Radio Daze - 3
Radio is in my blood. My father was a radio amateur and his 'rig' was a Yaesu FT200. In those days, when a toll call to the UK was 430 per minute, to be able to talk around the world was amazing. Dad would let me listen, and I would tune around the bands excitedly. I never transmitted. In those days, the Radio Inspector was a figure of tyrannical fear, tough, unswerving, unforgiving like the Spanish Inquisition.
I yearned for a digital display. The FT200 has a Vernier style display and before I knew about calibration and accuracy, saw the huge apparent superiority of digital. Keep in mind, this was the early 80's. Digital clock radios and digital watches were the flavour du jour.
The FT200 had a CAL oscillator that produced a crystal based accurate frequency (50 kHz?) so that one could ensure accuracy of dial, which involved holding the knobs escutcheon still while turning the knob.
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My first 'rig' was a ZC1. If you're a new Zealand amateur, you know exactly what this is. Back then they were common as mud. Built in New Zealand during WWII in Porirua in military green, these behemoths were the launching point for many a young Ham. As it had been for my father.
These things covered a huge range. From about 2.5 MHz to about 8 MHz (well the MKII anyway.) Originally built for 12-volt use, mine had been converted to mains-power. They weighed a ton! Well not literally. Looking back, I would estimated 30-40 kg. Nearly all HAM transmissions were SSB even then, and the ZC1 could only receive AM. I had a TRF receiver that I'd build and would bring it near to use as a beat-frequency-oscillator (BFO) nd with care one could demodulate SSB audio.
Of course I was threatened with heinous punishment if I ever transmitted, which I said I would not do. As fate and destiny would have it, I had arranged for my father to give a talk to the Cashmere High School HAM radio club one week. One evening in the shed, playing with the ZC1 and not transmitting (?! umm ?!) I ended up speaking to a woman, who's callsign I recognised but didn't know why. Come the school visit, with Dad, the formidible teacher approached me and asked, "was that you or Brent on the radio?" Brent Whiteman, always my partner in crimes and I were apparently the only possible suspects