QUOTE (-soapy- @ Nov 27 2009, 04:48 PM)

The physical world doesn't work like that - the 5th gen micRo will be capable of what, a tenth? If the 6th gen could do 100x better again, what odds would it make? I don't need accuracy like that, and few do.
AHEM.

QUOTE (-soapy- @ Nov 27 2009, 04:48 PM)

When cutting vinyl you can care less about anything beyond a half mm!
You're not doing my signage!
QUOTE (-soapy- @ Nov 27 2009, 04:48 PM)

So would I upgrade to a micRo capable of doing 10x the accuracy? Well, would you?
Yep. 24/7/365, going on 4 years for micRo.
Tolerance is the allowable error in the system. Any machine requires some tolerance or the parts would seize and bind. This is just one factor, given in just one of the machine's many required specs and measurements.
Say we're building an engine, and some bores have a D tolerance of +/- .002". We take a couple measurements from each end with our inside gauges, and hastily note the "tolerance" is acceptable. Being amateurs and stopping there, we assemble the machine (say a 10krpm racing engine) and ok it to race. Now, anyone who has built enough high performance engines begins to appreciate the other aspects of spec, measurement and tolerance, as we must pay the foolish price(s) of our ignorance.. Each racing engine costs soapy about 70k and he's on his last one! Having limited funds (lost his ass on hedge funds during "Downturn 09") he hires BC on the cheap to be his mechanic.
BC is ok enough, but he's always late and too often mixes Rum and machines (in that order). BC was late and hungover on engine assembly day and rushed through the job, maybe forgetting some crap his grandpa might have told him, like never drink before assembly day!
BC mostly muttered that day too.
Off to the races!
Here is BC now, in the pits as soapy rounds corner 3, lap 8, in his lovely green ₤1,000,000 vintage racing Jaguar, blasting past the pit at 300 kmph.
In the split second of passage, BC studiously (for him) observes the car's apparent condition (soapy has promised a bottle of Cruzan Rum
right after the race, but only IF they won).. BC, coincidentally sober this a.m. notices a couple of things: Exhaust looked a wee bit smoky, but wasn't it always? His eyes were usually too crossed to tell. Maybe, he mused, maybe one of the Webers was set too rich...but when soapy passed there were no flames from the pipes.
Soapy's lap time was longer by 11 seconds and radar clocked soapy at 291kmph, down 10k from the last lap, but BC was pretty sure soapy was doing that thing he does when his butt itched, and that always slowed soapy down because soapy couldn't really control his head movements when he scratched that particular itch.
Moments after soapy had passed, BC noted a oily tang in the air, reminding him of the burning castor oil smell from his early MX days...weirdly made BC quite hungry, and his mind drifted to delightful thoughts of devouring an 8pc Chickn McNuggets, even though they always made him feel sick.
While rummaging about looking for a rag to wipe some weird new oily mist off of his glasses, BC inadvertently trips over a carboy of high octane methanol, causing a nasty spill of several gallons...BC is bright enough to know this is bad, but soapy rounds corner 3, lap 9 at that moment, and BC hurries to his post, his mind turning from one alcohol to another..."I'll clean it up in a minute", he thought....
BC, back on post, saw that soapy was on pole; that was good since soapy needed to win the ₤250k purse or he'd have to quit racing, in debt, like about 1/2 of the other racers had to do. Squinting, BC could tell something was a
little wrong...soapy's car would occasionally misfire, and it sounded to be running low on oil by the clicky-noises, but heck, that could be cam timing, a plug wire or pre-ignition problem...AHA, ignition timing..that must be it!! BC thought, reveling in his certain genius (despite his mother having told him once "I regret you"). Corner 3 radar showed soapy had lost another 10kph from his top speed, but BC was ON IT BABIES, dashing for the pit flag to signal the soapsters in. (BC could sometimes be surprisingly active on the rare occasions when he "knew" he was right, and this silly little problem was PRACTICALLY ALREADY FIXED...
Rushing to retrieve the pit flag from the pit floor, BC
hardly noted that the pit flag was soaking under a pool of methanol. He didn't have time for trivialities; he was here to win! At the wall, BC paused for just a moment to ponder his own motives, and was surprised to have the thought to himself "I'd do this even without the post-race bottle bonus; I'm here to win, I deserve to win...and he felt really good for a second.