2026-01-09 05:00:44
If you live in snow country and own a home, you either have a snowblower or wish you did. The alternatives are either an expensive and potentially unreliable plow service, or back-breaking (and heart-attack inducing) shoveling. [RCLifeOn] was one of those people in the second category, until he decided to do something about it: electrifying a scrap snowblower with a blown engine.
The usual brushless DC motors and electronic speed controllers [RCLifeOn] has on hand to get his R/C life on with don’t quite have enough oomph to handle both functions of a snowblower. For those of you cursed to live in warmer climes, the modern snowblower is both self-propelled via its twin wheels, and generally has a two-stage powered snow-removal “blower” consisting of an auger to break up the snow and an impeller to blast it out of the machine and many meters off the driveway. On the traditional gas-powered models, these are both powered via belts off the same motor, but that wasn’t going to work.
He kept the belts, and simply used a pair of motors, each with their own ESCs that are controlled via oversized thumb wheels on the handles. The belts couple to the motors with 3D printed pulleys. Belt tension is achieved in the case of the wheels through a simple and sensible shimming arrangement. In the case of the blower motor, he uses a 3D printed adjustable mount to get the appropriate tension. To help it hold long-term (given the issues with creep in 3D prints) he’s got a bearing on a second mount opposite the motor. It holds up for his demo, which consists of clearing a driveway of 10cm of snow and then plowing through a pile larger than the mouth of the machine. In other words: it works.
The build, as unfortunately common on YouTube, is shy on specific details– but in this case that’s fine. Even if he’d open-sourced everything and posted STEP or STL files, it wouldn’t save much time since you’d pretty well have to re-engineer the build to fit your own snowblower, if you were so inclined. As with many hacks of this nature, the point of sharing it is to show how easy it is and provide the inspiration. As the cartoons used to say, “knowing is half the battle.”
If one was to re-implement this hack, we could not encourage you strongly enough to put in the standard dead-man’s switch, a feature commercial snowblowers share with things like lawnmowers. As annoying as it is to hang onto with frozen fingers, that safety feature is there for a reason.
If your driveway is short, you can save on gas and fuel costs with an extension cord. Or you could just stay inside and do the job by remote control, but that comes with its own pitfalls.
2026-01-09 03:30:45
Regardless of what your opinion is on cult-classic movies that got mixed-to-negative box office reviews when they were released, you have to admire the ones that went all out on practical effects and full-size constructions rather than CGI and scale models. Case in point the 1976 satirical comedy film The Big Bus that featured an absolutely massive articulated double-decker bus. With 32 wheels and multiple levels you’d think that a scale model would be used since most interior shots were done in the studio, but instead they built a real bus.
In this video by [Timeworn lengends] the genesis and details of the vehicle are covered. At the core of this road-worthy bus are two cabover International trucks, which were temporarily attached with a quick-release mechanism and required a second driver for the rear section who followed radio instructions for steering. In 1976 dollars, the entire bus prop cost between $250,000 and $500,000 USD to construct — making it one of the most expensive props ever made, especially considering the relatively low budget.
A fiberglass shell gave the bus its characteristic design, with the over the top ‘nuclear reactor’ propulsion befitting the comedy satire. Although the bowling alley and swimming pool were not really inside the bus, there was a functional bar installed along with the functional cockpit at the front.
Despite the movie flopping at the box office and critics being very mixed on its merits, it’s hard to deny that this bus prop is very unique and probably has a big part in why the movie has become a cult classic. As for the closest real-life equivalent, there is the articulated, double-decker Neoplan Jumbocruiser, which had its own troubled history.
2026-01-09 00:30:22
There’s an old adage in photography that the best camera in the world is the one in your hand when the shot presents itself, but there’s no doubt that a better camera makes a difference to the quality of the final image. Among decent quality cameras the Leica rangefinder models have near cult-like status, but the problem is for would-be Leica owners that they carry eye-watering prices. [Cristian Băluță] approached this problem in s special way, by crafting a Leica-style body for a Panasonic Lumix camera. Given the technology relationship between the Japanese and German companies, we can see the appeal.
While the aesthetics of a Leica are an important consideration, the ergonomics such as the position of the lens on the body dictated the design choices. He was fortunate that the internal design of the Lumix gave plenty of scope for re-arrangement of parts, given that cameras are often extremely packed internally. Some rather bold surgery to the Lumix mainboard and a set of redesigned flex PCBs result in all the parts fitting in the CNC machined case, and the resulting camera certainly looks the part.
The write-up is in part a journey through discovering the process of getting parts manufactured, but it contains a lot of impressive work. Does the performance of the final result match up to its looks? We’ll leave you to be the judge of that. Meanwhile, take a look at another Leica clone.
2026-01-08 23:00:08
No matter the item on my list of childhood occupational dreams, one constant ran throughout: I saw myself using an old-fashioned punch clock with the longish time cards and everything. I now realize that I have some trouble with the daily transitions of life. In my childish wisdom, I somehow knew that doing this one thing would be enough to signify the beginning and end of work for the day, effectively putting me in the mood, and then pulling me back out of it.
But that day never came. Well, it sort of did this year. I realized a slightly newer dream of working at a thrift store, and they use something that I feel like I see everywhere now that I’ve left the place — a system called UKG that uses mag-stripe cards to handle punches. No it was not the same as a real punch clock, not that I have experience with a one. And now I just want to use one even more, to track my Hackaday work and other projects. At the moment, I’m torn between wanting to make one that uses mag-stripe cards or something, and just buying an old punch clock from eBay.
I keep calling it a ‘punch clock’, but it has a proper name, and that is the Bundy clock. I soon began to wonder how these things could both keep exact time mechanically, but also create a literal inked stamp of said time and date. I pictured a giant date stamper, not giant in all proportions, but generally larger than your average handheld one because of all the mechanisms that surely must be inside the Bundy clock. So, how do these things work? Let’s find out.
Since the dawn of train transportation and the resulting surge of organized work during the industrial revolution, employers have had a need to track employees’ time. But it wasn’t until the late 1880s that timekeeping would become so automatic.
Willard Le Grand Bundy was a jeweler in Auburn, New York who invented a timekeeping clock in 1888. A few years later, Willard and his brother Harlow formed a company to mass-produce the clocks.
By the early 20th century, Bundy clocks were in use all over the world to monitor attendance. The Bundy Manufacturing Company grew and grew, and through a series of mergers, became part of what would become IBM. They sold the time-keeping business to Simplex in 1958.
Looking at Willard Le Grand Bundy’s original clock, which appears to be a few feet tall and demonstrates the inner workings quite beautifully through a series of glass panels, it’s no wonder that it is capable of time-stamping magic.
Part of that magic is evident in the video below. Workers file by the (more modern) time clock and operate as if on autopilot, grabbing their card from one set of pockets, inserting it willy-nilly into the machine, and then tucking it in safely on the other side until lunch. This is the part that fascinates me the most — the willy-nilly insertion part. How on Earth does the clock handle this? Let’s take a look.
Okay, first of all, you probably noticed that the video doesn’t mention Willard Le Grand Bundy at all, just some guy named Daniel M. Cooper. So what gives? Well, they both invented time-recording machines, and just a few years apart.
The main difference is that Bundy’s clock wasn’t designed around cards, but around keys. Employees carried around a metal key with a number stamped on it. When it was time clock in or out, they inserted the key, and the machine stamped the time and the key number on a paper roll. Cooper’s machine was designed around cards, which I’ll discuss next. Although the operation of Bundy’s machine fell out of fashion, the name had stuck, and Bundy clocks evolved slightly to use cards.
You would maybe think of time cards as important to the scheme, but a bit of an afterthought compared with the clock itself. That’s not at all the case with Cooper’s “Bundy”. It was designed around the card, which is a fixed size and has rows and columns corresponding to days of the week, with room for four punches per day.
Essentially, the card is mechanically indexed inside the machine. When the card is inserted in the top slot, it gets pulled straight down by gravity, and goes until it hits a fixed metal stop that defines vertical zero. No matter how haphazardly you insert the card, the Bundy clock takes card of things. Inside the slot are narrow guides that align the card and eliminate drift. Now the card is essentially locked inside a coordinate system.
So, how does it find the correct row on the card? You might think that the card moves vertically, but it’s actually the punching mechanism itself that moves up and down on a rack-and-pinion system. This movement is driven by the timekeeping gears of the clock itself, which plot the times in the correct places as though the card were a piece of graph paper.
In essence, the time of day determined the punch location on the card, which wasn’t a punch in the hole punch sense, but a two-tone ink stamp from a type of bi-color ribbon you can still get online.
There’s a date wheel that selects the row for the given day, and a time cam to select the column. The early time clocks didn’t punch automatically — the worker had to pull a lever. When they did so, the mechanism would lock onto the current time, and the clock would fire a single punch at the card at the given coordinates.
By the mid-century, time clocks had become somewhat simpler. No longer did the machine do the plotting for you. Now you put them in sideways, in the front, and use the indicator to get the punch in the right spot. It’s not hard to imagine why these gave way to more modern methods like fingerprint readers, or in my case, mag-stripe cards.
This is the type of time clock I intend to buy for myself, though I’m having trouble deciding between the manual model where you get to push a large button like this one, and the automatic version. I’d still like to build a time clock, too, for all the finesse and detail it could have by comparison. So honestly, I’ll probably end up doing both. Perhaps you’ll read about it on these pages one day.
2026-01-08 20:00:44
If you need to drive a big screen for a project, it’s fair to say your first thought isn’t going to be to use the ATtiny85. With just 512 bytes of RAM and 8 kilobytes of flash memory, the 8-bit micro seems a little cramped to drive, say, a 10″ screen. Yet that’s exactly what [ToSStudio] is doing with TinyTFT_LT7683: 1024 x 600 pixels of TFT goodness, over I2C no less.
The name kind of gives away the secret: it won’t work on just any TFT display. It’s using properties of the LT7683 display driver, though if you don’t have one of those, the RA8875 is also compatible. Those drivers can take more than just a pixel stream– a good thing, since you’d be hard pressed to get that many pixels streaming from an ATtiny. These are character/graphic display drivers, which means you can get them to draw both characters and graphics on the screen if you speak the lingo.
It’s still not blazing fast; the documentation suggests “static or moderately dynamic UIs” as the suggested use case, and a clock is of the pre-programmed examples. From that, we can surmise that you can get 1 FPS or better with this code. You’re limited both by the simple micro-controller and the bandwidth of the I2C bus, but within those limits this seems like a very powerful technique.
This isn’t the first ATtiny graphics library to blow our minds, but if you really want an impressive graphics demo from the little micro that could, you really need to race the beam.
Thanks to [Thomas Scherer] for the tip!
2026-01-08 17:00:00
How hard would it be to clone the Wii U gamepad, the quirky controller with its unique embedded screen? This is the question that [MattKC] faced as he noticed the complete lack of Wii U gamepad replacements from either Nintendo or third-parties, leading him down the rabbit hole of answering said question.
Although unloved and even despised in compared to the Nintendo Wii, the Wii U was a solid system in its own right. One of its interesting additions was the gamepad controller, whose screen games used for features like a private screen during multiplayer and 3DS-like map screens. Its main weakness is however that the Wii U gamepad was considered an irreplaceable part of the console, which is obviously not fun if your gamepad breaks and your console along with it.
The Wii U console and gamepad communicate via 5 GHz 802.11n WiFi, but in order to deter other parties from simply hopping onto the access point, Nintendo slightly obfuscated this WiFi standard. Specifically the WPA authentication was modified by a byte swap in the PTK, rendering every existing WiFi stack incompatible with the Wii U.
Knowing this, the key is to use a platform that allows one to pre-break WPA in a similar fashion, such as is possible on e.g. Linux and BSD. Along with the use of the hilariously insecure WPS that is triggered when the gamepad’s sync button is pressed, this enables one to connect a modified Linux system to a Wii U console. After this the console starts sending h.264 (AVC) encoded video to the ‘gamepad’, and a binary packet can be sent back with the controller inputs.
Suffice it to say that this finding was immediately turned into a GitHub project called Vanilla Wii U, that enables a Steam Deck to be used as a gamepad, as well as any Linux – and presumably BSD – system with a compatible WiFi adapter. This latter point is key, as the non-standard authentication method has to be bypassed in software. This means for example that an un-modded Nintendo Switch cannot be used either.
The technical challenges combined with the systems relatively low popularity explain why third-party gamepads never appeared. However, now that the Wii U is a retro console, these efforts are essential for keeping these consoles working. We’d love to see the PlayStation Portal get modded into being a Wii U gamepad, since it’s basically a more limited clone of the same concept.
