Archive for the 'Salvage' Category

Socket To Me

Or: All Your Base Are Belong to Edison

As I was putting up lights for the Solstice/Yule/Christmas season this year, I found that my porch light would not work right. I had unscrewed the bulb to screw in an outlet to power the porch-hung wreath, and could not make it work. I had replaced a (CFL) bulb a month earlier, and suspected that the fixture rather than the bulb was at fault. Now, I was sure of it. So I used an alternate source for the season.

P1060115But then we had a warm day in January, so I set up a ladder and took down the light. Yes, I first identified the right breaker (that took a few tries) and shut off the power.

The fixture seems to be from the 1940’s or 50’s.

IMG_0649I had put a dusk-to-dawn sensor on it in 1990. Birds had nested upon it, and insects apparently made themselves at home behind it.

So down it came, and I worked out how to disassemble it. The screws were rusty, but functional. It needed a good cleaning.

But as I took it apart, it became apparent that the problem was not the wobbly nature of the light socket, but rather that a tubular rivet in the interior of the socket had fatigued away, failed. This was the critical problem. Here you can see the two rivet positions for the Edison base shell, one without a rivet. The missing side is the one to which the neutral power line connects. So the light worked if I pushed it in to touch the rivet, and only then.


So what to do? I hate to replace something that can be fixed. Fortunately, I am a bit of a hoarder. I had saved the light fixtures from a burned out, water damaged ceiling fan a decade ago. I found this remnant and pulled out its socket. See what the rivets are supposed to look like:


The iffy news is that the wires on the “new” 1980’s socket are a bit corroded. But my experience as a tinker and my degree in electrical engineering led me to think this was not a real issue. With CFL’s and LED’s it will never be carrying as much power as it was designed to.

The good news is that the holes, indents, and threads of the 1980’s socket matched the mid-century light fixture. A perfect fit.


So the true Object at Hand is the late 1800’s designed electrical screw-socket to mount light bulbs (generically known as an Edison Base) that are still made from ceramic and brass.

Procrastinated Antenna

In 2008 we had to convert to digital television. I have avoided cable and satellite to try to reduce my temptation to watch so much TV. So when we got the converter box for our old analog set, I had to use an antenna better suited to digital. Because digital TV uses part of the old UHF band, an old UHF bow tie antenna should work. I clipped one to our old rabbit ears, and it did work.

But we gave in and got a discount flat screen TV in 2011, and I had to rearrange things to fit it somewhere. The antenna didn’t work that well right at TV level, so I put it on a paint roller extension pole and slid it up near the ceiling. This helped some. But it was unsightly.

Also, the many layers of plaster in our house, and several houses of thick brick walls between the antenna and transmitter meant unreliable digital reception. Passing trucks and SUV’s would cause regular drop-outs on several channels, and we live on a busy street.

Bow Tie Antenna

Also, Around that time, and loathe to spend a lot of money, I soldered together an HDTV antenna from wire clothes hangers and scrap wood. I had intended to put the ugly kludged HDTV antenna up in the attic above the street trouble. But at the time I didn’t have the impetus to run the wire; the bow tie still mostly worked.

Last year, I did run a salvaged length of 70 ohm coax from the attic down the pipe chase, across the basement, and back up. And there it sat, unused, because I worried about the long run and needing an amplifier at the antenna.

Until today! On impulse I finally hooked the long cable to the attic antenna to the TV. Up above the thick brick walls we get much better reception, despite the long run of cable. So today I finally acknowledge, use, and celebrate the now-rusty Object at Hand: Repurposed wire clothes hangers, roughly cut and bent,  soldered together, mounted to scrap wood, and hung from a rafter by a rusty nail.

Zero cost HDTV Antenna

If you are interested, you can Google how to make your own. Note, there is an air gap between the vertical wires that apparently cross. This is better insulation than the tape most instructables show.

Lucky Letter Opener

Today’s object gets a nod because of a recent unintended doubly-off-label usage. A few years ago I ordered some furnace igniters online. Within the package, they had included this promotional wine bottle opener, today’s Object at Hand.

Bottle Opener

Wine and furnace repair seemed an odd non-sequitur, but I found a use for it: This bottle opener has sat on my counter as a fine and efficient  letter opener for years.

But a few weeks ago, I knocked it off the counter and it stuck vertically into the wooden floor right by my foot. You can picture the sound of it quivering there. I felt lucky that it had missed my foot. The same physics of angular momentum that causes toast to land butter side down gives this device good odds of sticking the floor.

Then a few days ago, I was setting a package on the counter in the dark and I heard a “thunk,” and felt a pain in my toe. I looked down. The letter opener lay innocently on the floor next to it. There was a small red spot, growing larger, near the center front of my sock. Yeah, in the winter I wear socks in the house.

I pulled off the sock, and noticed that the blood was coming from the middle of my medial toenail. I soaked up a few minutes of bleeding with tissues, then put on a band-aid. My coagulation is good; it stopped bleeding in minutes.

Here is what it looks like a few days later; pretty neat as punctures go. Not the best of pedicures, either.

Owie toe

This reminds me, I’m due for a TDaP, or DTaP, or whatever they are calling the standard 10 year vaccination nowadays.

Paper Springs

Napkin Trash

Today’s object is one I compulsively make and leave behind in restaurants. I fold those paper napkin wrappers into these square paper springs out of old habit.

I learned how to fold these from construction paper in third or fourth grade, as a device to make greeting cards more dimensional, to elevate a cut-out shape above the field.

Tractor FeedBut it became a fidget-habit when I started working in the real world. We had dot matrix computer printers back then. They were noisy, and the folded continuous paper had to be fed from a box using perforations designed to fit tractor cogs on the printer, usually on micro-perforated separable strips. So after printing what had to be printed, we would remove that side strip with the holes.

I am a fidgetor. My hands are rarely at rest when my mind is moving. So given this bounty of paper strips, I would fold them into long paper springs and leave them everywhere.

I remember one meeting in the start-up robotics company for which I was working in the 1980’s. One of the members brought in her little girl. The wean picked up one of my foot-long springs and was happily playing with it. This was memorable to me as the first time I’d seen anyone but myself derive pleasure from my little compulsion. The mother told her that she should put “that man’s” paper down. I assured them that I was happy to let her have that one.

Three decades later, when these tractor feed strips are rare, I find myself folding napkin wrappers into these springs, and now admitting my bad habit. I secretly hope that some server or bus-person notices the odd nature of this minimalist origami as art, rather than just another piece of trash. But I am not holding my breath.

Fuzzy mice

I recall an article in Byte magazine (I think) by Jerry Pournelle (perhaps) back in the mid 1980’s about his adventure when his son lost the IBM mouse ball at the mall. Back then, there was no internet, few electronics stores, and even Computer Shopper was a thin monthly magazine with few aftermarket parts. So he finally got a replacement mouse from IBM, because no one could be found to provide a simple rubber ball of just the right size and weight.

Anyway, I thought of it when my current mouse, a 13 year old Logitech Mx510 optical mouse, lost the ability to wheel down. Back in the ball-mouse days, one had to clean the rollers regularly. But the optical mouse is nearly sealed, and has few moving parts. But Google agreed that the likely problem was dirt.  In over a decade, enough dust (crumbs, skin) did filter in through the wheel-side slots to block the sensor.

So here is today’s Object at Hand, the fuzzy internal workings of the scroll wheel.


Light passes through the spokes (when clean) and tells the processor which way and how far it turns. There are several loose parts in this assembly, and it took me a little while to get them back in the right order after I pulled the tiny carpets of fuzz from many tight internal surfaces.

But back together it went.


And back to work.


Bowled Over

A woman at a rummage sale handed me this item because she thought that I looked like I would like it. No charge. My first glance did not win me over, but as soon as it hit my hand, the feel sure did. At first touch I knew it would sound with a deep and full-bodied ring; like a bell.

So today’s Object at Hand is an aluminum bowl. I could use this Indian import to make a case for vanishing American industry, or to get into the fascinating subject of where aluminum comes from and what unexpected things it can be used for, or to get nerdy about acoustics and neurology of sound and pleasure.

But today I feel like presenting an object just because I like it for itself.

Aluminum bowl

You can see at a glance that it has thick walls, and that It suffers visually from having been used to hold wet stuff, as the interior is etched with parallel rings from the air-liquid boundary. What is not visible is the mechanical tension that it holds from being cold-pressed into shape. This tension is what gives it such a nice tone. I usually leave it on the kitchen counter because a) it looks nice enough there and b) I can strike it with a knuckle as I pass to hear it sing whenever I pass by.

Perhaps I am too easy to amuse. I do try to limit the ringing when my spouse is around, not just because it is wise to avoid annoying those who handle your food and regularly see you unconscious.

But what prompted my post today is that picked-ripe produce is now coming in from friends. On a whim, I dropped a few items into the bowl, saw the reflections, and just had to snap a picture.


And, yes, it makes the same rich sound with these items sitting on the bottom. A feast for all the senses.

Comic Coffee Kamikaze

This post relates obliquely to the comic strip FoxTrot, where one recurring theme involved the trials of the father, Roger, in obtaining his morning coffee. It embodied the idea that it is nigh impossible to perform the coffee making procedure until one has had his coffee. A quick Google Image Search will give you an idea.

Anyway, the Object at Hand today is a coffee grinder that we got at a yBurr Grinderard sale some years ago. It was actually free, because the seller sheepishly admitted that it did not work reliably. I’m up for a challenge at that price.

Once I got it home, I spent a while checking out the various likely failure places; mostly the safety interlocks that prevent it from running if everything is not in place and closed. Kind of like how we got a free microwave. One of the sensor switches fell short, so I beefed it up with a dab of epoxy. After that, the burr grinder did its duty with aplomb.

However, it had a tendency to wander on the counter top as it grinds; usually toward the edge. But after many carefully watched sessions I learned to trust that it never actually reached the edge, no matter how close it started.

Suicidal grinderUntil today. I started the grinder and blithely turned to start the kettle.

“Whirrrr…Thump! Crack! Swish!”

You may note in the upper picture that the grounds cup already had several cracks in it. Those are from earlier events of just dropping the cup itself, and have been repaired. This time the cup survived, as did the mechanism. But my coffee was everywhere! And I had to clean it up before I could make the coffee I needed to be alert enough to clean it up.

My finely honed forensic senses told me that the rubber feet were dusty, allowing the device to wander over the precipice instead of bogging down at the subtle rise of the edge.

So now I check to see that the feet are clean, as well as that the dial is set correctly, and that there is coffee in the feeder before I push the button.

Maybe the comic Too Much Coffee Man is more to the point.