We used to say that fixing something was easier than bringing up a design for the first time. After all, the thing you are fixing, presumably, worked at one time or another. These days, that’s not always true as fixing modern gear can be quite a challenge. Watching [Ken’s] repair of an old 1955 Silvertone radio reminded us of a simpler time. You can watch the action on the video below.

If you’ve never had the pleasure of working on an AM radio, you should definitely try it. Some people would use an amplifier to find where the signal dies out. Others will inject a signal into the radio to find where it stops. A good strategy is to start at the volume control and decide if it is before or after that. Then split the apparently bad section roughly in half and test that portion—sort of a hardware binary search. Of course, your first step should probably be to verify power, but after that, the hunt is on.

There’s something very satisfying about taking a dead radio and then hearing it come to life on your bench. In this case, some of the problems were from a previous repair.

Troubleshooting is an art all by itself. Restoring old radios is also great fun.

We’ve seen several methods of repairing plastic gears. After all, a gear is usually the same all the way around, so it is very tempting to duplicate a good part to replace a damaged part. That’s exactly what [repairman 101] does in the video below. He uses hot glue to form a temporary mold and casts a resin replacement in place with a part of a common staple as a metal reinforcement.

The process starts with using a hobby tool to remove even more of the damaged gear, making a V-shaped slot to accept the repair. The next step is to create a mold. To do that, he takes a piece of plastic and uses hot glue to secure it near a good part of the gear. Then, he fills the area with more hot glue and carefully removes it.

He uses WD-40 as a mold release. He moves the mold to the damaged area and cuts a bit of wire to serve as a support, using a soldering iron to melt it into the gear’s body. Some resin fills the mold, and once it is cured, the gear requires a little rework, but then it seems to work fine.

We would be tempted to use some 3D printing resin with UV curing, since we have it on hand. Then again, you could easily scan the gear, repair it digitally on the computer and just print a new one. That would work, too.

We’ve seen the same process using candle wax and epoxy. If you want to see an example of just printing an entire replacement, we’ve seen that, too.

We return to [Tom Verbeure] hacking on Symmetricom GPS receivers. This time, the problem’s more complicated, but the solution remains the same – hardware hacking. If you recall, the previous frontier was active antenna voltage compatibility – now, it’s rollover. See, the GPS receiver chip has its internal rollover date set to 18th of September 2022. We’ve passed this date a while back, but the receiver’s firmware isn’t new enough to know how to handle this. What to do? Build an interposer, of course.

You can bring the module up to date by sending some extra init commands to the GPS chipset during bootup, and, firmware hacking just wasn’t the route. An RP2040 board, a custom PCB, a few semi-bespoke connectors, and a few zero-ohm resistors was all it took to make this work. From there, a MITM firmware wakes up, sends the extra commands during power-on, and passes all the other traffic right through – the system suspects nothing.

Everything is open-source, as we could expect. The problem’s been solved, and, as a bonus, this implant gives a workaround path for any future bugs we might encounter as far as GPS chipset-to-receiver comms are concerned. Now, the revived S200 serves [Tom] in his hacking journeys, and we’re reminded that interposers remain a viable way to work around firmware bugs. Also, if the firmware (or the CPU) is way too old to work with, an interposer is a great first step to removing it out of the equation completely.

The toaster is a somewhat modest appliance that is often ignored until it stops working. Many cheap examples are not made to be easily repaired, but [Kasey Hou] designed a repairable flat pack toaster.

[Hou] originally planned to design a repairable toaster to help people more easily form an emotional attachment with the device, but found the process of disassembly for existing toasters to be so painful that she wanted to go a step further. By inviting the toaster owner into the process of assembling the appliance, [Hou] reasoned people would be less likely to throw it out as well as more confident to repair it since they’d already seen its inner workings.

Under the time constraints of the project, the final toaster has a simpler mechanism for ejecting toast than most commercial models, but still manages to get the job done. It even passed the UK Portable Appliance Test! I’m not sure if she’d read the IKEA Effect before running this project, but her results with user testing also proved that people were more comfortable working on the toaster after assembling it.

It turns out that Wikipedia couldn’t tell you who invented the toaster for a while, and if you have an expensive toaster, it might still be a pain to repair.

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.

Coming straight to the point: [Ron Hinton] is significantly braver than we are. Or maybe he was just in a worse situation. His historic Acer K385s laptop suffered what we learned is called vinegar syndrome, which is a breakdown in the polarizers that make the LCD work. So he bit the bullet and decided to open up the LCD stack and replace what he could.

Nothing says “no user serviceable parts inside” quite like those foil-and-glue sealed packages, but that didn’t stop [Ron]. Razor blades, patience, and an eye ever watchful for the connectors that are seemingly everywhere, and absolutely critical, got the screen disassembled. Installation of the new polarizers was similarly fiddly.

In the end, it looks like the showstopper to getting a perfect result is that technology has moved on, and these older screens apparently used a phase correction layer between the polarizers, which might be difficult to source these days. (Anyone have more detail on that? We looked around and came up empty.)

This laptop may not be in the pantheon of holy-grail retrocomputers, but that’s exactly what makes it a good candidate for practicing such tricky repair work, and the result is a readable LCD screen on an otherwise broken old laptop, so that counts as a win in our book.

If you want to see an even more adventurous repair effort that ended in glorious failure, check out [Jan Mrázek]’s hack where he tries to convert a color LCD screen to monochrome, inclusive of scraping off the liquid crystals! You learn a lot by taking things apart, of course, but you learn even more by building it up from first principles. If you haven’t seen [Ben Krasnow]’s series on a completely DIY LCD screen, ITO-sputtering and all, then you’ve got some quality video time ahead of you.

Determining that a cable has a broken conductor is the easy part, but where exactly is the break? In a recent video, [Richard] over at the Learn Electronics Repair channel on YouTube gave two community-suggested methods a shake to track down a break in a proprietary charging cable. The first attempt was to run a mains power detector along the cable to find the spot, but he didn’t have much luck with that.

The second method involved using the capacitance of the wires, or specifically treating two wires in the cable as the electrodes of a capacitor. Since the broken conductor will be shorter, it will have less capacitance, with the ratio theoretically allowing for the location of the break in the wire to be determined.

In the charging cable a single conductor was busted, so its capacitance was compared from both sides of the break and compared to the capacitance of two intact conductors. The capacitance isn’t much, on the order of dozens to hundreds of picofarads, but it’s enough to make an educated guess of where the rough location is. In this particular case the break was determined to be near the proprietary plug, which ruled out a repair as the owner is a commercial rental shop of e-bikes.

To verify this capacitor method, [Richard] then did it again on a piece of mains wire with a deliberate cut to a conductor. This suggested that it’s not a super accurate technique as applied, but ‘good enough’. With a deeper understanding of the underlying physics it likely can be significantly more accurate, and it’s hardly the only way to find broken conductors, as commentators to the video rightly added.

Thanks to [Jim] for the tip.