Requiem For a Tool

(a confrontation with the very real pitfalls of genuine anthropomorphization)

I agonized at length over that title.

Even I couldn’t help thinking one of its entendres was an announcement of the death of Donald Trump. Unfortunately ‘Tool’ has entered the slang lexicon as a euphemism for ‘obnoxious dickhead’ and that is truly unfortunate for us maker geeks, because anyone who makes stuff knows that it is entirely possible to befriend a tool.

But my title is entirely literal and guileless…. and sad. A tool that grew to be my friend is terminally broken and I mourn for it.

My late friend is a Philips 3244 quad-trace oscilloscope. It lived to the venerable age of 39 which is a Methuselah in technology terms.

It would serve the conceit of this article if I had named it but the plain truth is I never gave it a name. It was simply ‘the scope’; so integral to my work,  that I would no more consider naming it than I would consider naming my left eyeball.

Nameless as it was, it was most definitely my friend. It was a teacher, a partner, and adviser par excellence. It celebrated with me, supported me through some very protracted tribulations, and like the best of friends it let me know, with calm, drama-less certainty, when I had screwed-up. Also, as with any longstanding friendship, there were episodes when I doubted it,  took it for granted, castigated it, and came crawling back wracked with remorse when it proved to be true. Now that it’s broken I realize with genuine emotion that it’s placid turquoise face had become a symbol of unflappable candor. A faithful raconteur with an insatiable appetite for the truth. It was the Spock to my histrionic Kirk.

I’m a notorious tightwad and held-out for way too long about getting an oscilloscope. At first it made little difference because my early efforts were so club-footed that the detailed perspective a scope provides were over my head anyway. But as I painfully gained proficiency, more and more instances occurred wherein a scope would have saved me weeks of fumbling around in the dark. My esteemed mentor Grant Richter told me: “Doc, wading into to that circuit without a scope is like trying to land a helicopter on a boat deck with a sack tied over your head”.

I knew he was right, but even used-quality scopes sold for $250 and I just couldn’t get over spending that much for something that made no sound at all. I was an obstinate damn fool.

I gave my friend its second home. It had nobler roots than my fiasco of a workshop. I first set eyes on it on a pallet of HP oscilloscopes that had been sold to a local surplus electronics dealer. The seller was the Washington University Medical System. My friend spent the first 20 years of its career calibrating and repairing medical equipment. The scopes on the pallet had just arrived,  and the dealer , Doug, had not even unloaded them. I spotted my friend near the top of the pile and asked for a price. Doug was a little harried by other customers and shot back: ‘ a hundred bucks, cash , and you can grab two probes and a power cord out of that pouch. You’re getting’ a deal!’.

It was my first decent oscilloscope and I rushed to get it home. From there our 19 year journey started and afforded me an education of incalculable value.

Now it’s over. My yeoman comrade’s video tube has gone intermittent and the power source is beginning to fail. I have a backup, a very worthy vintage Tektronics analog scope with a rakish crack in the glass display protector. This imparts an amusing devil-may-care character.

I may grow to hold this scope in similar esteem and affection to my late friend but for now I find myself unable to move my friend to the retired-hardware boneyard and put the Tek into its place. That’s one reason I’m writing this article. I’m hoping it will help me move-on.

Thank you my friend. ‘well done, good and faithful servant’ . I will miss your ruthless practicality and I hope that you can appreciate that it is that same principle that compels me to retire you. We sure saw some wonders in our long travels together.

Last week I was in the surplus store where I found you. Doug and I are both a lot grayer now, and to my shock, he asked me out of the blue.

“Do you still have that quad Philips scope I sold you from Wash.U.”

I answered: “Yup, still in the place of honor on my bench”… and I did not lie.

Doug resumed, “Damn, those are good old scopes. That was the only quad-trace in that batch. I KNEW I was selling that scope too cheap”

I honestly teared-up.

“Sorry dude, if it’s any consolation That scope sent me back to this store more than any other thing in my workshop” and I headed for my car.

Doug sure got that right. 19 years of devotion and enlightenment for a hundred bucks is too cheap BY FAR.

Requiescat In Pace.