Antenna Guru

RF is not 'black magic' – It's Synthesis, Optimization, Analysis and Realization.

Art·is·an … (p. 2)

So I listed my HP 8753C on Ebay®, hoping for the best and not really expecting the worst, so not ready accept whatever happened. I wrote:

 I am selling my 8753C because I want to get a bench top milling machine to build housings and antenna parts. I have an older 8753A (!)  but I only need one network analyzer, so I have decided to sell this one. Nice to have two frequency sources, but oh well. :sigh:

Everything works AFAIK *except* you cannot store calibrations and retrieve them after the machine has been turned off.  I have not had it calibrated, but it gives good results.

I *am not* selling the test set, because I only have one of those. (Tip: you can use the cheaper 75 Ohm test sets over the full frequency range in 50 Ohm Z0 by purchasing a pair of ‘min loss pads’)

I got my starting bid of $1500 right way, so I was even more hopeful that this would help me afford a way to make prototypes. I had the listing up for ten days and didn’t … get … one … other  … bid.

I lost money on the deal, but worse than that I felt that once again I was caught in the cycle of hostility that is the universe. It was a sick feeling… No matter what I tried to do, I seemed once more destined to suffer debilitating failure– economically, intellectually, emotionally, …as a man. I was this tragically weird chimera of great ideas grafted onto … I don’t know, what is an antonym for successful, fulfilled and happy?…

Call me Ishmael… The illusion of being the ‘antenna guru’ is my version of mental illness… I have been banished by technology, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time… The universe is malevolent and intends to do me harm…

Sadly, silently, I packed the network analyzer for its trip to California. As I carried the box down stairs I heard a sob. It was me. “When will I catch a break?” (I had already forgotten about the touch of the angel, perhaps, or perhaps I thought it was a random act that didn’t count.) I watched the network analyzer slip into the bottomless depths of the UPS store at 1:00 p.m. on Monday and drove home, dejected: What kind of crappy mill could I get for less than fifteen hundred dollars? Is this fun for you, God?

I was exhausted. Debi, my wife, was working. I flopped onto the couch, closed my eyes for a moment and…


…I woke up about two hours later, my computer on my lap. Out of sheer habit, I searched ‘Bridgeport’ in CL > houston craigslist > tools – all. There I read, “Bridgeport mill, everything works, $900, Conroe… I called. I drove. I saw. I purchased. The thing was filthy, piled high with decades of swarf and broken drill bits. The ways seemed tight, if un-oiled. I read the serial number, 8745, and looked it up on my smart phone. It had been made at the end of 1947, five years after Rudy’s patent was granted. It had a 115 volt motor of about the same vintage grafted onto it with a weird casting that couldn’t have been shop-made. The old man whose shop it was in also threw in a big clunky thing that looked like a lathe part grafted onto an angle plate. He had once used it to make broaches, he said. I could have it. I rigged the mill onto a rented trailer and into the corner of my garage in one piece. I spent a long day cleaning and adjusting it. I spent another $400-some-odd for tooling.

It’s a little old mill with a weird motor that was cast away by its shop owner because he had other, better equipment for his projects. But it also has the original art decco groove cast into it by Rudy, its maker. It seems to fit my heart and soul. I want to go make something…

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Crying in the Wilderness

So they said to him, “Who are you? We need an answer! What do you have to say for yourself?”

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