It was supposed to be a simple fix, something trivial to kick the blog off with. Re-soldering one-or-two dry joints and a bit of clean up, I figured.
![Commodore Calculator (c. Late 1970s)](http://www.neuronlight.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/calc-241x300.jpg)
I found my old Commodore calculator in one of the (many) boxes of old tech in my loft. It was given to me as a birthday present by my grandparents in July 1979, and was the first digital device I owned. I was keen to start using it again, but I seemed to recall that it had developed a problem with the display. Sure enough, powering it up revealed that the upper-right segment of the least significant digit was dead.
![That last digit should be an '8'](http://www.neuronlight.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/dead_segment-300x240.jpg)
Ok then, out with the screwdriver to see what lies within:
![Simple circuit board, coarse soldering, cat hair.](http://www.neuronlight.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/open_1-229x300.jpg)
Yes, during initial inspection I discovered several fine hairs that almost certainly originated from my long departed cat, Tom. Quite how they managed to work their way in I have no idea (one was actually under the display lens cover!)
![Tom - despite appearances to the contrary - one of the smartest cats who ever lived.](http://www.neuronlight.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/tom_in_basin-300x240.jpg)
Folding back the main (err, only) board to revealed the display, and the realisation that this wasn’t going to be the easy fixed I’d hoped, if possible at all.
![Yes - back in the 70s even simple calculators had DC input jacks!](http://www.neuronlight.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/open_2-211x300.jpg)
It occurred to me that it wasn’t going to be a simple dry-joint re-soldering job. The individual digits in the display were multiplexed, so a simple bad connection between the display and the main board would’ve manifested itself as something like either a whole digit or the same segment in all digits being dead.
![Display lens cover (just how did a cat hair work its was underneath?)](http://www.neuronlight.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/segments_lens-300x179.jpg)
Prizing off the lens cover caused my heart to sink – the digits were absolutely tiny, and were connected to the PCB by wires finer than a human (and cat) hair:
I quickly located the source of the problem – the track in the place where the dead segment was connected was very corroded:
![Corrosion - in worst place.](http://www.neuronlight.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/corrosion-300x187.jpg)
Well, using a soldering iron was totally out of the question, so I called it a day and hoped a solution would present itself. I have a rule when it comes to faulty old tech, I call it the rule of Three ‘R’s: Repair, Repurpose, or Rubbish. I’d hate to have to junk the thing for such a simple defect. There had to be a way.
The answer came to me using technique I’ve honed over many years of mental training – I give in and go and do the washing-up/re-arrange the fridge/vacuum the lounge/etc.
Electrically conductive silver paint instead of solder turned out to be the answer, there’d be no heat and I could apply it with a fine point. If you’re in the UK then Maplin sell it (http://www.maplin.co.uk/p/electrically-conductive-silver-paint-n36ba) – its the same stuff that you use to repair broken tracks in heated rear car windows.
To be honest, applying it with a cocktail stick while wearing a pair of glasses plus double jeweller’s loupes wasn’t ideal and resulted in a blob across several tracks. Once it had dried I managed to scrape away the parts of the paint that would’ve caused unwanted shorts, and by some miracle it actually worked. I think it was just as much luck as judgement, but, hey, it all counts!
![Back in business!](http://www.neuronlight.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/fixed-300x197.jpg)