Comment I repaired zillions of those monsters... (Score 5, Insightful) 173
I wonder if there is any value in the knowledge stored in the brains of us soon-to-be-geezers pinball wizards. Not only did I mis-spend my youth playing pinball machines, I worked my way through school repairing them. 200 violently moving parts + abusive players = job security.
I started working on them in 1978 when stuff like Pong and Space Invaders was high-tech. The control circuitry has changed radically over the years - from relays, solenoid steppers, and cams - to sophisticated multi-processor systems. However, the playfields are still filled with precision mechanisms that get bashed with little cannon balls.
Every machine used to come with a little kit of spare parts you could expect to break in the first week, along with a COMPLETE SET OF SCHEMATICS! Really! They were right there in the bottom of the machine. A complete 30+ page large format book of prints with long fold outs for the complex stuff. No "black box" block diagrams - every wire and resistor was shown. They expected you to repair to the component level - not just swap modules. I am getting misty eyed just thinking about how I had all the info I needed to do the job. In these "modern" times, you don't even get a clear diagram of how to hook up the power LED in your new computer case.
In my opinion, the only people truly qualified to repair pinball machines are the addicts themselves. We used to stay late after work the day a new model was delivered. We would put the first one together (these things used to come in lots of pieces and were not trivial to assemble) on our own time. 3 or 4 of us would then play the machine until dawn - stopping now and then to make tweaks. By morning we were completely fried, but had a supreme knowledge of how to tune the machine for playability. More importantly, we could kick ass in the pinball tournaments the bars would sponsor. The bucks we won would more than pay us back for the sleep we lost. Some of the customers would bitch about "professionals" playing in the tournaments, but the bar owners liked the idea of having somebody around who could unlock the machine and unstick a ball or unjam a coin slot.
smoke-filled VFW halls
quart bottles of playfield wax
a giant canvas bank bag full of rubbers
the smell of stale beer and burnt solenoid drivers
soldering iron burns
you: 685,370 everybody else: under 85,000
It was a simpler time...when carpal tunnel syndrome was just "pinball wrist"
I started working on them in 1978 when stuff like Pong and Space Invaders was high-tech. The control circuitry has changed radically over the years - from relays, solenoid steppers, and cams - to sophisticated multi-processor systems. However, the playfields are still filled with precision mechanisms that get bashed with little cannon balls.
Every machine used to come with a little kit of spare parts you could expect to break in the first week, along with a COMPLETE SET OF SCHEMATICS! Really! They were right there in the bottom of the machine. A complete 30+ page large format book of prints with long fold outs for the complex stuff. No "black box" block diagrams - every wire and resistor was shown. They expected you to repair to the component level - not just swap modules. I am getting misty eyed just thinking about how I had all the info I needed to do the job. In these "modern" times, you don't even get a clear diagram of how to hook up the power LED in your new computer case.
In my opinion, the only people truly qualified to repair pinball machines are the addicts themselves. We used to stay late after work the day a new model was delivered. We would put the first one together (these things used to come in lots of pieces and were not trivial to assemble) on our own time. 3 or 4 of us would then play the machine until dawn - stopping now and then to make tweaks. By morning we were completely fried, but had a supreme knowledge of how to tune the machine for playability. More importantly, we could kick ass in the pinball tournaments the bars would sponsor. The bucks we won would more than pay us back for the sleep we lost. Some of the customers would bitch about "professionals" playing in the tournaments, but the bar owners liked the idea of having somebody around who could unlock the machine and unstick a ball or unjam a coin slot.
smoke-filled VFW halls
quart bottles of playfield wax
a giant canvas bank bag full of rubbers
the smell of stale beer and burnt solenoid drivers
soldering iron burns
you: 685,370 everybody else: under 85,000
It was a simpler time...when carpal tunnel syndrome was just "pinball wrist"
