LEGO Technic: Where My Engineering Journey Began

Looking back, LEGO Technic wasn’t just a toy—it was where my interest in engineering really started.

Growing up in the late 70s and early 80s, it introduced me to gears, mechanisms, and the satisfaction of building something that actually worked.

Discovering LEGO Technic

Like many children, I started my LEGO journey with the classic sets, constructing buildings and vehicles from a mishmash of colorful bricks. But it was when I reached double digits that my fascination with LEGO took a new turn—enter LEGO Technic. This advanced LEGO system introduced me to a world of gears, suspension, rivets, and axles, paving the way for countless hours of building mechanical marvels.

My initial foray into LEGO Technic was marked by two special Christmas presents. The first was a small go-kart set that could be transformed into two distinct vehicles. It was a taste of the versatility and ingenuity that LEGO Technic offered. The second was a red tractor with massive wheels and a functioning Power Take Off (PTO). As I delved into the world of LEGO Technic, my imagination soared, and the possibilities seemed limitless.

With each passing year, LEGO released new catalogs, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the the one I really wanted—the LEGO Technic car chassis 8860. This kit was the epitome of engineering brilliance. It featured a working engine, gearbox, differential, steering mechanism, and even independent rear suspension. It became the ultimate must-have for any LEGO Technic enthusiast, igniting my desire to create intricate mechanical structures.

Learning How Things Work

LEGO Technic became my teacher, offering valuable lessons in construction and visualization. I began to understand the fundamentals of gears, learning how the combination of small and large cogs could alter speed and torque. Building and experimenting with various mechanisms fostered a deep appreciation for the intricate workings of machines. Little did I know then that my childhood LEGO sets were quietly shaping my future as an engineer.

It wasn’t just about building models—it was about understanding how things worked and why.

Then vs Now: LEGO Has Changed

As time passed, I observed the evolution of LEGO Technic. The kits became increasingly intricate, featuring specialized parts designed for specific purposes. While these modern sets are undeniably impressive, they often follow predetermined instructions and leave little room for open-ended creativity. Assembling a modern kit can feel like solving a Tetris puzzle, with pieces meticulously designed using CAD and simulations. Once assembled, the kits are often admired as intended, leaving little incentive to disassemble and build something entirely new—a far cry from the limitless exploration of my childhood LEGO Technic.

Modern kits are impressive, but they often feel more like assembling a finished design than exploring how things work. The creativity and experimentation that came naturally with older sets feels less central.

What It Taught Me

Looking back, LEGO Technic taught me more than I realised at the time. It built the foundation for how I think about systems today—breaking problems down, understanding how parts connect, and keeping things as simple as possible.

That way of thinking still shows up in the work I do now.

Conclusion

LEGO Technic holds a special place in my heart as the catalyst that fueled my passion for engineering. Those seemingly simple interlocking bricks laid the foundation for a lifelong fascination with mechanical devices. While modern LEGO Technic sets offer remarkable complexity, there is something nostalgic about the simplicity and versatility of the kits from my childhood. As I gaze upon my well-worn LEGO collection, I am reminded of the countless shapes and forms it has taken over the years—a testament to the enduring power of LEGO and the impact it had on my journey to becoming an

Simple building blocks—whether physical or digital—often lead to the best systems.

I spend a lot of time helping simplify systems and make them easier to understand and maintain.

You can take a look at my TechFix service if that resonates.

Why Modern Cars Are Overcomplicated (And Less Reliable Because of It)

If you’ve driven both older and newer cars, you’ll probably recognise how much more complex modern vehicles have become.

Some of that technology improves safety and comfort—but a lot of it adds complexity without clear value.

Modern cars are packed with technology. Some of it improves safety and comfort—but a lot of it adds complexity without clear value.

From experience, that extra complexity often leads to more faults, higher costs, and a worse overall driving experience.

The Problem: More Tech, More Failure Points

One of the most significant downsides of the excessive technology in modern cars is the impact on their reliability. The more complex the systems, the more chances there are for malfunctions and failures. Unlike the simpler vehicles of the past, modern cars are now filled with numerous electronic components that can go awry, leaving us stranded and frustrated. As we'll soon discover, the irony lies in the fact that these intricate systems are often unnecessary and contribute to skyrocketing repair costs.

When Features Get in the Way

Lane assist works well on motorways—but on rural roads it often fights the driver. Instead of helping, it becomes something you have to manage. The constant intervention and alarms can be more of a nuisance than a help, forcing us to fight against the system just to maintain control. Shouldn't driving be an experience where we retain command over our vehicle's movements?

Another example of unnecessary technology is the electronic handbrake, a feature that replaces the traditional manual lever. Sure, it may seem convenient, but at what cost? These systems add complexity and increase the likelihood of malfunctions. Furthermore, they require specialized maintenance and repairs, leading to inflated expenses when something goes wrong. Is the slight convenience really worth the potential headaches and expenses?

When Even Basic Things Break

A Comedy of Errors: Personal experiences highlight the unreliability of certain advanced features. Take, for instance, the automatic wipers that activate randomly even when turned off. Imagine driving under the scorching sun, only to have your wipers unexpectedly swipe across your windshield. Such persistent faults not only diminish the driving experience but also reflect poorly on the overall quality of the vehicle. If even the basic features cannot be relied upon, what does it say about the car as a whole?

The Bigger Pattern: Over-Engineering

Massive SUVs have also become a symbol of excess and unnecessary opulence. With their imposing presence, oversized wheels, and extravagant price tags, these vehicles are often seen as an embodiment of conspicuous consumption. They not only consume vast amounts of resources during production but also have a greater impact on the environment due to their weight and fuel consumption. Are these behemoths truly necessary, or do they merely serve to stroke our egos?

What Actually Works: Simplicity

In contrast to the trend of overcomplicated modern cars, there is a growing appreciation for simpler, more reliable vehicles of the past. 

Older cars weren’t perfect, but they were predictable. You could understand them, fix them, and rely on them.

Many yearn for the days when cars were less burdened by unnecessary technology and more focused on the essentials. Classic models, like the old Defender, exemplify the timeless charm and dependability that seem lacking in their modern counterparts. Perhaps it's time we reevaluate our priorities and consider what truly matters in a car.

Every extra system is another thing that can fail—and another thing that needs diagnosing and fixing.

What This Means

The issue here isn’t technology—it’s unnecessary complexity.

Adding more features often feels like progress, but it usually increases cost, reduces reliability, and makes systems harder to manage.

In practice, that means valuing simplicity, understanding how things work, and questioning whether a feature actually adds value.

Overcomplicated systems aren’t limited to cars—they show up in websites, forms, and everyday tech too.

I spend a lot of time simplifying systems and fixing things that have become harder than they should be.

You can take a look at my TechFix service if that sounds familiar.

Ghetto Blasters: When Music Was Physical, Shared, and Loud

If you grew up in the 80s, you’ll probably remember the presence of a ghetto blaster—big, loud, and impossible to ignore.

For me, it wasn’t just about music. It was about ownership, sharing, and the experience of physically interacting with sound.

In the 1980s, the streets were filled with a rhythmic pulse and a distinctive sight—ghetto blasters. These portable sound systems captured the imagination and became a defining part of the era.

My First Ghetto Blaster

When I think back to my childhood in the mid-1980s, one Christmas stands out—the year I received a Philips D-8334 Super Tandem. Twin cassette decks, built-in radio, mains or battery powered—it felt like the ultimate device. I remember slinging it over my shoulder and taking my music everywhere.

Upgrading and Chasing Better Sound

Later I upgraded to a JVC PC-70. It dropped to a single cassette deck but added auto-reverse, track search, detachable speakers, and even a 5-band equaliser. At the time, it felt like a huge step forward.

Why They Were So Compelling

What made these systems interesting wasn’t just the sound—it was the features. Auto-reverse, track search, comparing wattage with friends. It became a shared experience.

The Lost Art of Physical Sharing

It wasn’t just about listening to music—it was about copying it, sharing it, and discovering it together. Recording tapes, swapping music, comparing systems—it created connection.

What Changed

Music today is more accessible than ever, but it’s also more individual. The physical act of sharing—copying tapes, listening together—has largely disappeared.

Looking back, this wasn’t just about music or the devices. It was about how we interacted with technology—hands-on, shared, and easy to understand.

That way of interacting with systems has largely been replaced by convenience and abstraction.

What This Means

The shift to digital didn’t just change how we listen to music—it changed how we interact with it.

Physical systems encouraged sharing, experimentation, and understanding. Modern systems prioritise convenience, but often at the cost of connection and engagement.

In practice, that’s a reminder that easier isn’t always better—and that the way we interact with technology shapes the experience.

Simple, hands-on systems often create better experiences than complex, abstract ones.

I spend a lot of time helping simplify technology and make it easier to understand and work with.

You can take a look at my TechFix service if that resonates.

How Being a Visual Thinker Shaped How I Solve Problems

If you’ve ever felt like you think differently from the people around you, you’re probably right.

For me, that difference turned out to be visual thinking—understanding the world through pictures, systems, and connections rather than words.

For the longest time, I couldn't put my finger on why I struggled with traditional methods of learning, particularly in language-based subjects.

This discovery was like a lightbulb moment, helping explain why I found some things difficult while others came naturally.

The Problem: Traditional Learning Didn’t Fit

Throughout my academic journey, I struggled with the standard approach to education, especially in subjects that relied heavily on verbal communication.

English classes were particularly challenging, with their emphasis on written assignments and complex language structures. Despite putting in effort, I couldn't fully grasp them. Words felt jumbled, and it was frustrating to watch others progress more easily.

Discovering Visual Thinking

It wasn't until later in life that I came across the idea of visual thinking—and suddenly everything made sense.

I realised I naturally understand systems, objects, and processes by visualising them. When I look at something mechanical, I don’t read it—I see how it works.

Where It Became a Strength

Visual thinking isn’t a weakness—it’s a different kind of strength.

It allows you to see patterns, connections, and relationships that aren’t always obvious. It’s like having an internal model of how things fit together.

This became clear in areas like maths and engineering, where I could visualise concepts, map systems, and work through problems more naturally.

How I Learned to Work With It

Once I understood this, I started working with it rather than against it.

Diagrams, flowcharts, and visual tools became essential. They turned complex ideas into something I could understand quickly.

Technology helped too—interactive tools, simulations, and anything that made systems visible rather than abstract.

The Bigger Pattern

This isn’t just about learning styles—it’s about how people interact with systems.

Some people think in words. Others think in visuals, patterns, and structures. When systems are designed for only one way of thinking, they become harder for everyone else to use.

Related Thinking

This way of thinking didn’t come from nowhere—it developed over time through different experiences.

• How LEGO Technic Shaped My Engineering Mindset — where I first started understanding how things fit together
• My Early Computing Experience (Vic20) — where logic and systems started to click
• Why Modern Cars Are Overcomplicated — how that thinking applies to real-world systems today

What This Means

Thinking differently isn’t a weakness—it’s just a different way of understanding systems.

Traditional approaches often favour language and linear thinking, but many real-world problems are visual and interconnected.

In practice, that means finding ways to work with how you naturally think, rather than forcing yourself into a system that doesn’t fit.

Understanding how systems actually work often makes them easier to fix and improve.

I spend a lot of time breaking down technical problems and making them simpler to understand and manage.

You can take a look at my TechFix service if that sounds useful.