It’s secrets would only be revealed by the efforts of a truly adventuresome dactylographer. Nope, the Remington wasn’t going to go quietly.

This machine, unlike Olympia SG1s, Adler Universals, and Hermes Ambassadors, doesn’t have a quick-release carriage. Knowing that I would need to get at the carriage rail assembly, I considered how to get in there. Let’s get back to the rabbit hole, shall we? Once I got everything apart (mostly by instinct, with a few glances at a 1951-vintage repair manual I found online), I panicked briefly, thinking I would never get this assembly back together. Disassembly and reassembly, however, are not so slick. This system allows for very smooth carriage movement and is pretty slick to look at. There is a lower rail bolted to the typewriter’s frame, an upper rail bolted to the carriage, and a set of bearings arranged in parallel rows that nest between the two rails. This model of Remington typewriters (the “Super-Riter” series) has a multi-part rail system. Hmmm.Īfter mulling this problem over for a while, I realized that I would have to remove the carriage and get deep into the rail assembly. The cleaning job didn’t work the carriage still stuck at the midpoint of its journey. I tried this approach, but I couldn’t reach deep along the rails before bumping into the carriage itself. With a lighter fluid-dipped q-tip, I would get the rails clean and the carriage running flawlessly again. I figured it was no big deal, just some gumminess in the carriage rails. So what was up? The carriage seemed free to move when it was released, but it would get stuck halfway when typing. Using the carriage release buttons allowed the carriage to move freely back and forth.

The keybars continued to strike, but the platen was stuck. Except for the carriage… As I tried typing a line, I noticed that the carriage would stop moving at about the halfway point. When I acquired this Remington Super-Riter, I found that it was in immaculate condition – no rust, no gunk, no dust – just perfect.

Only to realize that you’re heading down a rabbit hole. Sometimes you start down a path convinced that you’ve got the problem cornered. 1950s Remington Super-Riter “Standard” Superman using a Super-Riter

Route riter manual