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SERVICEMAN'S LOG
Hindsight is a wonderful thing
When it comes to servicing equipment, it’s
sometimes all too easy to accidentally create an
additional fault – one that often doesn’t appear
until after the job has gone back to the customer.
Such was the case with two of my stories this
month.
It is a chastening fact that despite
doing everything one can possibly
do to get something absolutely 100%
right, it lets you down at the critical
moment. A friend’s wife, Patricia, had
30 Silicon Chip
picked up what looked like a bargain
in a garage sale. It was a white Sharp
R-2A55 Carousel microwave oven
with touch controls and a cooking
sensor – all for only $70. Unfortunate-
ly – and inevitably – there turned out
to be a catch . . . it didn’t work! I was
called in to check it.
When I removed the covers it was
all too obvious that this wasn’t the bargain of the century. The whole thing
was a mass of panicking cockroaches.
Fortunately, I was able to get the whole
thing outside before too many had
fled into the workshop. There then
followed an unpleasant half hour of
spraying insecticide and cleaning up
the damage their excreta had caused.
The fuse was blown and the protection diode and capacitor were short
circuit but the death knell for the
viability of this oven was the touch
switch pad (key unit) which didn’t
work either. I discovered this only after I had to purchased the service manual ($35.50) and established which of
two connectors needed to be joined to
reset/clear the flashing display. My
reasoning was that if I could operate
the oven without the touch pad, I
could eliminate the microprocessor
as the cause of the trouble.
But the switch pad was the stumbling block; it would cost $65 and
what with all the other items, including a missing plate and display window, the estimated cost (trade) came
to a shade over $200. On this basis, the
project had to be abandoned, which
left Pat without an oven.
Luckily, I had an old but otherwise
immaculate Toshiba ER-562ETA oven,
surplus to requirements. This somewhat more modest oven hadn’t been
used for years but after checking it
out, it proved to be in good working
order. And so I offered it to Pat with
a 12-month warranty for $70 (at least
that would partly cover me for the
expenses involved in working on the
other one).
Her husband picked it up and said
he could install it and I thought no
more about it – at least not until he
casually mentioned at a social gathering a week later that when he got
it home, it didn’t work. Of course, I
was rather embarrassed about this,
especially as this was a trigger for the
other members of our group to voice
their shonky secondhand technician
stories. There was nothing for it but
to eat humble-pie until I had it back
in the workshop to investigate what
had gone wrong.
What’s cooking
As I said earlier, this was a very
simple oven consisting of a heat/defrost switch, a rotary timer and a start
button. And sure enough, everything
was dead. The cook light didn’t illu
minate when the start button was
depressed and neither did a fluorescent tube (with the end connectors
removed) or a glass of water indicate
any microwave activity.
I removed the cover and examined
it. Everything looked in order. The
fuse was OK, the oven light came
on and, with it disconnected and
the capacitor discharged, the diode
measured OK. Interestingly, the start
switch is not a simple switch; it is a
spring loaded plastic lever connected
to a lower door interlock relay and at
first, I couldn’t quite understand how
the magnetron circuit is switched on.
The fundamental circuit of a microwave oven is very simple. It consists
of a 240V power transformer which
has a filament winding and high
voltage secondaries which feed the
magnetron. The cathode is connected
to the high voltage via a capacitor
and an asymmetric rectifier diode.
The whole lot is switched fully on or
off via the timer, by applying 240V to
the primary.
From this, I not only found out how
the oven was switched on but in the
process, why it had failed. The lower
interlock lever on the oven door depresses the relay to the “on” position,
when the start lever allows it to do
so. Or that was what was supposed
to happen.
However, this oven hadn’t been
used for a very long time and the lower
Items Covered This Month
• Toshiba ER-562ETA
Microwave Oven
• Akai CT2105A TV Set
• Mitsubishi HS-M54(A) VCR
• Panasonic NV-HD100 VCR
• Akai CT-2868 TV Set
lever, which is spring-loaded, wasn’t
returning to its normal position. And it
wasn’t doing so because its lubricating
grease had hardened. A small squirt
of CRC 2-26 on its axle and a little
working back and forth restored its
function immediately.
I returned the oven and demonstrated it to Pat that same afternoon.
However, I don’t think that this is the
last of the innuendo I will cop from
my “mates”!
Blue Akai
Jim Makim is a 68-year old retiree
and a nicer man it would be hard to
find – intelligent and articulate. In his
younger days, mainly during the valve
era, Jim was an electronics engineer
and so could understand a lot about
his set and its symptoms. His Akai
CT2105A decided to go all blue and
so Jim asked me to call. He would
have delivered it himself but he was
due to have an operation shortly and
so decided against it.
It was obvious that the voltage on
the blue cathode of the CRT was low,
causing it to go blue, but was it due to
a heater cathode short or to a problem
on the video output? The easiest way
to check this was to remove the blue
drive transistor (C505, 2SC2482). If
there was no blue with no transistor
in (which was what happened) the
problem was unlikely to be heater
cathode.
Next, I swapped this transistor with
the one from the red amplifier (C503)
but no change. I then disconnected
the drive from the main board to the
blue output transistor on the CRT
socket and no blue was displayed. I
now felt sure that the problem was
not on the CRT socket but on the
motherboard, mainly the drive from
IC301 AN5601K.
Rather than take the whole set
back to the workshop, I removed the
motherboard and CRT board and took
them with me. I then checked all the
components associated with the blue
amplifier. There was a lot of silicone
rubber compound on the board which
may have corroded them but they all
measured OK.
The only thing that I couldn’t check
was IC301 on the motherboard, which
I now felt was the most likely culprit.
I ordered a new one and made another
visit when it was ready. I plugged it
all back together, fully confident that
I had fixed the problem but no such
luck.
I was mortified (again!) to find that
the fault was still there. There was
September 1999 31
Serviceman’s Log – continued
Fig.1: the CRT board circuit for the Akai CT-2105A colour TV set. The blue
drive transistor (Q505) is at extreme right, while the red transistor, Q503, is at
extreme left. The blue signal comes in on pin 3 of connector CN301. Resistor
R513 is circled in red.
nothing for it but to return to the workshop with the whole set. Fortunately,
another identical model set had just
come in for a different problem, so I
removed the CRT board and swapped
it over. This fixed the fault, restoring
the blue function completely. So what
had I overlooked?
Well, ridiculously enough, I have
had this fault before, on early Samsung
models. But because of the way I had
tackled the problem, I had forgotten
the cause. The component that was
faulty was R513, a 12kΩ 2W resistor
feeding C505’s collector from the
high-voltage rail, which had gone
very high. So when the blue transistor
was turned on, the collector voltage
dropped too low and turned the blue
gun hard on.
If I had checked the base voltage of
the blue output transistor after swapping it with the red output transistor,
I would have found it to be correct.
However, this wouldn’t have picked
up the fault in the collector circuit.
Jim was most understanding of my
faux pas.
The leftover part
I have recently taken on a young
casual assistant, Tom. He is doing
32 Silicon Chip
a technical course and is seeking
as much practical experience as he
can get. He is getting on very well
and although he has been mainly
involved with audio repairs, he also
dabbles with video equipment. In my
experience, audio technicians often
make better VCR technicians than
those with exclusive backgrounds in
television. They tend to have a better
understanding of electromechanical
interfacing.
I was out doing a service call when
Mrs Thomas brought in the family
Mitsubishi HS-M54(A) VCR with the
tape jammed inside. It was fairly urgent as Mrs Thomas needed to return
the tape to the rental store as soon as
possible to avoid late fees.
Tom obliged by removing the tape
for her but Mrs Thomas brought the
VCR back a day or two later complaining that it wouldn’t rewind.
This time the job fell to me, as Tom
was at college that day. There was a
note in Tom’s writing taped on top
of the VCR, saying that it wouldn’t
rewind, together with a piece of white
plastic that had been found inside the
machine.
I removed the covers and examined
the video deck which is a Mitsubishi
Fo chassis Series 3. There appeared to
be nothing untoward and I could see
that the main pinch roller assembly
had already been replaced. I made
sure that the shaft was well lubricated
and that all the other functions were
working.
I did notice, however, that the tape
cassette was intermittently catching
on the lefthand side as it went in and
down but I didn’t put much store on
that. The deck could fast-forward nor
mally, so why wouldn’t it rewind? The
idler looked fine and I confirmed that
it could rewind with a dummy test
cassette in the machine. The supply
reel had lots of torque, the brakes were
off and the take-up reel was free.
Yet when a proper tape was inserted, it wouldn’t rewind at all. There
was no friction worth writing about
from the opposite reel, nor was there
any along the tape path, with the tape
wrapped around the head drum. So
the problem only occurred when a real
tape was used but it worked fine with
the dummy. It had to be something to
do with friction between the cassette
and the driving wheel hub.
Why is it catching?
By this time, I was becoming infuriated with the cassette catching on the
lefthand side as it went down and so I
decided to take a closer look. The only
way to find out what was causing this
was to remove the ejector and run it in
and down by hand, so that’s what I did.
But I could find no reason at all why
the ejector should be sticking. There
was no friction that I could feel and
so, exasperated by all this, I decided
to fit the ejector back in the deck. This
isn’t nearly as easy as taking it out
and requires a bit of a deft hand and
experience to install it.
Basically, one has to angle it down
slightly at the front, to engage two
tongues with locating lugs on each
side, and then push it down and forward at the same time, using a long
thin screwdriver to locate the loading
gear into its well.
If all goes well, the ejector will line
up with the screw mounting holes
at the rear. The first time I did this, I
used a lot of force to line up the holes
and when I tried loading a cassette it
was still catching and not rewinding
as before. It still worked OK with the
dummy tape cassette, though.
By now, I was beginning to get an
idea as to what was causing this, so I
took an old tape, unscrewed the case,
removed the two spools inside and
reassembled it. When I loaded this, it
was easy to see what was happening.
The cassette went in easily but when
I looked at it from the top, I could see
that the spool wasn’t in the centre
of the hole in the cassette housing.
Instead, it was displaced towards the
rear but it could turn on engaging
rewind.
I removed the doctored cassette and
removed the ejector again. This time, I
reinstalled the ejector more carefully,
without using any force, ensuring in
the process that all four anchor points
were lined up as well as the loading
gears – as per the service manual. Now
when I put the tape cassette in, it lined
up exactly in the centre of the hole.
And that solved the problem. When
I tested it with a real cassette, I found
that it would now go in and rewind
properly. It wasn’t until Tom came
back the next day that the mystery
was completely solved; only then did I
learn that he had removed the cassette
housing to remove the faulty tape.
I tested the machine thoroughly
to make sure it wasn’t responsible
for damaging the hire tape but it
performed faultlessly through many
operations, with different tapes.
Finally, one might ask where
did the piece of white plastic come
from? Unfortunately, I haven’t a clue
– I couldn’t find any gears broken or
chipped and can only conclude that
it came from the hire tape.
The Panasonic VCR
And now for a couple of less traumatic episodes. I thought Mrs Laruso’s
VCR was going to be a doddle. She described her Panasonic NV-HD100 VCR
as having an intermittent problem in
which the mechanism would stick
between various play functions. The
common cause of this problem is the
loading motor coupling. This coupling
splits, then slips on the shaft on which
it is normally a press fit.
It was one of those busy days and
my mind was preoccupied with other
things, so I worked on it in a sort of
automaton mode. I had done a few of
these so it wasn’t difficult. It involved
completely removing and replacing
the deck and loading motor assembly
but I soon had the job completed. The
machine performed like a bought one
and I handed it back to a suitably grateful Mrs Laruso after demonstrating it
performing its tricks.
I thought nothing more of it
for a couple of weeks until Mrs
Laruso brought it back in. This
time, she was complaining that
the eject mechanism was going
back and forth and turning the
VCR off without fully accepting
the tape. She could insert the
tapes but they were spat out
again almost straight away.
This was different. In order
to accept the tape, the cassette
pushes a lever across the right
hand photocoupler and the
mech
a nism senses that it is
down when both end sensors see
light from the centre LED source.
By maintaining an even pressure with my hand, I could push
a cassette to the bottom of the
ejector assembly and get the deck
to load the tape around the head.
All play functions worked but I
noticed when the tape came to
the end that the machine did not
stop immediately, implying that
the end sensor wasn’t working.
When I rewound it to the beginning of the tape, it also didn’t
stop immediately. As it was unlikely that both end sensors were
faulty, my suspicions turned towards
the centre LED.
With the tape in fast forward, I could
cause it to stop and rewind by shining
a torch onto the left end sensor and,
similarly, stop it by shining the torch
on the right sensor.
I removed the deck once more
and checked the LED sender. It was
OK and activated a remote control
infrared tester. And by very carefully
suspending the deck upside down,
while still connected to the rest of the
VCR, I measured the voltage across the
LED – there was nothing.
With an incredible amount of
patience and a lot of time, I traced
(without a circuit) the power source
to the LED through the connectors and
onto the main PC board, until finally it
came to an unmarked surface mounted
resistor alongside a screw near the
front – and then the whole mystery
fell into place. When I repaired the
original fault, I had replaced the original Panasonic screws, including one
which has a head with a flange on it.
This screw did not belong there; the
diameter of the flange was oversized
for this location. And I had carelessly
fitted it so that it hit this resistor and
cracked it, thus breaking the voltage
supply for the LED. Fortunately, I
could read 211 on one part of the resistor, which I interpreted as 210Ω but
I measured it to be 200Ω. I fitted two
100Ω resistors and the correct screw
to get me back to where I’d been two
weeks earlier.
The moral of the story is to place
the screws into containers, so that one
reassembles them in the exact reverse
order to which they were removed.
Anyway, I wasn’t about to admit to
Mrs Laruso that my carelessness had
wiped out all the profit I had made
out of the original repair – and then
some. One just has to put it down to
experience.
The Akai TV set
Mrs Clyde’s Akai CT-2868 AT TV set
was still under warranty and because
it was 72cm set, it required a service
call. The problem was that it had a
vertical hold that wouldn’t lock – intermittently! As there is no external
vertical hold control, I was fairly sure
it was just faulty reception.
If there is serious ghosting and it
is spaced at the appropriate distance
apart, it can confuse the set so that
September 1999 33
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it doesn’t know which vertical sync
pulses to lock onto. Some earlier sets
had additional modules that could be
fitted, to help the set decide which
pulses to select.
Of course, when I arrived her set
was going fine and I confirmed that
the reception was ghost free. It was
34 Silicon Chip
only then that she told me that it
took up to a couple of hours before it
misbehaved. Why didn’t she switch
it on much earlier?
I told her there was nothing I could
do then and there but I would call back
later after my next job a few streets
away. In the meantime, I asked her
to leave the set running. Fortunately,
it was faulty when I returned but the
only clue I had was that it was probably a temperature sensitive component. But it was not a job I could do
in the home – it would have to come
back to the workshop.
When the set was finally plonked on
the bench, I tackled it with an array
of hairdryers and freezers. Gradually
I managed to isolate the problem
to several components near IC302,
especially two tantalum capacitors
C331 (pin 34) and C333 (pin 33), but
replacing these made no difference. I
also replaced electrolytic capacitors
C340 and C341 on the 12V feed (pin
29) to the IC but there was still no
difference. The preset vertical hold
(VR303), zener ZD301, capacitor
C332 and diode D306 were also all
ultimately cleared of guilt.
I was beginning to feel unhappy
about R351 (180kΩ), as it was very
sensitive to heat and cold – but that
could have been due to the frost and
moisture condensing on the outside.
First, I measured it in circuit with a
Philips PM2505 multimeter and it
read high. I then measured it again
and it checked OK. By now I was
thoroughly suspicious, so I unsoldered one leg and remeasured it more
carefully just in case diode D308 was
affecting it. When I put my prods on it,
it measured exactly 180kΩ but when
I repeated the measurement a short
time later, it read 250kΩ.
How could this be? I repeated the
procedure several times using crocodile clips (so that my fingers didn’t
affect the measurement) and amazingly it measured 180kΩ one way and
250kΩ the other way.
I won’t attempt to explain this
phenomenon but enough was enough.
I fitted a real resistor – one that measured 180kΩ both ways – and that
fixed the fault. I can only surmise the
resistor had gone high – for whatever
reason – and the heat from the iron
had made it good again but I leave all
the speculation to you, and yes, I was
SC
sober when it happened.
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