eptaz
April 13th, 2006, 02:12
My (Continuing) Excursion into the Realm of Chronographs
or, How I Learned to Love the BIG Watch
I was, and remain a definitive neophyte in the world of watch collecting. If for no other reason than the fact that too much information at once will cause my busy mind to simply shut down, my sights were narrowed to the Omega brand. Of course, it wasn't by accident that I was drawn to Omega. Like many of my obsessed cohorts, the space program spurred the interest, while the undeniable quality and classic, simple designs fueled the infatuation. Classic, simple design? Well, it started with a classic-the classic, the Speedy Pro. Then, things started to get weird.
http://homepage.mac.com/eptaz/.Pictures/watches/321/321_15.jpg
1968 Speedmaster Professional 145.012
My second chrono was a bit different, a bit bulky, and nary found on the wish list of the typical Omega-addict. It wasn't even a Speedmaster. To my own surprise, a cal. 1040 Seamster from 1972 was my next. The price was right. The seller was honest and, though I wouldn't have guessed it, this block of steel would become my daily favorite for some time. Big. Chunky. Bulletproof. These were the first words that passed through my smile as I slipped it on for the first time. I knew that Omega has proudly offered larger, stranger pieces, but I didn't expect to covet them.
http://homepage.mac.com/eptaz/.Pictures/watches/smch/smch02.jpg
1972 Seamaster Chronograph 176.007
I should add a brief comment here, about my physical stature. I'm not a big man. 5' 10", maybe 5' 10-1/2"; I topped out a decade ago, in college, at 185. My wrists, 6 3/4" on the most humid of days, seem a bit small, even on my currently 170 pound frame. A quarter pound of metal seemed a bit much, at first. I quickly got used to it.
The asymmetrical dial is typical of the rugged 1040 movement and mirrors that of the Speedmaster Mk III. A small 24 hour dial is situated under the small second hand, while the orange tipped minute register adds additional flair and better visibility to an already busy dial. Again, as with the Mark Series, the Tachymetre bezel is situated under the substantial hesalite crystal.
This blue dialed Seamaster 176.007 will never be called a "classic." Its cushion case is straight out of the 70's and isn't likely to be revived anytime soon. More popular and collectable cases of the time can be found in the Mark Series and that wonderfully bloated favorite, the Flightmaster. In the 1970's, Omega's offerings encompassed most colors of the rainbow, and some very progressive styles. Casino colored variants and complicated dials were the norm. (Perhaps, the ubiquitous Swatch watch of the 80's wasn't the pioneer of gaudy design we remember them to be). All things considered, my Seamaster is fairly tame.
So where this is going? Was the 176.007 not quite odd enough? Well, the next one would confound even I. Less than one year prior, I was attracted to the powerful complexity and wondrous precision of the mechanical chronograph. Today, I find myself sliding on a...well, what is it, exactly?
http://homepage.mac.com/eptaz/.Pictures/watches/sonic/sonic07.jpg
1973 Speedsonic Chronometer Chronograph 188.002
The first thing you notice about the Speedsonic, aside from its impressive heft and generous girth, is the gentle, very smooth sweep of the seconds hand. Unlike even the smoothest of mechanical movements, the small seconds hand, as well as the sweep chrono hand do not jump or "tick" at all. Rather, they move completely smoothly around the dial. Even the minute and hour counters move continuously, very slightly and very slowly, but very smoothly. This is a result of the rather unique electronic "tuning fork" movement. More on that, later.
There is a lot going on on the charcoal colored dial including, from what I gather, noting Don's 22nd birthday. Quite insightful, Omega. At first, the layout appears very similar to the cal. 1045. However, on the Speedsonic, the seconds dial sits atop, at the 12 position, with the minute counter at 9. Despite the glut of information, legibility is excellent. The matte subdials contrast nicely with the satin dial and, in typical Speedy fashion, white stick hands allow for easy readings at a glance.
The stainless steel case is a beautiful melding of brushed and polished surfaces on sophisticated angles. Because the movement is of a three part modular design, with the chronograph module setting on top, the crown and pushers are slightly offset, with the crown towards the bottom of the case. The back is engraved with the famous Omega seahorse and marked "Seamaster," which is fairly typical of the time. An explanation from Omega Vintage, as noted on Chuck Maddox's site is that, at the time, the Speedmaster was considered a division of the Seamaster line. I don't intend to dive with this watch.
Of course, what really makes the Speedsonic special is the movement. Licensed from Bulova in the early 1970s, the tuning fork movement represents a unique and rather revolutionary design in timekeeping. Before quartz forever changed the dynamics of the watch industry, there was another electronic watch, featuring futuristic technology and offering supreme accuracy.
So, how does it work? Hell if I know, but I bet it's pretty complicated. There's a battery and a transistor and, if my understanding is correct, a miniature harmonica really makes it work. Actually, the workings of the tuning fork movement are well beyond the scope of this little commentary (and my puny brain), but the gist of it is this. Rather than the typical balance wheel/hairspring setup used in a mechanical watch, the Speedsonic utilizes a battery-energized, tiny tuning fork (yes, just like the ones used by hamster musicians, even today) that oscillates back and forth at a frequency of 300 vibrations per second. A soothing hum can be heard, when it's held to your ear. Yeah, yeah, there's a lot more to it than that. Google it.
The Speedsonic is a beast, and an odd beast, at that. With its unique tuning fork movement and surprisingly clean layout, it's my largest and most complicated watch, to date. But, the "big watch" infection continues to grow and fester, like a wonderfully satisfying polyp, situated comfortably on my left wrist.
http://homepage.mac.com/eptaz/.Pictures/watches/other/3chronos.jpg
To be continued...
eric
or, How I Learned to Love the BIG Watch
I was, and remain a definitive neophyte in the world of watch collecting. If for no other reason than the fact that too much information at once will cause my busy mind to simply shut down, my sights were narrowed to the Omega brand. Of course, it wasn't by accident that I was drawn to Omega. Like many of my obsessed cohorts, the space program spurred the interest, while the undeniable quality and classic, simple designs fueled the infatuation. Classic, simple design? Well, it started with a classic-the classic, the Speedy Pro. Then, things started to get weird.
http://homepage.mac.com/eptaz/.Pictures/watches/321/321_15.jpg
1968 Speedmaster Professional 145.012
My second chrono was a bit different, a bit bulky, and nary found on the wish list of the typical Omega-addict. It wasn't even a Speedmaster. To my own surprise, a cal. 1040 Seamster from 1972 was my next. The price was right. The seller was honest and, though I wouldn't have guessed it, this block of steel would become my daily favorite for some time. Big. Chunky. Bulletproof. These were the first words that passed through my smile as I slipped it on for the first time. I knew that Omega has proudly offered larger, stranger pieces, but I didn't expect to covet them.
http://homepage.mac.com/eptaz/.Pictures/watches/smch/smch02.jpg
1972 Seamaster Chronograph 176.007
I should add a brief comment here, about my physical stature. I'm not a big man. 5' 10", maybe 5' 10-1/2"; I topped out a decade ago, in college, at 185. My wrists, 6 3/4" on the most humid of days, seem a bit small, even on my currently 170 pound frame. A quarter pound of metal seemed a bit much, at first. I quickly got used to it.
The asymmetrical dial is typical of the rugged 1040 movement and mirrors that of the Speedmaster Mk III. A small 24 hour dial is situated under the small second hand, while the orange tipped minute register adds additional flair and better visibility to an already busy dial. Again, as with the Mark Series, the Tachymetre bezel is situated under the substantial hesalite crystal.
This blue dialed Seamaster 176.007 will never be called a "classic." Its cushion case is straight out of the 70's and isn't likely to be revived anytime soon. More popular and collectable cases of the time can be found in the Mark Series and that wonderfully bloated favorite, the Flightmaster. In the 1970's, Omega's offerings encompassed most colors of the rainbow, and some very progressive styles. Casino colored variants and complicated dials were the norm. (Perhaps, the ubiquitous Swatch watch of the 80's wasn't the pioneer of gaudy design we remember them to be). All things considered, my Seamaster is fairly tame.
So where this is going? Was the 176.007 not quite odd enough? Well, the next one would confound even I. Less than one year prior, I was attracted to the powerful complexity and wondrous precision of the mechanical chronograph. Today, I find myself sliding on a...well, what is it, exactly?
http://homepage.mac.com/eptaz/.Pictures/watches/sonic/sonic07.jpg
1973 Speedsonic Chronometer Chronograph 188.002
The first thing you notice about the Speedsonic, aside from its impressive heft and generous girth, is the gentle, very smooth sweep of the seconds hand. Unlike even the smoothest of mechanical movements, the small seconds hand, as well as the sweep chrono hand do not jump or "tick" at all. Rather, they move completely smoothly around the dial. Even the minute and hour counters move continuously, very slightly and very slowly, but very smoothly. This is a result of the rather unique electronic "tuning fork" movement. More on that, later.
There is a lot going on on the charcoal colored dial including, from what I gather, noting Don's 22nd birthday. Quite insightful, Omega. At first, the layout appears very similar to the cal. 1045. However, on the Speedsonic, the seconds dial sits atop, at the 12 position, with the minute counter at 9. Despite the glut of information, legibility is excellent. The matte subdials contrast nicely with the satin dial and, in typical Speedy fashion, white stick hands allow for easy readings at a glance.
The stainless steel case is a beautiful melding of brushed and polished surfaces on sophisticated angles. Because the movement is of a three part modular design, with the chronograph module setting on top, the crown and pushers are slightly offset, with the crown towards the bottom of the case. The back is engraved with the famous Omega seahorse and marked "Seamaster," which is fairly typical of the time. An explanation from Omega Vintage, as noted on Chuck Maddox's site is that, at the time, the Speedmaster was considered a division of the Seamaster line. I don't intend to dive with this watch.
Of course, what really makes the Speedsonic special is the movement. Licensed from Bulova in the early 1970s, the tuning fork movement represents a unique and rather revolutionary design in timekeeping. Before quartz forever changed the dynamics of the watch industry, there was another electronic watch, featuring futuristic technology and offering supreme accuracy.
So, how does it work? Hell if I know, but I bet it's pretty complicated. There's a battery and a transistor and, if my understanding is correct, a miniature harmonica really makes it work. Actually, the workings of the tuning fork movement are well beyond the scope of this little commentary (and my puny brain), but the gist of it is this. Rather than the typical balance wheel/hairspring setup used in a mechanical watch, the Speedsonic utilizes a battery-energized, tiny tuning fork (yes, just like the ones used by hamster musicians, even today) that oscillates back and forth at a frequency of 300 vibrations per second. A soothing hum can be heard, when it's held to your ear. Yeah, yeah, there's a lot more to it than that. Google it.
The Speedsonic is a beast, and an odd beast, at that. With its unique tuning fork movement and surprisingly clean layout, it's my largest and most complicated watch, to date. But, the "big watch" infection continues to grow and fester, like a wonderfully satisfying polyp, situated comfortably on my left wrist.
http://homepage.mac.com/eptaz/.Pictures/watches/other/3chronos.jpg
To be continued...
eric