First Steps Into Using a Commodore 64

(written 2026 MAY 17)

Thanks to my local maker space's expanded availability, I've FINALLY fully cleaned and reassembled my Commodore 64's keyboard.

I got it as a gift from my partner, including the original (weathered) box, user guide, and power supply. The eBay listing sold it as "working" because it could power on and boot, but some random keys didn't seem to work. Also, the Euro key was (and still is) missing. While the latter wasn't a dealbreaker, I wasn't going to get far without all of the letters. What I got was a project--not a bad thing.

Some DDG searches told me that because these were random keys and not specific regions of the keyboard, it was more likely that the culprit was dirty contacts instead of a major failure on the main board. Opening the outer case, I found that the seller also probably had a cat or some furry creature skulking around the C64 long enough for hairs, dust, dander, and general nastiness to accumulate inside. At least they weren't a smoker. This lent more credence to the dirty contacts theory, which was good--I know how to clean electronics.

The part that made this whole operation needlessly difficult was the Shift Lock switch. Most of the other keys have dead-simple switches that are basically a spring holding up a long plastic stick with a bit of kinda-conductive rubber that touches the two contacts underneath when you press the key. They disassemble with a pair of pliers and some patience while prying off the keys. But Shift Lock? Under the key is a boxed-in mechanism that lets the key click into the pressed position and back out. To make this work, there's two metal wires soldered to its contacts in little plastic holes. These have to be unsoldered in order to remove the bottom from the keyboard and get at the other keys' contacts.

I had never soldered before. This is how I was going to learn. Good thing I didn't fully grasp how fragile a computer from the '80s could be, even after accidentally breaking one of the tabs on the outer shell. (My excuse is that it was already broken. In the opposite corner, one of the front supports meant to be held in place with a screw had its tip come off, so the screw couldn't hold it down anymore.)

My living space is rather compact and not well-ventilated; my partner objected to the fire hazard and to having solder fumes lingering close to where we sleep. Fine, I'll just find another place to introduce health hazards--but where? I was lucky to discover that my local library has a maker space, though at the time, their hours were very limited and generally not compatible with my day job.

My first trip there was early in the year, January or February, when I had time off work. The person supervising the space was rather bewildered to receive the two cheap but never-used soldering sets I offered as donations. (To date, I believe I'm the only person who has used them.) With the iron, I softened the solder over the contacts enough to pull out the wires with pliers. I'd actually been nervous about playing with melted metal until I tried it; it just "clicked" for me.

With the wires free, I could finally give the keycaps and springs a bath in some mild dish soap. I wanted to hold off on cleaning the board until I could clean and reassemble it in one go, but that ended up getting broken into two parts anyway. The electrical contact cleaner I picked up worked well with the microfiber cloth I stole from an old glasses case at home. I should've also cleaned the rubber pads with isopropyl alcohol, but I didn't bring any; I just rubbed the dirt off them with the cloth.

Resoldering was easy enough, though I probably didn't need to add more solder to the existing glob. It worked well enough. Thinking back, that was probably the best first-time soldering project I could've asked for: a low-precision job with room for spills if they happen.

I finally had the breadbin back together at home. A quick test of the console, and viola--all of the keys function! This was also where I found out how I was going to pay for not cleaning the rubber pads the best: some of the keys seem to require a little more pressure to actuate. I'm sure I'll get used to it, but it does mean I'll have to type like I mean it, unlike my netbook's chiclet keyboard that I can delicately tap. It's like a midpoint between that and my typewriter.

So what now?

I've got a few extra components coming in the mail: a network card that goes in the cartridge slot, a Pi1541 HAT for my Pi Zero so it can emulate a disk drive, and a power saver cord for when my original power brick inevitably tries to kill my C64 (just found out about this today haha). Putting together the Pi1541 will be its own mini-project, but probably the most useful one in terms of expanding the base C64's functionality and running games and big programs. I'll also keep working through the user manual's guide to BASIC--seriously, this thing is great so far, and I've only gotten to PRINT and simple calculations.

The eventual goal will be to get Contiki working so I can browse BBSes and Gopherspace from the C64, and to get good enough at working with the C64 that I can program games for it. The whole 8-bit space feels like another world--I've spent my whole life around computers, but I've never been as close to the metal as this, and it's small enough that I feel like I could actually grasp how it all works one day.