DEBRIS.COMgood for a laugh, or possibly an aneurysm

Here’s a bleak link for a dreary Monday: motorcycle tour of Chernobyl.

The tone is somber yet matter-of-fact.

Usually, on this leg of the journey, a beeping Dosimeter inspires me to shift into high gear and streak through the area with great haste. The patch of trees in front of me is called red — or “magic” wood. In 1986, this wood glowed red with radiation. They cut them down and buried them under 1 meter of earth. The Dosimeter readings on the asphalt paving is 500 -3000 microroengens, depending upon where you stand. That is 50 to 300 times the radiation of a normal environment. If I step 10 meters forward, Dosimeter will run off the scale. If I walk a few hundred meters towards the reactor, the radiation is 3 roengens per hour — which is 300,000 times normal. If I was to keep walking all the way to the reactor, I would glow in the dark tonight. Maybe this is why they call it magic wood. It is a dark magic with the power to turn biker leather into shining armor.

The accompanying photos seem random and somewhat uninteresting, but I guess this is appropriate: radiation is invisible.

Thanks to Bim for the link. (Bim’s motorcycle trip to Turkey was much less bleak!)

I shot this without looking, holding my hand out of the car window as we passed a trolley on Market Street in San Francisco. The picture appeals to me because the tilted perspective seems appropriate for this town. Also because the composition is accidental, yet turned out better than most of my photos.

A 22-year-old woman had eaten most of her lunch salad at a Red Robin in Jackson Township, Ohio, Tuesday when she put a morsel into her mouth that turned out to be the tip of a human thumb.

Here’s the best line: “The health department says the woman actually consumed part of the fingertip, thinking it was a piece of gristle.” Do salads normally have gristle? Except in Germany, I mean.

This story made the rounds a few weeks ago, but I just heard about it last weekend — over dinner, natch. I found two versions of the story online; the quotes above are from the second:

• Want a chopped thumb salad?
• Woman Finds Thumb In Salad

David Lazarus wrote a special report for the Chronicle on the risks of using “offshore” employees for processing sensitive (private) medical and financial data. He appears to have caught one of the parties in a lie. The transcription is riveting.

The story, in brief, is that a sub-sub-subcontracted medical records transcriber in Pakistan threatened to release private medical records if her past-due invoice wasn’t paid immediately. This triggered an investigation, which revealed that UCSF had contracted its records transcription out to a company called Transcription Stat, which subcontracted the transcription to an independent worker named Sonya Newburn, who subcontracted the transcription to another individual named Tom Spires, who subcontracted the transcription to the Pakistani, Lubna Baloch.

Everyone down the chain expressed shock and indignation about the threatened privacy breach. Of course they did — their reputations are on the line. The common criticism of everyone about the next person down the chain: “They’re not supposed to be subbing this out!” Heh. Watch as American industry digests its own stomach lining. People moan about exporting American jobs, but when it comes down to actually doing the work, these Americans would rather pay some poor foreign person $7/hr to do it.

Anyway, the story ends with a great caught-in-the-act phone interview between Lazarus (I assume) and one of the subcontractors. I don’t want to spoil the surprise; it’s worth the 10 minutes it will take you to read it. Here’s the full story: Outsourced UCSF notes highlight privacy risk: How one offshore worker sent tremor through medical system

This article describes the process of making long footboards for a DW 5000 series bass drum pedal.

Why would I want to make long footboards? I tried to learn a heel-toe playing technique, but my feet were the same size as my footboards. I literally couldn’t play the kick drum with my heel without turning my foot sideways. Otherwise, my toes were running into the chain and sprockets, peeling the skin off my toes. (I play without shoes.)

By the way, you can read a description of heel/toe pedal technique, or you can buy a video for $15 or you can buy a “system” for $149.

My options seemed to be:

• buy a new pedal, like the Axis Longboard, for lots of money
• make longer footboards for my current pedals
• have all my toes cut off

Some pedal manufacturers probably sell long footboards as an option. Drum Workshop is not one of them. Their “Delta” solid footboard does not relocate the hinge, so the playable area of the footboard doesn’t change. I’ve tried this. I know.

The best way to make your own long pedal footboards is to have a brother who is an expert metalworker and who has a machine shop in his garage. This is what I did, and I recommend it.

Our plan was to make a one-piece footboard, replacing the two-piece original. We planned to relocate the hinge to the back of the base plate. In the picture, you can see that this would buy us nearly three inches of playable pedal area. Also note that the stock pedal has the hinge in an “open” position, roughly 150°. Our design would require the hinge to be closed to an acute angle of about 30°.

One of the many benefits of having a metalshop in the garage is the likelihood of finding some 4-inch by quarter-inch aluminum stock in the scrap pile. This is what we did. We clamped the strip of material into the vise grip of a gargantuan saw that spat green lubricant goo all over the place, and sliced off two 13-inch lengths. When the cutting was done, the area was covered in a slurry of aluminum shards and lubricant, and the cut edges were perfectly machined… not that we wouldn’t sand and grind them on no fewer than three other hulking industrial devices over the course of the afternoon.

The stock DW footboards look undersized as compared to their replacements. We picked the new length by measuring the distance from the nose of the stock footboard (when installed) to the new hinge location. Essentially we made these boards as long as we could without welding an extension into the base plate — an option we discussed, but rejected because I didn’t want FrankenPedals. Making new footboards was as complex a modification as I was willing to pursue.

We traced various shapes on the rectangular pieces, using plastic curve templates. In the end we went with a slightly flared coffin shape, both because it was easier to cut than anything curvier, and because the fun German slang term my wife used to use when she was telling me to move my enormous shoes out of the doorway translates as “children’s coffins.” We rough-cut one side of one board on a bandsaw, then adjusted its contour on the belt sander.

Once we were satisfied with the shape, we traced it onto the other board, and then back onto the second side of the first board, after spraypainting the boards to allow us to score the line accurately. (Scraping a line into a painted surface yields a more visible and finer guide than pencil or Sharpie tracings would.) Then we went back to the bandsaw to make the cuts.

The profiles of the two footboards were nearly, but not entirely identical, given that they were cut freehand. This makes no difference to their utility, but what’s the point of all this effort if the result wouldn’t be perfect? We clamped the two boards together for final shaping. The front and back (heel and toe) edges were ground to match, as were the countours of the sides. Notches for the chain were cut into the toes of each board; we rounded the underside of each notch so the chain wouldn’t be rubbing against a sharp edge.

With the shaping complete, we prepared for the fasteners. Our plan called for relocating the hinges to the rear of the baseplate; this required us to chip dried thread sealer out of the hinges, and to drill/tap threaded holes into the baseplates. We mounted the hinges and ground down the protruding screws on the underside. Then we drilled and tapped threaded holes into the rear of the footboards. Finally, we drilled and countersunk a hole in the nose of the footboard for attaching the chain.

With all holes drilled and tapped, we reassembled the parts using the original screws. To prevent mid-song spontaneous disassembly, we applied thread sealer (red goo #262; see later picture) liberally — by which I mean, all over the screws, the tools, the hinges, and the bench. But the red stuff on my brother’s thumb isn’t 262; it’s blood: the only two guaranteed products of an day in the metal shop are dust and injuries. I mean, I nearly hurt myself, and I wasn’t even helping.

Notice how the hinge is cantilevered off the back edge of the baseplate. We had some concern that, with the hinges operating from a “closed” position, the screw heads would collide as the pedal was depressed. But this turned out not to be the case; we measured sufficient clearance without resorting to surgery on the hinge or screws.

Before attaching the footboard to the pedal, we sanded the surface smooth with progressively-finer sanding disks. We wanted a nice smooth surface, with no burrs to tear holes in my socks (or feet). We went through about five rounds of 360-grit sanding disks.

We polished the edges of the footboards on the belt sander. The grit on this belt is so fine I couldn’t detect it with my fingerstips; it felt completely smooth. But there’s no denying the spray of metal dust shooting off the edge of the board (nor the mirrored edges of the footboards).

After much sanding, and a pass with metal polish, we finished the assembly. Like everything else that comes out of my brother’s shop, the pedals are perfect — not only beautiful to look at, but great to play. I’ve had no weird squeaks or rattles. The response is solid and confident. The motion is fluid. And best of all, I’m now learning the heel-toe technique that started the whole project.