Why can’t companies simply leave perfect tech alone? Okay, we all know why, but well-built things are so special.

Every so often, a piece of equipment reaches a point where I believe new versions should not be released anymore, and it should be sold that way forever. I’m not talking about perfection; there’s no such thing. But there are these rare cases where moving forward would only disrupt a delicate and elegant balance. That’s how I see so many things that came and went, like the iPod in its 5.5 model.

An opened iPod 5 (iPod Video) is connected to a cable and placed on a dark wooden surface.

The so-called 5.5 generation, also known as iPod video, which came after the 5, is a terrible device for watching movies. Not so much because of the small screen as because of the even smaller battery. But it was an okay device for keeping family pictures back then, and it was such a great music player.

Even its imperfections were among its best features. I recall being so impressed by the animations and other fancy elements on the more modern iPod Classic interface, but little did I know that all that was a detour. The 5.5 arranges our music collection using a very basic interface, which is all one needs to find the perfect tune, click, and listen.

Not to mention how mindful it is to know the name of the singer, the title of the album and even the name of the song you are looking for, and gracefully find it using the click wheel.

The distractions created by the beautiful interfaces on modern phones have nothing to do with getting into the flow when listening to music. 

Then, there was the storage capacity. Being able to carry all my music library with me was something magical back then, and it still is. Yes, I still use my iPod, which brings us to another great feature.

Another positive technical aspect of the iPod 5 and 5.5 is the ease with which it is possible to take them apart. Their successor, the Classic, on the other hand, is a classic example of Apple’s policy of making it harder for users to repair their devices.

Hacking

As a Maker, I love to make, fix, and improve things, and that’s what I did with my iPod. To be honest, things got a little out of control, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

The first modification I made was replacing the original spinning hard drive with a Compact Flash adaptor, which I later replaced with an SD adaptor. That not only prolongs the battery life, but after all these years, spinning drives are likely to stop working eventually. The battery was also replaced, but that can’t be considered a modification, right?

An open iPod reveals its internal components, including a circuit board and connectors, with a focus on a section labeled iFlash.

After that, I decided it was time to replace the click wheel because of a small dent. Talking about it, can we stop for a moment and appreciate how remarkable the click wheel is in terms of innovation? Such a simple and intuitive interface enables access to every single feature of the iPod. Which reminded me of a beautiful passage in Steve Job’s biography about the sleep button that gives me chills.

Anyway, I bought some parts online, and when they arrived, I started to take apart the iPod using an iFixit guide. The only issue with these devices is how breakable the old plastics are after so many years. And, yes, I broke a small lever that holds a flat cable in place. Great! Instead of resolving an insignificant aesthetic issue, I was left with a broken iPod.

That piece not only holds the cable in place, but it also keeps the circuits inside in contact with the board below. So, duct tape would not do it. I’m pretty sure I would find this part online, but there’s no way I would be able to replace it, as I don’t have the skills or the tools. The iPod then went into a drawer, where it remained for a good number of months.

A few days ago, I had an idea. Perhaps, if I could insert the cable into the connector and slide a thin piece of plastic above it, I could create enough pressure to force the cable to come in contact with the board below. After trying many materials, I finally found one that did the job.

A close-up view of electronic components with ribbon cables and circuit boards, featuring a highlighted red component in an inset.

Next, I had to make sure everything was working fine. Yes, it was. I did it! The last piece of the puzzle was to figure out how to make that MacGyver-inspired solution stay in place.

A person is holding a white iPod displaying The Beatles' A Hard Day's Night with various items like a can and wires in the background.

I have a generic double-sided tape with a foam inside that I avoid at all costs because it is the opposite of what 3M sells. It’s always difficult to remove it from anything, which means it’s perfect for my hack. You can see it in the picture above, showing the iPod circuits board. It’s the red rectangle.

Lesson learned

The iPod is not meant to be in pristine condition. It exists to play music, which is something to listen to, not to look at. And before you start talking about vinyl records and cassette tapes, I grew up listening to those, and I can appreciate how the experience can also be immersive. But I see the iPod 5.5 in the right spot to bring together the best of the past and current experiences of appreciating music.

It can hold my entire music library, and thanks to the SD adaptor hack, I can even expand the storage space if I need to. Then, there’s the click wheel, which makes the music selection as manual as it can be in a digital music player, without adding any friction to the process. And, believe it or not, I’m still able to use Apple Music on my modern MacBook to synchronize all my music with this masterpiece of its era.

My music. No subscription.

Have I mentioned it even has a headphone jack?