Silent 64C - an idiots tale

Yes, I know-- I know what you're thinking: "*I* would never have fallen
into such a trap. My wisdom would have seen straight to the answer
right away!" Well, perhaps you are right, but for other mere mortals
like myself, the full story might be instructive...

It started with Hovver Bovver. A fun little game I go back to from
time to time on a bright shiny Commodore 64C that sits in the middle of
my lab. Anticipation of another session with borrowed mowers and
yapping dogs led me back to that comfortable seat in front of that
little white computer last night. Of course, I had to re-plug all of
its cables in. I had been testing some other systems on its monitor
and power supply some time back, and left it in a disconnected state,
but that took only a moment.

Everything re-attached, I eagerly flipped the power switch and waited
what seemed like an eternity (3 seconds?) for that happy blue screen to
pop-up. Once again my computer dutifully reported that it was READY!
For fun, for work, for whatever -- it was READY! A few keystokes later
and after enduring the patience only Commodore serial can teach, the
game came up -- in silence. Dead Silence.

Now, those of you who've played Hovver Bovver know how distressing this
was. The wonderful music is part of the whole experience, and nearly
half the fun.

A quiet 64C is not to be tolerated, so I went RIGHT to work. "It's
this damned monitor!" I thought. Luckily, a brown breadbox 64 was
sitting right next door, so I gave it my 64Cs monitor plug and powered
it up. A little typing later told me that, no, the monitor is quite
fine, as is its cable.

"Oh no! It's the SID 8580!" This thought distressed me greatly. Those
chips are damn RARE, and even though I pride myself on replacement
parts, I knew I had very very few. However, that IS what they are
there for, however few they may be. So the pretty white computer came
off its desk and onto the work table. Off came that shiny case! Out
came the keyboard! Every so g-e-n-t-l-y came that flimsy metal shield
protected the 64Cs E-board from interference, and providing the
necessary heat dissipation. Then POP went the 8580, which I carefully
and gingerly set aside, showing reverence even in its betrayal. Out of
my chip supply came the spare, which was carefully put in place. Is it
pointing the right way? Yes! No pins were bent were they? No.. Are we
ready to play now? I hope so.

SILENCE! That little lawn mower pilfering *** rummaging through
his friends garages in complete silence drove me bonkers! Argh!!!!

"Ok, it's not the SID. I know! It's a cold solder joint under the
audio/video plug! I must have finally cracked it during all that
pulling and pushing of the cables!" So out came the board again, and
under bright lights and magnification, the board was carefully
inspected. Friends, fellow commie-fans, you never saw a finer example
of Canadian workmanship in your life. Every pin in that darn thing was
beautifully secured with conductive precision.

"I give up! Time to replace the board! I've got some spare 64Cs in
that shed with all the leftovers from the 2002 fiasco. I'll find one
of those working, and replace my white and shiny case with its
innards." And so out to the shed I went. One after another, ratty
nasty dirty ugly 64Cs made the trip from my Commodore graveyard to the
shrine of all things good. In went the plugs -- I would have to clean
them all later for having to touch such misbegotten beasts. And then
power on. Nothing. Black screens. Death. Oh well, I knew this might
happen. So off to the get next one I would go, but not before I popped
the cracked and dirtied cases with missing keys to see what might be
left inside. Heck! Not even an "E" board! Old breadbox motherboards
hidden inside 64C cases, ah well -- wouldn't have been good enough
anyway I guess. So off to the next one. SAME result. Black screens,
breadbox motherboards, power light on, but nobody's home. Very quickly
I ran out of 64Cs to try, and I dispaired.

That's when it happened, gentle reader. That's when the light bulb
which I'm sure most of you had alight in your own minds finally went
off in mine. "Isn't there something unique about the 8580? Isn't it a
9V chip? Perhaps this is a power issue after all." So with the speed
that only proximity can make possible, I turned around and squinted at
my power supply. Not your normal 64C power supply mind you -- one of
those enhanced boxes that came with the 1764 REU, which looks a lot
like a C128 supply.

I grabbed my multitester in one hand, and the computer-plug of the
power supply in the other and readied myself to test. "What's this?!"
A quick look at the pins of the power supply plug told me something was
wrong. "THREE pins? I thought there were FOUR?" Well, it didn't take
me long to figure out my assumption was correct, and then the whole
mystery unraveled before my eyes. You see, my friends, the missing
power supply pin had BROKEN OFF inside the socket of my shiny 64C. The
power supply was no longer delivering voltage that made the sound in my
64C happen, and which was apparantly necessary to make ANYTHING happen
in a breadbox board. All those ratty boards worked after all, as did
the SID 8580 I had cast so many dispursions on before. It was a simple
matter of providing the proper voltage.

Hours and hours and hours that would have been better spent mowing.
Gone. I'm such an idiot.

- Bo

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