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SERVICEMAN'S LOG
Encounters with a notebook PC
Servicing is not simply a matter of fault finding.
Very often that’s the easy part; the hard part is
finding a replacement for the faulty component
or, more likely, improvising an adequate
substitute. And then there was the Colonel and
the General . . .
This story started when a customer
brought in an AST Ascen
tia 800N
486SX33 Colour Notebook computer,
plaintively complaining that, “it simply just stopped. And could you fix it
ASAP?” And he wanted a free quote.
In greater detail, the unit was about
three years old and now out of warranty. Which is fair enough but there
is still the worry about spare parts
availability. And at a practical level I
have worked on a few notebooks and
learnt there is nothing cheap or easy
about fixing them.
I asked him whether it had been
dropped or otherwise abused and he
assured me it hadn’t. I switched it
on in front of him and noticed that
various LEDs were flickering and hard
disc noises were emanating from inside, suggesting it was trying to boot.
But there was no trace of any image.
I wasn’t prepared to spend any more
free time in diagnosing this, other than
to simply guess that his colour LCD
display was U/S and would probably
be very expensive to replace.
The customer wasn’t too happy
with this but eventually agreed to pay
for an in-depth cost estimate of repair
ing the unit (say one hour’s worth at
least, anyway). But I made it clear that
this may still leave him where he was
now. He said he would chance that.
I set aside an hour that afternoon
and my first step was to connect
an external monitor to it. This was
easy enough, using the outlet socket
provided. But making the monitor
function was another matter. All I got
was a momentary flash on the screen
and nothing more.
68 Silicon Chip
Fortunately, he had brought in the
operating manual. This nominated
how to combine the Fn (function) and
Esc keys to present the video setup
menus; except that there was no way
to display these menus in order to find
out how to display them (catch 22!).
But the manual did indicate how to
toggle between the internal LCD and
an external monitor, using the Fn and
F12 keys.
I also noticed that this notebook
had no conventional brightness and
contrast controls. Changing these
functions involved operating the Fn
and arrow keys.
I switched on and tried all these
suggestions but, apart from the momentary flash on the external monitor,
nothing was happening. However, I
persevered until finally, after it had
been booting for a few minutes, the
Fn and F12 keys caused the exter
nal monitor to flash on with a useful
image.
The reason why this hadn’t happened at switch-on, I surmise, was
because the processor was initially
fully engaged with booting up and
was unable to accept commands
from the keyboard. Now I could at
least display the video setup menu
for the LCD and the CRT display and
check the computer itself, which now
booted OK.
At least I had now confirmed that
the motherboard and the other basic
hardware devices were working, narrowing the fault to the display. It was
possible that the LCD driver stages
in the video section were faulty but
this was not very likely. And that left
the LCD itself, the power supplies to
it and, possibly, the brightness and
contrast control circuits.
Getting inside
So now I had to get inside the
device. The only way to do this is to
disassemble the lid assembly which
isn’t too easy. I had to find two vital
screws and, to do so, prise off two
con
c ealed glued covers near the
hinges. Next, one has to remove the
clip-on hinge covers before – very
carefully – unclipping a plastic mask
around the edge of the upper top lid
assembly.
This all involves a high risk of
marking the soft plastic and breaking the clips. However, once inside I
could see a small PC board about 15 x
50mm which I quickly established as a
miniature switchmode power supply
for the backlight tube.
By removing three more screws,
the metalwork, plastic sleeving and
the board could be removed. The
board had two sockets on it, one at
each end. One connected a 2-pin lead
to the backlight and the other was a
4-pin input supplying power and data.
More than that I could only guess at
without acquiring a circuit and there
was little hope of that at short notice.
Examining the board, I noticed a
small 1A “Pico” fuse (these are moulded devices, similar in appearance to
a 0.5W resistor and soldered directly
into the board). It was near the input
socket, and the ohmmeter quickly
confirmed that it was open. I worked
out that pins 1 and 4 were the 12V
battery input, pin 1 being common.
Unfortunately, replacing the fuse
caused it to blow immediately though
there was no obvious short circuit.
Most probably, this was the problem
area and the easiest solution would be
to replace this board. Mrs Serviceman
was enlisted to track one down, which
she enthusiastically proceeded to do.
However, one week later and totally
dispirited with broken promises of
phone and fax backs, she finally established that this part was unavailable.
The best offer was a complete display
unit at $522.15, plus tax, plus freight
plus six weeks delivery.
I telephoned the customer with the
bad news and his response was to ask
whether I could actually repair the
board. I pointed out that the multilayered board contained several ICs, all
the components were surface mount
ed, and I couldn’t identify many of
them. And if the transformer had
shorted turns, there would be no hope.
However, I very hastily added, I
might be able to fix it. My ego was exceeded only by my stupidity. “Look”,
he said, “if you can fix it for $300, go
ahead; otherwise you can have it for
parts in lieu of service charges due so
far”. What a challenge!
Three-layer board
With a three-layer PC
board and about 20 SMDs
(surface mounted devices),
it was going to be very difficult to work out the circuit.
And there were no visual
clues to show where there
was a short circuit.
As a starting point, I
decided to connect an ammeter across the blown 1A
fuse and see what current
was actually being drawn.
This turned out, in a round
about sort of way, to be the
best thing I could have done.
Before I could even change
the range on the multimeter,
smoke appeared from under
a large 3-terminal active
power device – probably
an SCR. It was bent over
parallel to the board and
bending it upright revealed two
surface mounted transistors and two
surface mounted capacitors. And one
of each of these devices was cooked.
The overloaded transistor was
marked R25A (only just visible under
the burnt case) and the capacitor had
no markings at all. It looked like a
ceramic. I could read no short circuit
on either component, in circuit, and
as the capacitor was connected to the
transistor’s collector, I thought the best
course was to remove the capacitor
and see what happened.
Unfortunately, in the process of
desoldering it, the capacitor disintegrated, leaving a black patch under-
neath. I soldered another Pico fuse
in and switched on – not expecting
much progress. But I was delightfully
surprised to see the screen light up
and data appear.
Delirious with happiness, I cleaned
up the black spot, reassembled
everything and put it aside to test.
Everything continued to work OK
until I switched it off at the end of
the day and noticed that the screen
was still alight, although there was no
image. There was no time left to do
anything about it except disconnect
the battery.
I thought about it overnight and
concluded that the burnt transistor
must be damaged and would need to
be replaced. The next day I measured
the transistor again, in circuit, on the
x1 ohmmeter range and it read OK
(it turned out to be a PNP transistor).
them but this didn’t help with a 1994
4-digit identifier. My educated guess
was that it might be equivalent to a
Toshiba 2SA1204 using an X12B case
but in any event where would I get
one of these?
A little lateral thinking led to a
scrapped Marantz audio cassette player which used SMDs, and for which
I had an excellent service manual.
From this, I spent some time looking
for the most powerful device used in
the power supply circuits with the
same case package.
Having identified the most likely
one, I transplanted it into the power
supply and reconnected everything.
This time everything worked perfectly. All that remained was to run
Scandisk and other utilities to clean
up the hard disk.
Both the customer and I were happy with the outcome. The
ceramic capacitor would
probably have had a value
of anywhere up to .001µF
but because there was no
room over the burnt area, I
couldn’t fit a replacement.
I was not able to locate the
actual cause of the problem
as the capacitor had disintegrated on removal.
Precision walking
However, when I removed it from the
board and checked it on the x10,000
range, it measured quite leaky.
I was now faced with the problem of
finding a replacement and I couldn’t
find any mention of the R25A in any
of my equivalents books or software.
Surface mounted components are
not normally considered serviceable
and only manufacturers keep specifications. As they have been around for
approximately 10 years, the standards
for the alphanumeric characters print
ed on them have changed.
I found an early Sharp VR service
manual with a section on SMDs using
only 2-digit alphanumerics to identify
My next story is long way
from notebooks. It involves
a regular lady customer;
kindly, energetic and euphemistically described as
“stocky”. But with six offspring to control, she doesn’t
take any nonsense.
How she and the 52cm TV
set she was carrying both fitted through the door was an
exercise in precision walking – there
was barely a 1mm clearance on either
side. She plonked the set on the counter, informing us that it was dead. She
also added that if it turned out that one
of the kids had done it, she wanted
to know. This sort of lady commands
respect, if you know what I mean!
The set was an Akai CT2007A and
was made in China. It was not very
old but obviously was rarely, if ever,
switched off. The remote control
wasn’t supplied with the set but I
wasn’t going to ask any questions
about that.
The circuit of this set is similar to
so many different brands and models
December 1997 69
Serviceman’s Log – continued
that I had a pretty good idea of where
to look first. It was no real surprise to
find that C917 (100µF) on the main HT
line (115V) was about to expire and
that R918 (0.68Ω) on the 18V rail was
open circuit.
I also automatically replaced two
47µF electros (C909 & C911) in the
switchmode power supply before going for 12V zener diode ZD401 which
was shorted. It also took out the 1A
Pico fuse (F401) supplying it.
I felt fairly sure I had everything
right before switching it on – but
nothing happened. A voltage check
cleared the 115V rail but the 18V rail
was low. At that moment I didn’t put
too much significance on this, which
was a mistake. The most obvious
symptom was the failure of relay
RLY901 to activate. This switch
es
the set on and off and is driven by
transistor Q905.
Q905 is in turn driven by Q621,
then by Q605, and this is fed from
pin 15 of the CPU (IC801). I suspected
some sort of control problem from
this CPU. By using the ohmmeter on
the x1 range, with the black lead as
active, I could bias Q605 on and the
set fired up, giving a good picture but
no sound.
This last observation was the break-
through. There was loss of sound, a
low 18V rail and now another indicator: R922 was overheating. This
feeds Q905 and then pin 2 of IC201,
the TDA1904 sound output IC. All
of which threw suspicion on this IC.
Sure enough, replacing the TDA1904
not only allowed the set to switch on
correctly but also restored the sound.
I was pleased to timidly report to
the customer that the kids probably
hadn’t done anything wrong – except
perhaps watch too much TV!
The Colonel’s General
When Colonel Jones came into the
shop, mumbling about something
wrong with the General in the back
of his car, there was some confusion
at first. But I quickly realised that he
was referring to a TV set rather than
to his military superior.
Some models stand out among the
early colour TV sets sold in Australia
and General was one. General made
its reputation with cheap, reliable sets
that performed well. And the Colonel’s 1980 GC161, a 42cm portable, is
one of which I am quite fond.
The Colonel’s General was quite
dead but the Colonel assured me that
it would sometimes come on. The first
fiddly bit with all these portables is
removing and replacing the back, as
the telescopic aerials always get in
the way. There is also the problem of
aligning the chassis with the rear and
front shells and the front control knobs.
Because their reliability has kept
them in the field for so long, most of
my colleagues have acquired considerable skill and experience in dealing
with them. They know just where to
go to find the most common faults.
And the Colonel’s General provided
an opportunity to recall some of these.
The first line of attack is to solder
the dry joints on the motherboard,
particularly along the edge connectors
of the various modules and on the
horizontal drive transformer T602,
pin cushion transformer T603, and
the horizontal linearity coil L608.
Then the modules themselves need reworking, especially the power supply.
In this instance, none of this fixed
the problem but when I measured
the three power supply voltage rails,
I found that the 15V rail was down to
less than 10V. Replacing C642 (47µF
25V) fixed the problem and restored
the sound and picture.
This capacitor can also cause lack
of height, no colour and a dark picture
with low sound, depending on what
stage of failure it has reached. If the
power supply pulsates, the culprit is
invariably the X807 (CV12B) over
voltage protector and one would be
advised to replace all the electros in
Fig.1: the power supply circuit for the Akai CT2007A. Relay RLY901 is towards top right and is driven by transistor
Q905 (top righthand corner). This in turn is driven by transistors Q621 and Q605 at top left, with Q605’s base fed
from pin 15 of CPU IC601 (not shown here).
70 Silicon Chip
the power supply, espe
cially C802
(10µF).
Retrace lines and an excessively
bright picture are due to R418 going
high or the screen potentiometer itself
(VR406). No picture or a very dark
picture can be R419 going high. The
classic fault for sets near the beaches
is failure of the 22MΩ focus control
(VR201), which sometimes sounds
like a machine gun due to internal
sparking. If the horizontal output
transformer fails, it really means the
end of the set’s life because it is too expensive. The picture tube rarely fails
and most are still good 17 years later.
The only thing left with the Colonel’s General – I must stop saying
that – was the UHF tuner, which was
seized. To fix this, I removed the two
knobs and the circlip, then using pliers, cutters and CRC 2-26, carefully
removed the plastic sleeve con
trol
shaft and cleaned and lubricated it
before refitting. There is no need to
refit the circlip, as the tuning knob
will keep the whole thing in place.
A little judicial greyscale setting
completed the repair and it was back
in service and returned to the front
line with a happy Colonel Jones.
A puzzling Toshiba
And finally, a rather puzzling story
about a Toshiba 259X7M 52cm TV
set. This set has an unusual power
supply, which is designed to adapt
itself automatically to the supply voltage; approximately 240V for Europe
and Australasia, or 110V for Japan
and the Americas. More exactly, it
looks like a 110V circuit, modified to
240V by using an additional module
– U801 Power-2 Board PW6004.
But that is only general background.
The complaint was straightforward
enough; it was dead and blowing the
mains fuse. Fuse F801 was open, as
was expected, but there was more to
it than that. More to the point, I hate
blown fuses. Whenever I encounter
one, my natural reaction is to ask
why. What caused it to blow? Is the
fault still present? And, if not, is it
intermittent? And so on.
And I found a lot of “whys” in this
case. Capacitor C835 was short circuit,
as were transistors Q801 and Q802.
And C816 and C447 also needed
replacing.
That was all that was obvious but
there could still be more subtle faults
elsewhere and one needs to proceed
carefully in such cases. In place of fuse
F801 (3.15A), I substituted a 200W
240V globe and switched on. The
globe lit up very brightly, implying
that there was still a major short.
I began by disconnecting various
circuits, starting with the 145V rail via
plug M801 and fuse F802. This produced no change and it still glowed
after I removed the degaussing coils.
But was it still as bright? I couldn’t be
sure and I was thrown off the scent
further by the globe intermittently
dimming and brightening after a few
minutes. I could not find any explanation for this.
With the 200W globe still in circuit, I noticed that there were now
slight signs of a raster or picture on
the screen, which implied that the
145V and 15V rails were probably
OK. After checking the bridge rectifier
(D831-D834) for shorts, I decided to
risk trying another fuse in F801.
At switch-on, the sound and picture
were completely restored. So far, so
good but the degaussing coils were
still unconnected. I reconnected them
and – splat! – the fuse blew again.
There isn’t much that can go wrong
with degaussing coils but the thermistor network that’s used to control
the degaussing cycle can give trouble.
Basically, this network consists of
two major components; a positive
temperature coefficient thermistor in
series with the coils and a negative
temperature unit in parallel with the
coils. This arrangement may use two
separate thermistors or, more com
monly these days, a single package
containing both devices. In this case,
there was a single package designated
as a PTC/PTH dual posistor (R890).
Because it was the number one
suspect, I reefed it out, noted that
something rattled inside and tossed
it. I fitted a new one and switched
on. The fuse remained intact and after
testing it for a few days, I pronounced
it reliable enough to go back to the
customer.
But with so many faulty parts involved, the logical question is which
failed first? I can’t answer that; your
guess is as good as mine. All I know is
this: I still hate blown fuses. One can
never be sure what has blown them
and it can take a lot of effort trying to
find out, not always successfully. SC
December 1997 71
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