Friday 10 November 2006

How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb


When it comes to how electricity works, I used to like to think that I was pretty much with it. Then (as they say), whatever "it" was changed, and whatever it was that I was with, it wasn't "it."

So it was with a somewhat resigned air that I was expecting to have to 'buy a new one' some weeks ago, when my trusty network storage device (a Buffalo Linkstation, detail fans) had started making a sound like a box of particularly numerous and angry bees. The short term fix of banging it with increasing hardness was effective, but was rapidly becoming less so.

And so, I decided to go for broke and see if there was anything inside it that I could fix.

A first attempt at opening the unit was unsuccessful. It didn't seem to have any screws, and so at this point I stopped. But a few days later the thing was making so much noise that something had to be done. I tried again.

Some Googling revealed nothing. But some more Googling (hint: the word to use is "disassemble", not "dismantle") revealed the secrets of the hidden flanges and bits which must be prodded and pushed to cause the plastic case to spring open in delight.

I almost stopped again, having discovered that the poking of the first set of required flanges would cause some plastic movement, but not enough to cause box opening. Apparently the nice mirror bit on the front is actually a sticker, and it's covering some screws to keep that plastic bit in place. God knows why. Peeling off the sticker (at first by prising a screwdriver down the middle of it, until I realised that this was bending it up significantly) eventually revealed access to the two tiny screws which would need to be removed if the game was to continue.

These tiny screws would require watch-maker's screwdrivers to remove. In fact I have some of these.. and I did look for them, but couldn't find them. So, reasoning that any screws so tiny could not possibly be important, it was determined that levering the plastic up with a screwdriver would cause the tiny screws to fly across the room, no longer acting as a source of obstruction by conveniently becoming lost forever.

And now the front is off! More flange-prodding eventually causes the outer shell of the device to open. I pause to be impressed by the industrial amounts of dust which are inside. This is removed by several hearty blows (and doubtless plenty of spittle, which I am quite sure must be beneficial to modern electronic equipment.)

Inside this box is a hard drive, mounted and secured behinds all kinds of paraphernalia that I'm not even slightly interested in investigating, and a large circuit board which is inconsiderately blocking my access to my prime suspect, the dinky little fan at the back of the case.

More pressing and squeezing and bending reveals that this circuit board is not moving because it is screwed down. Doh! And as is the style, I do not have the right size Philips screwdrivers. However, I do have a slightly smaller one which seems to work as long as you press down really really hard. Soon, the board is loose.

Trying not to touch the somewhat lethal-looking power supply components, I eventually manage to wangle the back panel, upon which the fan is mounted, out. It's just clipped in. I examine it closely, to note down the required black magic specifications which I will doubtless need in order to obtain a replacement fan "just like this one." It looks like the connector is special, and shared with other parts of the board. I really don't fancy trying to solder it, but I'm pretty sure that I just could cut the appropriate wires and twist them together if a suitable new fan could be found. This is still within my skillset.

I measure the fan. 4 centimetres. 12 volts. 0.07A, or something, and note this down with the intention of later searching for a new one. But before then, I decide that the unit would probably run cool enough if I ran it in its unboxed state and with the fan hanging out, or disconnected somehow. So I power it up, and.. well, that fan runs pretty darned quiet. Maybe that's not the problem after all.

I remount the fan onto the plastic backpanel, noticing that it seems to wiggle around a bit. Perhaps this problem is mechanical rather than electronic. The fan is in fact just about the only thing in here which is not secured by screws - with the exception of some odd piece of clear plastic which seems to make the lights on the front panel come on.

I decide that the wiggling must stop. What is the solution.. Glue? Too drastic. I adopt a policy of 'no permanent damage' so harsh and permanent glues are not to my liking. Added to which I would probably be unable find the glue in the first place. Suddenly I remember that I have some blu-tack somewhere, and indeed when I go to look, it's just where I left it several years ago, sitting on top of the door. A little stretching and moulding soon has it back to its old self, and before long I am rolling out little sausages of blu-tack which will fit through the mounting holes on all four sides of the fan.

Some re-mounting and pressing later, and it's close enough for jazz. It still moves, but not so much, and even if it does, I put my faith in the properties of blu-tack to act as a vibration dampening mechanism.

I put things roughly back where they should be, deciding not to waste time screwing the circuit board back down as it's not like it has any room to move about in there anyway. I am not quite sure which way around this clear plastic light-panel thingummy goes, and even the "How to disassemble your Linkstation" web pages offer no clues other than to point out that I should have carefully examined the orientation of this piece before removing it. Huh. I try all four ways, none of them seems right, so I leave it a place which hopefully might be right but if not at least won't rattle around too much.

Plastic back together, slightly dinged mirrored label thing back on in front.. connected back up and powered on.. and all is quiet. Too quiet. Further diagnosis reveals that it is necessary to push the power lead all the way in before the unit can be turned on. Which I do, and the unit wakes up and makes all the correct sounds of industry. Within moments, the computer sees it and all is well.

So, the mirror effect on the front may not be quite as perfect as before, the four status lights might not be quite as working as before, and the front USB port may not be quite as un-smashed-up as before, but it is all working nicely, and not making any nasty noises.

I even ended up with four screws to spare. I am an engineer!

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