways to do it, pretty much all of which would involve some kind of thermometer, thermistor, thermocouple, or other thermo-adjacent device. But what if you need to measure something really hot, hot enough to destroy your instrument? How would you get the job done then?
Should you find yourself in this improbable situation, relax — [Anthony Francis-Jones] has you covered with this calorimetric method for measuring high temperatures. The principle is simple; rather than directly measuring the temperature of the flame, use it to heat up something of known mass and composition and then dunk that object in some water. If you know the amount of water and its temperature before and after, you can figure out how much energy was in the object. From that, you can work backward and calculate the temperature the object must have been at to have that amount of energy.
For the demonstration in the video below, [F-J] dangled a steel ball from a chain into a Bunsen burner flame and dunked it into 150 ml of room-temperature water. After a nice long toasting, the ball went into the drink, raising the temperature by 27 degrees. Knowing the specific heat capacity of water and steel and the mass of each, he worked the numbers and came up with an estimate of about 600°C for the flame. That’s off by a wide margin; typical estimates for a natural gas-powered burner are in the 1,500°C range.
We suspect the main source of error here is not letting the ball and flame come into equilibrium, but no matter — this is mainly intended as a demonstration of calorimetry. It might remind you of bomb calorimetry experiments in high school physics lab, which can also be used to explore human digestive efficiency, if you’re into that sort of thing.
If you’re like us, you’ve got at least one bin dedicated to keeping the random hardware you just can’t bear to part with. In our case it’s mostly populated with the nuts and bolts left over after finishing up a car repair, but however it gets filled, it’s a mess. The degree to which you can tolerate this mess will vary, but for [EmGi], even a moderately untidy pile of bolts was enough to spur this entirely 3D-printed mechanical bolt sorter.
The elements of this machine bear a strong resemblance to a lot of the sorting mechanisms we’ve seen used on automated manufacturing and assembly lines. The process starts with a hopper full of M3 cap head bolts of varying lengths, which are collated by a pair of elevating platforms. These line up the bolts and lift them onto a slotted feed ramp, which lets them dangle by their heads and pushes them into a fixture that moves them through a 90° arc and presents them to a long sorting ramp. The ramp has a series of increasingly longer slots; bolts roll right over the slots until they find the right slot, where they fall into a bin below. Nuts can also feed through the process and get sorted into their own bin.
What we like about [EmGi]’s design is its simplicity. There are no motors, bearings, springs, or other hardware — except for the hardware you’re sorting, of course. The entire machine is manually powered, so you can just grab a handful of hardware and start sorting. True, it can only sort M3 cap head bolts, but we suspect the design could be modified easily for other sizes and styles of fasteners. Check it out in action in the video below.
At this point in the tech dystopia cycle, it’s no surprise that the initial purchase price of a piece of technology is likely not the last payment you’ll make. Almost everything these days needs an ongoing subscription to do whatever you paid for it to do in the first place. It’s ridiculous, especially when all you want to do is charge your electric motorcycle with electricity you already pay for; why in the world would you need a subscription for that?
That was [Maarten]’s question when he picked up a used EVBox wall mount charger, which refused to charge his bike without signing up for a subscription. True, the subscription gave access to all kinds of gee-whiz features, none of which were necessary for the job of topping off the bike’s battery. A teardown revealed a well-built device with separate modules for mains supply and battery charging, plus a communications module with a cellular modem, obviously the bit that’s phoning home and keeping the charger from working without the subscription.
After some time going down dead ends and a futile search for documentation, [Maarten] decided to snoop into the conversation between the charger boards and the comms board, reasonably assuming that if he knew what they were talking about, he’d be able to mimic the commands that make the charger go. He managed to do exactly that, reverse engineering enough of the protocol to do a simple replay attack using a Raspberry Pi. That let him use the charger. Problem solved, right?
Not so fast — this is a “Fail of the Week,” after all. This is where [Maarten] should have called it a day, but he decided to keep poking enough to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. He discovered that the charging module’s firmware was only doing limited validation of messages coming from the comms module, and since he’d only found fourteen of the commands in the protocol, he thought he’d take advantage of the firmware’s openness to explore all 256 possible commands. Scanning through all the commands proved fatal to the charger, though, bricking the poor thing right after he’d figured everything out. Ouch!
To his credit, [Maarten] was only trying to be complete in his exploration of the protocol, and his intention to make it easier for the next hacker is laudable in the extreme. That he took it a byte too far is unfortunate, but such is the price we sometimes pay for progress. Everything he did is thoroughly documented, so if you’ve got one of these chargers you’ve got all the tools needed to make it a standalone. Just make sure you know when to stop.
We hate to admit it, but whenever we see an article about either Voyager spacecraft, our thoughts immediately turn to worst-case scenarios. One of these days, we’ll be forced to write obituaries for the plucky interstellar travelers, but today is not that day, even with news of yet another issue aboard Voyager 1 that threatens its ability to communicate with Earth.
According to NASA, the current problem began on October 16 when controllers sent a command to turn on one of the spacecraft’s heaters. Voyager 1, nearly a light-day distant from Earth, failed to respond as expected 46 hours later. After some searching, controllers picked up the spacecraft’s X-band downlink signal but at a much lower power than expected. This indicated that the spacecraft had gone into fault protection mode, likely in response to the command to turn on the heater. A day later, Voyager 1 stopped communicating altogether, suggesting that further fault protection trips disabled the powerful X-band transmitter and switched to the lower-powered S-band downlink.
This was potentially mission-ending; the S-band downlink had last been used in 1981 when the probe was still well within the confines of the solar system, and the fear was that the Deep Space Network would not be able to find the weak signal. But find it they did, and on October 22 they sent a command to confirm S-band communications. At this point, controllers can still receive engineering data and command the craft, but it remains to be seen what can be done to restore full communications. They haven’t tried to turn the X-band transmitter back on yet, wisely preferring to further evaluate what caused the fault protection error that kicked this whole thing off before committing to a step like that.
Following Voyager news these days feels a little morbid, like a death watch on an aging celebrity. Here’s hoping that this story turns out to have a happy ending and that we can push the inevitable off for another few years. While we wait, if you want to know a little more about the Voyager comms system, we’ve got a deep dive that should get you going.
It probably comes as little surprise that our planet is practically buzzing with radio waves. Most of it is of our own making, with cell phones, microwaves, WiFi, and broadcasts up and down the spectrum whizzing around all the time. But our transmissions aren’t the only RF show in town, as the Earth itself is more than capable of generating radio signals of its own, signals which you can explore with a simple sferics receiver like this one.
If you’ve never heard of sferics and other natural radio phenomena, we have a primer to get you started. Briefly, sferics, short for “atmospherics,” are RF signals in the VLF range generated by the millions of lightning discharges that strike the Earth daily. Tuning into them is a pretty simple proposition, as [DX Explorer]’s receiver demonstrates. His circuit, which is based on a design by [K8TND], is just a single JFET surrounded by a few caps and resistors, plus a simple trap to filter out the strong AM broadcast signals in his area. The output of the RF amplifier goes directly into an audio amp, which could be anything you have handy — but you risk breaking [Elliot]’s heart if you don’t use his beloved LM386.
This is definitely a “nothing fancy” build, with the RF section built ugly style on a scrap of PCB and a simple telescopic whip used for an antenna. Tuning into the Earth’s radio signals does take some care, though. Getting far away from power lines is important, to limit AC interference. [DX Explorer] also found how he held the receiver was important; unless he was touching the ground plane of the receiver, the receiver started self-oscillating. But the pips, crackles, and pings came in loud and clear on his rig; check out the video below for the VLF action.
We’ve always been fascinated by things that perform complex electronic functions merely by virtue of their shapes. Waveguides come to mind, but so do active elements like filters made from nothing but PCB traces, which is the subject of this interesting video by [FesZ].
Of course, it’s not quite that simple. A PCB is more than just copper, of course, and the properties of the substrate have to be taken into account when designing these elements. To demonstrate this, [FesZ] used an online tool to design a bandpass filter for ADSB signals. He designed two filters, one using standard FR4 substrate and the other using the more exotic PTFE.
He put both filters to the test, first on the spectrum analyzer. The center frequencies were a bit off, but he took care of that by shortening the traces slightly with a knife. The thing that really stood out to us was the difference in insertion loss between the two substrates, with the PTFE being much less lossy. The PTFE filter was also much more selective, with a tighter pass band than the FR4. PTFE was also much more thermostable than FR4, which had a larger shift in center frequency and increased loss after heating than the PTFE. [FesZ] also did a more real-world test and found that both filters did a good job damping down RF signals across the spectrum, even the tricky and pervasive FM broadcast signals that bedevil ADSB experimenters.
Although we would have liked a better explanation of design details such as via stitching and trace finish selection, we always enjoy these lessons by [FesZ]. He has a knack for explaining abstract concepts through concrete examples; anyone who can make coax stubs and cavity filters understandable has our seal of approval.
Seeing the unseen is one of the great things about using an infrared (IR) camera, and even the cheap-ish ones that plug into a smartphone can dramatically improve your hardware debugging game. But even fancy and expensive IR cameras have their limits, and may miss subtle temperature changes that indicate a problem. Luckily, there’s a trick that improves the thermal resolution of even the lowliest IR camera, and all it takes is a little tweak to the device under test and some simple math.
According to [Dmytro], “lock-in thermography” is so simple that his exploration of the topic was just a side quest in a larger project that delved into the innards of a Xinfrared Xtherm II T2S+ camera. The idea is to periodically modulate the heat produced by the device under test, typically by ramping the power supply voltage up and down. IR images are taken in synch with the modulation, with each frame having a sine and cosine scaling factor applied to each pixel. The frames are averaged together over an integration period to create both in-phase and out-of-phase images, which can reveal thermal details that were previously unseen.
With some primary literature in hand, [Dmytro] cobbled together some simple code to automate the entire lock-in process. His first test subject was a de-capped AD9042 ADC, with power to the chip modulated by a MOSFET attached to a Raspberry Pi Pico. Integrating the images over just ten seconds provided remarkably detailed images of the die of the chip, far more detailed than the live view. He also pointed the camera at the Pico itself, programmed it to blink the LED slowly, and was clearly able to see heating in the LED and onboard DC-DC converter.
The potential of lock-in thermography for die-level debugging is pretty exciting, especially given how accessible it seems to be. The process reminds us a little of other “seeing the unseeable” techniques, like those neat acoustic cameras that make diagnosing machine vibrations easier, or even measuring blood pressure by watching the subtle change in color of someone’s skin as the capillaries fill.
Problem solved? If the problem is supplying enough lithium to build batteries for all the electric vehicles that will be needed by 2030, then a new lithium deposit in Arkansas might be a resounding “Yes!” The discovery involves the Smackover Formation — and we’ll be honest here that half the reason we chose to feature this story was to be able to write “Smackover Formation” — which is a limestone aquifer covering a vast arc from the Rio Grande River in Texas through to the western tip of the Florida panhandle. Parts of the aquifer, including the bit that bulges up into southern Arkansas, bear a brine rich in lithium salts, far more so than any of the brines currently commercially exploited for lithium metal production elsewhere in the world. Given the measured concentration and estimated volume of brine in the formation, there could be between 5 million and 19 million tons of lithium in the formation; even at the lower end of the range, that’s enough to build nine times the number of EV batteries needed.
There are still a lot of unknowns, not least of which is whether any of the lithium in the brine is recoverable, and there are surely technical and regulatory hurdles aplenty. But the mere existence of a brine deposit that rich in lithium that covers such a vast area is encouraging; surely there’s somewhere within the formation where it’ll be possible to extract and concentrate the brine in an environmentally sensitive manner. And, once again just for fun, Smackover Formation.
While not ones to cheer for interstellar catastrophes, we can’t say that we haven’t been rooting for Betelgeuse to go supernova these last few years. Ever since the red supergiant star that sits on Orion’s shoulder started its peculiar dimming a while back, talk among astronomy buffs was that the activity presaged an imminent explosion of the star, one that could make Betelgeuse the brightest object in the night sky for a few months, and possibly make it visible in the daytime as well. As thrilling — and foreboding, at least by ancient astronomy standards — as that sounds, it seems as if the unusual dimming recently observed has a more prosaic explanation: a “Betelbuddy” star. According to astronomers who pored over observations, after ruling out all the other possibilities to explain the dimming, it seems like there must be a smaller star orbiting Betelgeuse that’s periodically plowing a clear spot through the cloud of dust surrounding the dying star. That would explain the periodic dimming and brightening, but why have we not seen this Betelbuddy before? It could be that the smaller star is lost in the giant’s glare, hiding in its halo of incandescent gas. So, don’t hold your breath on seeing a supernova anytime soon.
Do you find password rules annoying? We sure do, and even using a password manager with a generator that can handle all sorts of restrictions like password length and special characters, being told how to generate a password seems silly, especially since the information on what characters a valid password would have seems like valuable clues to potential crackers. But if for some reason you haven’t had enough password pestering, try out the password game. You start by entering a password — we, of course, started with correct horse battery staple — and then deal with the consequences of your obviously poor choices. You’ll be asked to do all the silly stuff that only decreases the entropy of your password, which only makes it harder to remember and easier to guess. We haven’t played it through — it’s way too annoying — but we assume that if you ever actually manage to compose a suitable password, you’ll be asked to change it every 90 days.
And finally, we’ve managed to live long enough now to have cycled completely through all the major music recording modalities except wax cylinders. Having heard them all, we’ve got to agree with the hipsters: vinyl is the best. That’s especially true after watching this fascinating look at the LP record production process, which covers everything from mastering to packaging. The painstaking steps at the beginning are perhaps the most interesting, but anyone who doesn’t appreciate the hot vinyl squeezing out from the press is a cold, heartless monster. The video is only 15 minutes long and mercifully free of narration, so enjoy.
Usually when we present a project on these pages, it’s pretty cut and dried — here’s what was done, these are the technologies used, this was the result. But sometimes we run across projects that raise far more questions than they answer, such as with this printed circuit board that’s actually printed rather than made using any of the traditional methods.
Right up front we’ll admit that this video from [Bad Obsession Motorsport] is long, and what’s more, it’s part of a lengthy series of videos that document the restoration of an Austin Mini GT-Four. We haven’t watched the entire video much less any of the others in the series, so jumping into this in the middle bears some risk. We gather that the instrument cluster in the car is in need of a tune-up, prompting our users to build a PCB to hold all the instruments and indicators. Normally that’s pretty standard stuff, but jumping to the 14:00 minute mark on the video, you’ll see that these blokes took the long way around.
Starting with a naked sheet of FR4 substrate, they drilled out all the holes needed for their PCB layout. Most of these holes were filled with rivets of various sizes, some to accept through-hole leads, others to act as vias to the other side of the board. Fine traces of solder were then applied to the FR4 using a modified CNC mill with the hot-end and extruder of a 3D printer added to the quill. Components were soldered to the board in more or less the typical fashion.
It looks like a brilliant piece of work, but it leaves us with a few questions. We wonder about the mechanics of this; how is the solder adhering to the FR4 well enough to be stable? Especially in a high-vibration environment like a car, it seems like the traces would peel right off the board. Indeed, at one point (27:40) they easily peel the traces back to solder in some SMD LEDs.
Also, how do you solder to solder? They seem to be using a low-temp solder and a higher temperature solder, and getting right in between the melting points. We’re used to seeing solder wet into the copper traces and flow until the joint is complete, but in our experience, without the capillary action of the copper, the surface tension of the molten solder would just form a big blob. They do mention a special “no-flux 96S solder” at 24:20; could that be the secret?
We love the idea of additive PCB manufacturing, and the process is very satisfying to watch. But we’re begging for more detail. Let us know what you think, and if you know anything more about this process, in the comments below.
Thanks to [dennis1a4] and about half a dozen other readers for the nearly simultaneous tips.
From the earliest days of warfare, it’s never been enough to be able to build a deadlier weapon than your enemy can. Making a sharper spear, an arrow that flies farther and straighter, or a more accurate rifle are all important, but if you can’t make a lot of those spears, arrows, or guns, their quality doesn’t matter. As the saying goes, quantity has a quality of its own.
That was the problem faced by Britain in the run-up to World War II. In the 1930s, Rolls-Royce had developed one of the finest pieces of engineering ever conceived: the Merlin engine. Planners knew they had something special in the supercharged V-12 engine, which would go on to power fighters such as the Supermarine Spitfire, and bombers like the Avro Lancaster and Hawker Hurricane. But, the engine would be needed in such numbers that an entire system would need to be built to produce enough of them to make a difference.
“Contribution to Victory,” a film that appears to date from the early 1950s, documents the expansive efforts of the Rolls-Royce corporation to ramp up Merlin engine production for World War II. Compiled from footage shot during the mid to late 1930s, the film details not just the exquisite mechanical engineering of the Merlin but how a web of enterprises was brought together under one vast, vertically integrated umbrella. Designing the engine and the infrastructure to produce it in massive numbers took place in parallel, which must have represented a huge gamble for Rolls-Royce and the Air Ministry. To manage that risk, Rolls-Royce designers made wooden scale models on the Merlin, to test fitment and look for potential interference problems before any castings were made or metal was cut. They also set up an experimental shop dedicated to looking at the processes of making each part, and how human factors could be streamlined to make it easier to manufacture the engines.
With prototype engines and processes in hand, Rolls-Royce embarked on a massive scale-up to production levels. They built huge plants in Crewe and Glasgow, hopefully as far from the Luftwaffe’s reach as possible. They also undertook a massive social engineering effort, building a network of training institutions tasked with churning out the millions of skilled workers needed. Entire towns were constructed to house the workers, and each factory had its own support services, including fire brigade and medical departments.
As fascinating as the engineering behind the engineering is, the film is still a love letter to the engine itself, of which almost 150,000 copies would eventually be manufactured. The casting processes are perhaps the most interesting, but there’s eye candy aplenty for Merlin fans at every stage of production. We were also surprised to learn that Rolls-Royce took the added step of mounting finished Merlins in the cowlings needed for the various planes they were destined for, to ensure that the engine would be properly integrated with the airframe. This must have been a huge boon to groundcrews out in the field; being able to bolt a new nose on a Spitfire and get it back in the fight with a spanking new Merlin was probably key to victory in the Battle of Britain.
For those of us devoted to keeping an older vehicle on the road, the struggle is real. We know that at some point, a part will go bad and we’ll learn that it’s no longer available from the dealer or in the aftermarket, at least at a reasonable cost. We might get lucky and find a replacement at the boneyard, but if not — well, it was nice knowing ya, faithful chariot.
It doesn’t have to be that way, though, at least if the wonky part is one of the many computer modules found in most cars made in the last few decades. Sometimes they can be repaired, as with this engine control module from a Ford F350 pickup. Admittedly, [jeffescortlx] got pretty lucky with this module, which with its trio of obviously defective electrolytics practically diagnosed itself. He also had the advantage of the module’s mid-90s technology, which still relied heavily on through-hole parts, making the repair easier.
Unfortunately, his luck stopped there, as the caps had released the schmoo and corroded quite a few traces on the PCB. Complicating the repair was the conformal coating on everything, a common problem on any electronics used in rough environments. It took a bit of probing and poking to locate all the open traces, which included a mystery trace far away from any of the leaky caps. Magnet wire was used to repair the damaged traces, the caps were replaced with new ones, and everything got a fresh coat of brush-on conformal coating.
Simple though they may be, we really enjoy these successful vehicle module repairs because they give us hope that when the day eventually comes, we’ll stand a chance of being able to perform some repair heroics. And it’s nice to know that something as simple as fixing a dead dashboard cluster can keep a car out of the crusher.
What does it take to make decent tires for your projects? According to this 3D printed tire torture test, it’s actually pretty easy — it’s more a question of how well they work when you’re done.
For the test, [Excessive Overkill] made four different sets of shoes for his RC test vehicle. First up was a plain PLA wheel with a knobby tread, followed by an exact copy printed in ABS which he intended to coat with Flex Seal — yes, that Flex Seal. The idea here was to see how well the spray-on rubber compound would improve the performance of the wheel; ABS was used in the hopes that the Flex Seal solvents would partially dissolve the plastic and form a better bond. The next test subjects were a PLA wheel with a separately printed TPU tire, and a urethane tire molded directly to a PLA rim. That last one required a pretty complicated five-piece mold and some specialized urethane resin, but the results looked fantastic.
Non-destructive tests on the tires included an assessment of static friction by measuring the torque needed to start the tire rolling against a rough surface, plus a dynamic friction test using the same setup but measuring torque against increasing motor speed. [Overkill] threw in a destructive test, too, with the test specimens grinding against a concrete block at a constant speed to see how long the tire lasted. Finally, there was a road test, with a full set of each tire mounted to an RC car and subjected to timed laps along a course with mixed surfaces.
Results were mixed, and we won’t spoil the surprise, but suffice it to say that molding your own tires might not be worth the effort, and that Flex Seal is as disappointing as any other infomercial product. We’ve seen other printed tires before, but hats off to [Excessive Overkill] for diving into the data.
In general, the simpler a thing is, the better. That doesn’t appear to apply to engines, though, at least not how we’ve been building them. Pistons, cranks, valves, and seals, all operating in a synchronized mechanical ballet to extract useful work out of some fossilized plankton.
It doesn’t have to be that way, though, if the clever engineering behind this wobbling disk air engine is any indication. [Retsetman] built the engine as a proof-of-concept, and the design seems well suited to 3D printing. The driven element of the engine is a disk attached to the equator of a sphere — think of a model of Saturn — with a shaft running through its axis. The shaft is tilted from the vertical by 20° and attached to arms at the top and bottom, forming a Z shape. The whole assembly lives inside a block with intake and exhaust ports. In operation, compressed air enters the block and pushes down on the upper surface of the disk. This rotates the disc and shaft until the disc moves above the inlet port, at which point the compressed air pushes on the underside of the disc to continue rotation.
[Resetman] went through several iterations before getting everything to work. The main problems were getting proper seals between the disc and the block, and overcoming the friction of all-plastic construction. In addition to the FDM block he also had one printed from clear resin; as you can see in the video below, this gives a nice look at the engine’s innards in motion. We’d imagine a version made from aluminum or steel would work even better.
Conectar
