Had a few hours to kill. Started looking at the rowing machine.

Already part of the rowing machine is a small LCD clock/computer. I never got it to work, for the reason that it had a few dead/decaying/leaking batteries that I was loathe to deal with. Finally getting up the nerve to replace them, I found that something had at some point gone wrong with its internals, only emitting a long, mournful, R2-D2-esque scream before turning off.

However, taking out the batteries, I realized that there were two plugs for the rowing machine: one for the batteries, and one attached to the shaft on which the seat glides. The cord is like what you'd use for a microphone jack. Thinking for a bit, if indeed the rowing machine computer had a signal going to it from the rest of the machine, it would have used this.

I start further taking things apart.

I take the time to listen to the seat as it glides. Mid-row, I notice a familiar click. It's the same click that the reed switches make on the exercise bike. I look at the underside of the seat. There's a suspicious-looking piece of black metal placed in a suspicious-looking position just below the seat. I throw a screw at it. It sticks to it. Then I immediately regret throwing a screw at a hard-to-reach magnet, and spend 20 minutes trying to dig out the screw.

I strip the wires of the original headphone-type cable. I attach it to a AA-powered LED bulb to a flashlight I got years ago. I contort my body so I can precariously attach the LED bulb to a AA-powered circuit while I slowly push the rowing machine seat down its path with my foot. In the same position I heard the reed switch clicking the bulb lights up as well.

I'm waiting for a breadboard in the mail. Once I have that, I'll have another piece of exercise equipment I can use in my system.

#1733, posted at 2011-01-08 18:32:09 in Cognitive Surplus