This is a Citizen Promaster 3802-451732 Y quartz divers watch, probably from 1988. Or 1998 (see discussion below).
I am not entirely sure how it has come to be in my possession – or rather I do know how but what I am unsure about is what motivated its acquisition. The purchase of this watch fell within a frenzied trolly dash of Yahoo Japan purchases that ended in May of this year. There was a minor slip in July but since then, I have hardly looked at Yahoo Japan, having resolved to concentrate on depleting the stockpile rather than adding to it.
Back to our 20 bar divers watch: I think what attracted me to it was nothing more profound than that it was presented in an original box with papers, it looked in decent enough condition, had a rugged, handsome appeal and most importantly, it was cheap!
The paperwork, however, does not belong to this watch, the instructions being for a Citizen Solar Diver and the guarantee for a watch purchased new in 2011 with model number beginning 7877 (which fits with the Solar Diver identification). What age, therefore, is this watch? The serial number on the case back starts with the digits 803 and that would most likely place it as either a 1988 watch or 1998. It certainly doesn’t feel like a late ‘70s watch, especially given its 200m water resistance rating. I don’t know the production dates for the 3802 movement and so for the moment, I don’t feel confident in dating it as either ’88 or ’98. However, the dial features a Promaster symbol and according to the Citizenwatch global website, the Promaster branding did not begin until 1989. I suppose this watch might conceivably be a very early Promaster branded watch (the serial number would correlate with October 1988) but I’m leaning more towards 1998. Happy to be directed either way by more knowledgeable Citizenry!
As you can see from the opening photograph, the most evident signs of wear and tear are the marked scratches to the surface of the bevelled flat crystal. The bezel insert is excellent and the case pretty sharp all round. The bezel action is properly horrid and I suspect that it will remain so even after a proper wash and brush up but it is what it is. Removing the bezel reveals the click spring beneath, no fewer than three prongs contributing to the 60 clicks of its uni-directional action.
The two external design elements that grate slightly are: the extent to which the day/date window is sited in-board of the three marker, signposting a movement that is too small for the case; and an under-sized crown, again in relation to the 40 mm diameter of the case.
But otherwise, it’s a good-looking, chunky watch that presents the impression that it is up to the job of performing the role suggested by its design.
The watch wasn’t running when I received it but it quickly became obvious that that was because the battery was exhausted. With a fresh battery installed, the movement sprung back into life.
This photo confirms the external sign-posting that the movement is undersized relative to the external dimensions of the watch, the difference being bridged by a massive plastic movement ring.
Removing the movement from the case provides an unimpeded view of the dial and hands, all of which in perfect condition, barring some very minor signs of aging to the plating on the hands.
Although the movement works, it is unlikely that it has ever been serviced and if this is indeed a 1988 watch then that means 36 years-worth of dirt accumulation combined with degradation of the lubricants. A service is therefore in order. We might as well get stuck right in, starting with an initial disassembly of the electrical componentry on the train side of the movement.
Clockwise from top left, the complete movement, minus the battery. And then subtracting in order: the cover plate including battery retaining spring; the complete circuit; the coil.
At this point, I thought I’d make a start on the calendar side. Again, from top left in clockwise order: removing the day wheel retaining snap; which permits removal of the day wheel, exposing the day jumper plate; removing that provides access to a second plate, part of whose purpose is to provide support for the date jumper; and finally, all calendar parts removed, leaving just the hour and minute wheels.
Removing the hour wheel reveals that the centre wheel and cannon pinion are not separated by a central bushing.
You may have noticed from the photo above that the setting parts are located on the train side rather than on the dial side, as was the case with the NH34 Seiko movement in the previous post. Back to the train side and we can start to disassemble the mechanical guts of the movement. With the train bridge removed, we see a train of four wheels, the left-most the step rotor, followed by the fifth wheel, the fourth wheel with centre seconds pinion and the third wheel and pinion. The latter, it turns out, needs to wait until the plastic setting cover has been removed (top right) which in turn allows the yoke to be released (bottom right) which then provides the necessary clearance to remove the third wheel. The final step in this series is the removal of the centre wheel bridge and centre wheel, which leave the movement in a state of amost complete undress, if not yet completely naked.
The plastic structures that overlay the main plate beneath are easily removed by releasing a couple of tabs to the side.
Here’s the more substantial of the two overlays viewed against the side of the main plate against which it sits in situ.
All of the non-plastic and non-electrical components found their way into the watch-cleaning machine for a thorough clean and rinse cycle. The reversal of the dismantling process begins with the refitting of the two plastic overlays, followed by the fitting of the combined centre wheel and cannon pinion supported by the centre wheel bridge, which at this point is just pressed into position.
With that done, the third wheel needs to be set into position before refitting the setting parts.
The rest of the gear train is lined up next.
The four wheel-posts locate without too much jiggling into their respective holes in the train wheel bridge and the setting parts plastic cover is pressed into place.
Although the gear train at this point is properly secure, the setting parts are still only held in position by friction and so to tie this side down, we need to fit the remaining electrical parts, capped off by the cover plate.
Moving back to the dial side, the setting and calendar components are reassembled followed by the fitting of the dial ring in preparation for the dial.
The movement is, at this point, completely reassembled but I’ve not yet confirmed that it will run once again. Confident that I won’t be having to back-track, I refit the dial and then a fresh battery and the movement springs back into life.
Turning my attention to the case now, we start by pressing out the old crystal.
This being a 200m case, we see that the crystal seals against a nylon gasket, rather than the rubber that is typical of the older style 150m cases.
You can see from this shot how much dirt resides in all the crevices and crannies and so the next job is to deal with that. A visit to the ultrasonic bath and some elbow grease involving pegwood, toothpaste and a toothbrush, and it’s looking a great deal more presentable.
In the photo above you may have noticed that I have fitted a fresh nylon gasket rather than reuse the original. With no options available to source a correct OEM crystal, I opted for a generic crystal of the correct diameter and thickness but without the pronounced bevel.
The more slab-sided profile of the replacement crystal should be evident in the photo below.
The bezel click spring goes in next, followed by the bezel itself.
The truly terrible bezel action is no nicer following a wash and brush up than it was in its grungy state. I think this may be a combination of the very stiffly-sprung click spring and the lack of an o-ring in the bezel itself. The presence of the latter in Seiko models of this era contributes to a much more refined bezel action.
All that remains is to fit the hands, re-case the movement, locate a strap and reflect on whether this was a worthwhile endeavour.
There are a number of things I don’t like about this watch but in spite of its flaws, it has a slightly quirky character, an identity that marks it out from the crowd. And so, yes, I think the outcome is more than satisfactory and I am happy to have been able to provide it with another lease of life.
