The Crank That Wouldn't Get Lost

On solving practical problems and recognizing what you've drawn

The Mikros One has a folding crank that stays attached to the grinder. One arm, pivoting from the center, with a handle at the end. Simple.

It looks like the spoke of a classic steering wheel, the elegant line connecting hub to rim, the deliberate curve, the proportions.

That resemblance wasn't the design goal. It's what I recognized halfway through sketching the solution to a much more mundane problem: I kept losing my grinder crank.

The Problem With Detachable Cranks

Most hand grinders use removable cranks. Makes sense for portability, smaller packed size, easier to store. But it creates an obvious problem: the crank becomes a loose part.

You grind your coffee, remove the crank, set it down somewhere while you brew, and then spend three minutes searching for it the next morning. Or it falls behind the counter. Or it ends up in a drawer with the spare batteries and takeaway menus.

I'd lost mine twice. The second time, I decided I was done with detachable cranks entirely.

The Folding Solution

The requirement was simple: the crank needed to fold flat against the body for storage but deploy for use without detaching. It needed to lock securely in both positions, handle grinding torque without flex, and not add significant bulk.

I started sketching. A single arm, pivoting from the center hub. Handle at the end for grip and leverage. The arm needed enough length for mechanical advantage but had to fold compact. The pivot mechanism needed to be robust, this would cycle thousands of times over the grinder's life.

Somewhere during the design process, I stopped and looked at what I'd drawn.

It was a steering wheel spoke.

What My Father Drove

My father owned classics. Not Italian supercars, he was a machinist, not a millionaire. MGs, Wolseleys, Standards, Vauxhalls. British cars from the '50s and '60s, built when steering wheels were still deliberately designed objects.

He maintained them himself. Taught me to maintain them too. As a small boy, I'd go with him to scrapyards, massive piles of cars stacked three and four high. He was scared of heights, so I'd climb up to retrieve parts he needed. They'd never allow that now.

But I learned what those cars looked like from the inside. The steering wheels especially, that single elegant spoke connecting the rim to the hub, the curve of it, the proportions. Functional objects designed with care, even in budget family cars.

That aesthetic imprinted early.

Recognition, Not Inspiration

I didn't set out to design a crank that looked like a classic steering wheel spoke. I set out to design a crank that wouldn't get lost, could fold flat, and had the structural stiffness to handle grinding torque.

The single-arm geometry solved that. One pivot point meant simpler mechanism, fewer failure points. The arm length came from ergonomics, comfortable leverage without excessive reach. The curve came from material efficiency, following the load path, minimizing stress concentrations.

It looked like a steering wheel spoke because steering wheel spokes solved similar problems: transmitting rotational force comfortably, structural stiffness with minimal material, elegant proportion within mechanical constraints.

Good engineering often arrives at similar forms when solving similar problems. I didn't copy a steering wheel. I solved the same problem those designers solved seventy years ago, and the solution looks related because the requirements are related.

But once I recognized the resemblance, I leaned into it. Refined the curve slightly. Adjusted the proportions. Not because it improved function, because it connected the design to something I grew up around, something my father maintained, something that represents an era when even everyday objects were deliberately shaped.

Form Following Function (With Memory)

The crank works because:

• It folds flat (solves the storage problem)
• It stays attached (solves the losing-it problem)
• Single pivot point (simple, reliable mechanism)
• Proper arm length (mechanical advantage without bulk)
• Load-following curve (structural efficiency)

It looks like a classic steering wheel spoke because the engineering requirements were similar and I grew up around those cars.

I could have made it look different, straight instead of curved, different proportions, added unnecessary complexity. But once I saw what I'd drawn, keeping that resemblance felt right. A small connection to the cars my father maintained, the scrapyards I climbed through as a kid, the aesthetic of an era that designed everyday objects with care.

Heritage, Again

Like MK356 (the four-bladed bearing support that happened to match a Mk9 Spitfire propeller), the crank wasn't designed to reference anything. It was designed to solve a problem. The reference emerged during the design process, and I chose to honor it rather than ignore it.

We don't invent heritage. We recognize when our engineering aligns with our history and choose to acknowledge it.

The crank looks like a steering wheel spoke because I solved the same problem Wolseley and MG engineers solved in the 1950s, using similar constraints, arriving at similar solutions. And because my father drove those cars, maintained them, taught me to appreciate engineering that balanced function with form.

The Honest Position

The folding crank exists because:

1. I was tired of losing detachable cranks (practical problem)
2. Single-arm folding design solved attachment and storage (engineering solution)
3. The result resembled classic steering wheel spokes I grew up around (recognition)
4. I refined the curve to emphasize that resemblance because it connected the tool to my father's cars (choice)

Function first. Form followed. Memory informed the refinement.

We won't claim we were "inspired by Italian supercars" when the real story is British family cars and scrapyard parts retrieval. We won't pretend the design started with aesthetics when it started with annoyance at losing cranks. We won't invent connections when real ones exist.

The crank folds, stays attached, and looks like a steering wheel spoke because that's what solving the problem honestly produced.