Abalone is an edible mollusk.

Its shell has a multicolored iridescent lining that's been used since ancient times to decorate jewelry and other prized objects.

More recently, abalone has been tapped as a source of collagen, a protein that supports the structure of bones, connective tissues, and skin.

Abalone collagen is a popular treatment in asia.

This farm and factory raises the abalones, then extracts their collagen to add to drinks, cosmetics, and medicine.

The abalones spend their first six months in the farm's hatchery and nursery pond.

Nocturnal, they hide from daylight under cement tiles that simulate their natural habitat of rocks and coral.

Their single shell has pores that regulate various bodily functions such as breathing and reproduction.

The main ingredient in their specially formulated food is seaweed.

Feeding time is once every evening.

At six months of age, the abalones graduate to the cultivation pond.

There are two types of growing methods.

In this one, before filling the pond with seawater, workers lay cement tiles at the bottom, along with underwater pipes that supply oxygen, which abalones need to survive.

The other method houses the abalones in stacks of polyethylene crates, referred to as condominiums.

With 50 to 100 abalones in each condo, the yield per square foot is significantly greater.

Every second day, workers remove the condos from the cultivation pond to rinse out the crates, check the abalones, and feed them.

Rather than wastefully using new seawater, the pond water is regularly drained, cleaned, and recirculated.

The cleaning system filters out feces and neutralizes ammonia.

After six months to a year in the cultivation pond, the abalones are mature and ready for harvesting.

Workers remove them from the shell and remove organs to be used for other products.

Then, the workers prepare to extract collagen from the meat.

First, they mash the meat in an industrial-sized blender.

The trick is to use an extraction method that doesn't destroy the collagen or diminish its effectiveness.

Abalone collagen must have full potency when consumed in order to stimulate the human body to produce more of its own collagen.

Since prolonged heating turns collagen into gelatin, worker use a process called cold extraction, stirring the meat in refrigerated tanks for up to seven days until the collagen separates and rises to the top.

Workers skim off the collagen, then, to make this particular product, blend it with mixed fruit juices.

Then they heat the drink in pasteurization tanks for three minutes to kill off any bacteria.

The drink contains 20% collagen and 80% juice.

When it's time to package the product, the conveyor belt moves glass bottles to the cleaning station, which washes them out with pressurized boiling water.

After washing, the bottles move to the next machine which fills them with the drink.

The next machine seals the bottles with an aluminum twist cap.

Controlled by a sensor, an inkjet printer applies the lot number on the cap along with the product's expiration date, a year away.

A worker visually inspects the bottles as they make their way to the labeling machine.

The factory's on-site laboratory conducts a series of quality control tests on random samples.

In this test, the technician uses a ph meter to ensure the product's acidity is within a specific target range.

In another test, she places a few drops on a device called a refractometer.

It measures to what extent light passing through the liquid is bent, which gives a reading of the sweetness.

While this drink is a skin enhancement product, other abalone collagen formulations are designed for weight loss, boosting immunity, increasing bone density, and strengthening cartilage.

An essential component of an audio system is the digital-to-analog converter.

It receives data from a digital device such as a computer, tv, or disc player and converts that signal to analog, an electrical audio signal that the sound system can amplify and play through speakers.

This digital-to-analog converter, part of a product line of high-end audio components, has four inputs for different digital devices.

It also has a built-in cd drive.

Many of the converter's structural parts are made by computer-guided machines.

This computer-guided lathe, for example, rotates an aluminum bar, which a cutting tool forms into one of four legs that support the cd drive.

This milling machine cuts and shapes most of the aluminum parts that makeup the converter's chassis, the box that contains all the electronic components.

The parts come off the mill with sharp burrs along their edges, so the next step is to trim them with a de-burring tool.

Workers spray the trimmed chassis parts with black powder paint, then bake the paint in an oven to make it more durable.

Then they print labeling on the chassis's front and back panels by squeegeeing white epoxy paint through a silkscreen stencil.

Then workers put the panels in the oven to bake the paint.

Workers install them in between the cd drive support base and each of the feet to create a floating suspension system that protects the drive from vibration.

Next, workers install the cd drive onto the support base.

They install the drive's protective cover.

It prevents dust from getting into the cd optical reader.

Meanwhile, a technician tests each of the converter's five circuit boards to make sure they function perfectly.

This board runs the l.e.d. display which shows the selected input and other playback information.

Once all the circuit boards pass inspection, workers solder the l.e.d. board to the front panel circuit board which runs the converter's user controls.

The worker inserts brushed aluminum push buttons into the front panel's labeled holes.

Then they attach the front panel circuit board.

This aligns the push buttons with the corresponding contacts on the board.

The worker assembles the chassis bottom, side, and back panels.

They attach the front panel with its push button controls, and in the center, an opening for the cd drive.

The technician visually inspects the converter's main circuit board, which converts the digital signal to analog.

If the main circuit board passes inspection, they install it in the back of the converter next to the power supply board.

Next, a worker installs the cd drive.

This requires connecting three cables into the main board-- one for the optical reader, and two for the motors that open and close the loading tray and spin the compact disc.

Before completing the converter by closing up the top, a worker tests the cd drive as well as the four other digital inputs, which are designed for connecting devices such as audio components, dvd or blu-ray players, tvs, and computers.

The testing machine takes all kinds of measurements to ensure the converter performs to a list of technical specifications.

If the unit passes inspection, they complete the assembly by attaching the top cover.

This digital-to-analog converter is now ready to play its critical role in this high-end audio system, reproducing sound for the discerning ear.

Embossed wood trim can make factory furniture look handcrafted.

The technique was developed over a century ago to mimic carvings on fancier furnishings that were only available to the wealthy.

Today, this trim is still giving furniture and cabinetry the look of hand carving.

The purpose of embossed wood trim is purely aesthetic.

It can transform a piece of furniture and make it a beautiful thing.

Making embossed moulding starts with a rough piece of maple.

Using a rip saw, a woodworker slices the board into strips.

The first cut straightens the edge of the wood to correct warps, and the second one trims the strips to the correct dimension.

He then carves through the center of each strip to get two pieces of trim from one board.

Each strip is about 1/2 inch thick.

The strips are ready to be fed to the moulder, a machine that shapes the flat surface to a specific profile.

The moulder has five cutter heads.

To prepare them, he inserts a spacer and a blade into the steel head.

He uses a magnet to pull them into alignment.

The worker locks the blade and spacer to the cutter head with bolts.

He slides the cutter head onto a spindle in the moulder.

The worker secures it with a nut, using a special tool for the job.

Once all the cutter heads are in place, he turns the switch on the machine.

As the cutters spin, the operator feeds the long strips of wood to them.

Rubber and steel wheels move the board from one cutter to the next.

The cutter progressively profiles the area that's to be embossed and creates decorative raised borders.

Here's a side view of the contouring.

This trim is now ready for embossing.

Some of the embossing wheels at this shop date back to 1908.

The oldest wheels are made of bronze, and the newer ones are made of steel.

There are hundreds of patterns to choose from.

The worker selects the wheel with the desired pattern.

He mounts it to an embossing machine that was built in 1908.

The worker locks the embossing wheel onto the shaft.

He ignites torches that heat the embossing wheel.

As the hot wheel revolves, it presses the pattern into the moulded strip of wood.

The heat releases moisture from the wood, preventing splintering during embossing.

A drive wheel below works in concert with the embossing wheel to move the wood forward.

Next up are rosettes that are used to accentuate the corners of furniture, windows, and doors.

Using a sliding apparatus known as a sled, the woodworker delivers a board to the teeth of a saw.

He makes straight cuts and squares to the desired dimensions.

The worker draws lines from one corner of the wood square to another, and from the opposite sides.

The lines intersect at the exact center of the square.

The worker clamps the square in a milling machine with the cutting tool aimed directly at the center.

He activates the tool to make the first circular cut.

He removes the wood square to check out the cut.

The worker measures it to confirm that it is in fact, dead center.

He returns the square to the platform under the milling tool.

This time the cutter spins into the wood to make a wider and deeper circular cut.

This further expands the pattern in a radial fashion.

And it completes the rosette pattern.

The worker examines the quality of the cut and measures the distance to the edge of the wood to verify that it's to spec.

From a simple wood square to an elegant rosette, this job is done.

The trim can now be used to make furniture looked hand carved without all the effort.

A stapler can instantly transform a pile of papers into a document.

Its story begins with the rapid increase in the use of paper in the middle of the 19th century.

The stapler was developed because people needed something better than string or pins to hold the pages together.

Plier staplers open and close like pliers to tackle fastening jobs with quick precision.

Making these staplers starts with the cover plate.

A press wields up to 176 tons of force to shape steel blanks to a slopped profile.

A robot inserts tracks into nickel steel casings.

These are the vertical staple tracks for the front of the stapler.

Tools bend tabs on the ends of the casings to fasten the two parts.

Another robot serves up covers for the stapler's magazines to an automated welder.

The welder fuses an assembly attachment to each cover.

A worker immerses some of the stapler's interior parts in a solution of water and zinc phosphate.

This solution forms an anti-corrosion coating on the surface of the steel.

These particular parts are pusher guides.

The top part has the protective coating.

The parts then take a ride with ceramic stones and polishing solution.

This smoothes rough bits and makes them shine.

Next up is the die plate.

This is the part that shapes and closes the staple during stapling.

An automated system screws an iron "u"-bolt attachment to the die plate.

A robot then inserts the spring block, the part that allows the stapler to spring back to its original position after use.

Meanwhile at the next station, a robot places a piece of precision-cut steel on a mold.

A press drives it into the mold to shape it into the stapler body that holds all the working components.

More robots then work in perfect sequence, to install thick metal pins across the stapler body.

These pins brace the stapler's structure, but that's not all.

Some of the stapler's working parts will hook onto these pins.

Other robots now fasten the die plate to one end of the stapler body using rivet hinge.

In the process, they also fasten the spring block securely to the die plate.

After cleaning and degreasing, the stapler bodies head into a paint booth.

Spray guns apply primer, and a curtain of water behind the parts prevents emissions from escaping from the booth.

The next sprayers coat the parts with green paint.

With the paint dry on the stapler body, workers are ready to assemble all the working parts.

The assembler slides the front staple track into place and inserts the staple pusher guide into the body.

She positions a metal plate over the guide and screws everything in place through holes in the body of the stapler.

The assembler clips a retaining ring around each screw.

Next up is the driver.

This part detaches staples one at a time during stapling.

After installing it, the assembler inserts the spring loaded pusher and hooks the end on the staple guide.

Another worker assembles the handle that allows the stapler to be wielded with plier-like accuracy.

He secures the handle with a rolling fastener.

This rolling fastener indirectly bears down on the staples to apply pressure during stapling.

Another team member then inspects the stapler.

Satisfied with its fabrication, she reaches for the cover plate and hammers the wings to bend them for a better fit.

She slides the cover plate into the grooves of the stapler and loads the staples to give it a trial run.

She staples paper repeatedly to confirm that it's fully operational.

These plier staplers are now ready for the workplace, where with a few quick crunches, they'll help keep the paperwork in order.


Ropes
Billiard Tables
Sailboards
Cymbals

Today on "how it's made"...

Ropes...

Billiard tables...

Sailboards...

And cymbals.

Years ago, making rope was a time-consuming process.

They stretched yarn 700 to 1,000 feet-- sometimes down alleys-- and secured it on hooks.

Then, they turned wheels to rotate the hooks, twisting the yarn into rope.

This technique was called a rope walk.

Luckily, today, we have machines to do all the work for us.

These ropes are made from thousands of nylon fibers that are finer than human hair but stronger.

To make rope, yarns wind around aluminum cylinders pulled by a turning spool down the line.

Then, three at a time, the yarns roll over another spool that applies a protective coating of urethane.

They funnel through a distribution plate that holds them evenly apart.

This ensures they're at an even tension as a rocking spool twists them into one larger yarn.

This machine is called the whirlwind.

It twists the yarn and then winds it onto a take-up spool inside.

A little arm moves back and forth, guiding the yarn so it winds evenly onto the spool.

This is core yarn, and it will be used to make other rope.

Now dozens of spools of nylon fiber unwind at the same time to make jackets to protect the core yarns.

The fibers travel several feet over a network of rollers that act as guides and control tension on each individual fiber.

They pass through distribution plates as turning bobbins below twist the fibers into yarn.

A platform moves up and down to evenly wind the yarn onto the bobbin.

They place 48 of these bobbins on the maypole machine-- so called because the braiding action resembles a dance around a traditional maypole.

The bobbins spin and zigzag around each other as the machine pulls core yarn up through the center.

Here, you can see the rope being braided around the core yarn as it's pulled up through a die.

This is the braiding action in slow motion.

It produces a mountain-climbing rope-- strong yet stretchy because of the twist in the core of the rope.

The rope winds onto the wheel as it pulls it upwards.

Then it spills into a basket.

A worker pulls out a sample rope to checks its flexibility and strength.

He bends it to make sure it will knot easily.

Now another maypole braider weaves a synthetic rope that's stronger than steel yet lightweight and flexible.

That's because the strands at the core are braided with a material called ultra-high molecular weight polyethylene.

It's a high-performance thermoplastic.

This rope will be used for advanced yachting.

A pulley draws this high-tech rope through some metal pipes filled with steam.

This shrinks the polyester jacket around the powerful core for a tight fit.

These dancing bobbins do some fancy moves to produce different weaves around core ropes.

They dip around and between each other in a choreographed sequence.

But there are no worries about production hitting a snarl-- if a yarn breaks, the machine simply shuts down.

It takes 8-10 hours to make around 3,000 feet of this large utility rope.

Now for the strength test.

They loop a sample piece of rope around steel posts.

This one is a nylon double braid, the type used for dock lines on boats.

Hydraulic pressure pulls the rope upwards while a computerized gauge measures the tension and detects the breaking point.

Almost 20,000 pounds-- that's the weight of a killer whale.

Needless to say, this rope is just fine.

Now for another test-- they insert a steel probe, known as a fid, into some industrial rope, then place the pointed end into a hole.

An electric motor forces the fid though while a gauge measures the force it takes for it to completely penetrate the rope.

It took 10 pounds of pressure to push the probe through the rope, which means this rope is firm yet flexible.

And that's how this useful item is made.

The game of billiards has beenaround in one form or another for nearly 500 years.

During the 19th century, the game's rules and equipment evolved to basically what they are today.

Billiards, also known as pool, is played on a slate tabletop that's usually 8'3½" long and 4'7½" wide.

Clients order billiard tables much like they would custom-designed furniture.

They pick the table's style, colors, the type of wood, and its lacquer and stain.

The tables come in maple, walnut, mahogany, cherry, and the most popular, oak.

A computer-guided machine shapes part of what'll be the table's frame.

This machine's rotating heads perform several different tasks.

A profiling head carves the angle of part of the frame, a routering head creates the table's decorative grooves, and a drilling head makes holes for bolts to fit through.

Six wood components, called rails, will surround the playing surface.

They have diamond-shaped carvings that'll become visual markers for the players.

After spraying the rails with glue, a worker inserts 18 metal nuts.

They'll be used later to secure the rails to the playing surface.

He attaches rubber strips along the sticky rails, which are just over three feet long.

The rubber will cushion the balls when they hit the sides.

The rails then pass through a press twice to ensure the rubber adheres.

Next, workers move the rails along this 30-foot-long sanding machine.

Rubber wheels gently grip each rail as presses rub sandpaper along the edge and top.

They skip the bottom because it'll be covered.

They pass the rails through this sander several times to smooth them down.

To make sure everything fits, a worker pre-assembles the four sides and the middle section of the frame's base.

He uses 20 metal bolts and 20 nuts to join them.

And he inserts eight wooden dowels in order to align the table parts correctly.

He stamps numbers on the frame sections so they can be reassembled later by pairing the same numbered parts together.

Next, a worker hot glues 18 one-inch-long mother-of-pearl components called sights.

He fits them into the carvings on the rails which have now been stained to the desired shade.

He taps them into place using a hammer and a block made of synthetic resin.

This way he won't damage the rail.

A worker then lines the rubber part of the rail with cloth made of wool and nylon.

He attaches it with a plastic strip that fits over the cloth and into a groove.

He uses a mallet to ensure the cloth is tightly inserted.

The worker then staples the cloth to the other side of the rail.

A zinc and brass plaque displays the table's brand name.

After shipping, workers reassemble the table in its new home.

Serial numbers ensure the parts belong to the same table.

Assembly takes about two hours.

They match the numbered parts together using up to 50 bolts and 50 nuts.

Then they level the table using metal components called leg levelers to adjust the table's height.

It's like sticking a matchbook under an uneven table leg.

Now comes the really heavy lifting-- workers fit the three sections of the table's top, which are made of slate and weigh up to 300 pounds each.

Slate won't degrade, and it won't budge if you hit it.

The workers use 12 screws to attach the slate sections to the frame.

They level the sections using wedge-shaped plastic shims between the slate and the frame.

Next, a worker melts wax over the cracks between the sections.

He uses a scraper to smooth out the playing surface.

The remaining holes will later be covered by rails.

After the wax dries, they cover the table surface with cloth, which comes in a variety of colors.

They cut the cloth in the corners so there won't be any creases in the lining of the pocket holes.

They staple the cloth to wood strips under the slate.

A worker pierces the cloth over holes in the slate so he can later attach the rails.

The six pockets are six inches deep and consist of a metal frame covered with a leather lattice.

Workers install 18 threaded metal rods underneath the rails.

Then they flip the rail assembly and insert the rods through pre-made holes in the table top.

They use nuts to secure the rods in place.

Screws attach the pockets, and voilà, your table is ready.

For prices ranging between $1,500 and $15,000 you have quite a stylish game.

American newman darby built the first sailboards during the 1960s.

He rigged a sail to a mast on a board with a tail fin and rode the wind and waves.

Today's windsurfers can pay several thousand dollars for their high-tech gear.

This includes a sail, a mast, and a sailboard.

To make a sailboard, workers start with a long block of styrofoam.

They attach a wood template, pushing nails through holes in the wood and into the block.

Using an electrically heated tool, called a hot-wire, they slice the block along the curved line of the template.

The result is what's known as the core.

They use styrofoam because it's lightweight and buoyant.

Next, a worker guides what's known as a shaper machine.

It outlines a template, called a masterboard, on the left, while a spindle cuts grooves into the core on the right.

The grooves are guidelines to carve the core into the shape of the masterboard later on.

The shaper's 40-pound counterweight lets the spindle gently hover above the core as it cuts.

Styrofoam dust flies everywhere, so the worker wears a protective mask to avoid inhaling it.

A worker then saws along the grooves to reveal the initial shape of the sailboard.

Another worker then sands down the core.

Next, he applies almost 1 1/2 pounds of epoxy resin onto carbon fabric to reinforce the material and make it sticky.

Another worker applies resin on fiberglass fabric.

These strong, lightweight materials are part of the board's fabric-and-foam-sandwich construction.

They'll harden inside molds of the board's top and bottom sections during the curing later on.

The workers carefully scrape away about 20% of the resin.

Too much and the board could crack during use.

Here, the worker spreads thicker resin onto a piece of rigid foam that's 1/8 of an inch thick.

He places it into the bottom mold and attaches a hand-sized plastic component called a fin box.

It'll hold the sailboard's fin, which helps the user steer.

They add kevlar, an ultra-lightweight synthetic fabric, as the final outer layer on the core's bottom side.

After applying resin to another piece of rigid foam, a worker cuts openings through which other components will later fit.

This layer is placed into the top mold and covered with more carbon fabric.

Next, a worker places the core into the bottom mold.

He fits two plastic components, called foot strap inserts, into openings lined with fiberglass fabric to secure them.

Another plastic component, called a mast track, fits through an opening lined with a stronger carbon fabric.

The track will later anchor a mast measuring up to 20 feet high.

Strips of carbon fabric also reinforce the areas where the windsurfer will stand.

Workers join the mold sections and insert the whole thing into a plastic sack called a vacuum bag.

They tape the end shut but leave two smaller holes open.

They attach two hoses to collars in these holes.

An electric pump then takes about three minutes to suck all the air out of the bag.

As the air is removed, pressure forces the mold sections even closer together.

After curing in an oven at 100 degrees fahrenheit for 5 hours, workers separate the mold sections.

Using a rotary grinder, a worker trims away excess hardened fabric and foam along the edge.

The whole board got a coat of primer earlier, but now a worker sands the paint off along the edge.

They place a strip of carbon fabric all the way around the edge and secure it with thin plastic wrap.

After more curing, the wrapping is removed, and the board is sealed for good.

Next, the sailboard gets another skin-- two coats of urethane paint.

A worker locates the foot strap insert holes and cleans them out with a router bit.

He uses a router to clean the inside of the mast-track opening.

An enormous vinyl sticker gives the board its personality.

A worker smoothes away any air bubbles.

Then, after inscribing the sailboard's dimensions and serial number, he signs the board.

Finally, workers glue on two rubber cushions, called deck pads.

For $1,900, you've got the foundation of a very cool gliding machine.

People have been crashing cymbals for centuries.

History tells us that cymbals were used in israel in 1100 b.c. over the centuries, the finest cymbals have been manufactured in turkey with a secret method for blending metals.

And those time-honored techniques still resound in cymbal-making today.

Cymbals play an important role in today's music making.

Each cymbal has its own character, resulting in subtle differences in tone.

To make cymbals, they start with castings.

In this case they're made of a secret blend of copper, tin, and trace amounts of silver.

A worker sorts them by weight.

Then a moving tray that's powered hydraulically takes them to a rotary oven.

1,500 degrees fahrenheit softens the castings, and then workers shovel them into a rolling mill.

It squeezes them between two big metal cylinders.

And the effect is the same as rolling out pie crust-- the castings become thinner, flatter, and larger.

These castings go through a heating and rolling cycle up to 12 times depending on the type of cymbal being made.

The repeated heating and cross-rolling creates a dense, interlocking weave in the granular structure of the alloy.

It will make the cymbals strong enough to take a real beating.

The interlocking weave will also help transmit sound waves more rapidly across the cymbal.

After the cymbal has been tempered and pressed into its final shape, they place it on a spindle.

While it spins, circular cutters shear the edges to a set diameter.

Next, the cymbal is pounded.

A hydraulic engine powers this hammering cylinder, and a computer program directs the force.

These impressions will enrich the cymbal's sound by changing the path of the sound waves.

Next, the application of tonal grooves.

This craftsman puts the cymbal on a lathe, bottom side forward.

The cymbal spins on an axle while the lathing blade cuts into it.

He starts with a hand-held lathing tool and then switches to one that's mounted on the machine.

Lathing removes the cymbal's outer layer and carves those important tonal grooves into it.

The depth and position will vary depending on the type of cymbal being produced.

He lathes the top of the cymbal entirely by hand so he can better control the amount of pressure applied.

Watch those fingers.

Don't worry--  he knows what he's doing.

He's honed his skills over five years of apprenticeship, and no automatic machine can duplicate the fine touch of an experienced cymbal craftsman.

Now he removes the newly grooved cymbal and puts it on an edging machine.

A big, round metal clamp locks the cymbal in place.

It spins while a cutting tool smoothes out the edge of the cymbal.

Here's a before and after shot-- the ragged rim is before edging.

The smoother one at the bottom is after.

This guy has the best job-- he's in charge of quality assurance.

That means he tests each cymbal before it's sent out into the marketplace.

He's listening for a range of sounds.

Now a laser etches the trademark into the cymbal.

It also engraves a unique serial number.

Next, a silicon pad sponges up ink from a print plate and transfers it to the cymbal.

Now that the company logo is on, it's ready for shipping anywhere in the world.

But this rough metal casting has already come a long way.

It's been transformed into a smooth, sleek cymbal over a total of 21 days.


Solid Tires
Cheesecake
Canoe Paddles
Globes

Today on "how it's made," solid tires...

Cheesecake...

Canoe paddles...

And globes.

Solid rubber tires are designed to conquer the toughest turf, the kind of rough terrain found at construction sites, landfills, and mining operations.

These places are full of hazards that would flatten ordinary air-filled tires, but solid tires don't go flat.

Even with a dozen nails sticking out of them, these big boys just keep on turning.

Strong and dependable, these tires are ideal for heavy work.

And because there's no inner tube, you never have to worry about getting a flat.

It all starts with a wide strip of partially processed rubber.

As the strip is forced through a series of holes, it's turned into a long, tubular shape.

Next, hot cylinders roll it thin and soft like a pie crust.

In another part of the factory, the tires' metal frameworks are being prepped.

A worker moves them along an overhead rail into a special chamber.

Steel pellets are added to the mix.

Inside the chamber, a machine tosses the pellets around and the friction polishes the metal tire frames.

Next, workers spray on a coat of primer and apply an adhesive.

Then one by one, the frames are mounted on a mechanical arm that's positioned in front of the rubber rolling system.

The arm moves the tire frame forward to meet the turning cylinders.

The metal surface, still tacky from the glue, easily takes up the freshly rolled rubber.

Depending on the kind of tire being made, the machine can layer the rubber around the frame up to 100 times.

Then, workers weigh the tire and slice off bits of rubber until it meets specifications.

This solid tire is now in good shape, so it moves on to the next stage.

Over at another station, they're building a different type of solid tire.

This one has no metal framework, so it can fit on a rim made for an air-filled tire.

Rubber strips are wound around the metal hub that serves as a mold.

Then a heavy press squeezes out any air pockets.

These rubber strips contain recycled material which is stiffer than regular rubber.

This will help the tire hold its shape in the absence of a metal framework.

Now it's time for some tread.

Workers begin the process by spraying a release agent onto a mold so it will be easier to remove the tire later.

Then they lightly glue the i.d. label and serial-number plate to position them for transfer to the tire.

The tire is centered in the mold with a metal ring.

Then the top section of the mold is lowered into place.

Now it's time to get cooking.

The mold is hoisted to another station and sandwiched between two steaming hot plates.

The searing temperature melts the rubber into the crevices of the mold.

Minutes later, the mold is opened and out comes a treaded tire.

The heat has also vulcanized the rubber, a molecular change that makes it much more durable.

Changing one of these tires isn't a job for just anyone.

Typically a specialist travels to the work site and switches tires using a heavy-duty hydraulic system.

And that's how you put a solid tire on a wheel rim made for an air-filled one.

Big tires with metal frameworks go into this autoclave to be shaped and undergo vulcanization.

A forklift, equipped with solid tires, of course, extracts the finished tires from the autoclave.

And now they're ready to roll.

When we return, another round creation.

People associate cheesecake with new york, but actually, it comes from greece.

The ancient greeks served this rich delicacy to the athletes of the first olympic games in 776 b.c. the roman conquest spread the dessert across europe, and many centuries later, european immigrants brought to north america.

The ancient romans even brought cheesecake to their temples as an offering to the gods.

The basis of a cheesecake is its rich, creamy filling made from ricotta, neufchatel, or cream cheese.

But first, bakers need to make the crust, similar to a butter cookie.

For a batch of about five dozen cakes, this bakery combines 50 pounds of butter with 10 pounds of sugar.

Next, 16 egg whites.

Then, 25 pounds of flour.

After mixing just long enough to incorporate the flour smoothly, a conveyor belt shuttles the dough to a vat.

Gravity pushes the blob of dough through a slot at the bottom, expelling a sheet less than a quarter inch thick.

A dusting of flour prevents the dough from sticking, not just to the conveyor belt but also to the rolling and cutting tools.

This prickly roller preparates the dough sheet.

The holes allow any trapped air to escape during baking, which prevents the dough from shrinking and ensures a flat, bubble-free crust.

The next roller has plastic circles that work like cookie cutters, slicing the dough into cake-size discs.

The leftover pieces go into new batches of dough.

Each dough circle goes in a pan, then bakes at 375 for 16 minutes.

Meanwhile, the batter starts taking shape.

For a batch of about 20 cakes, the bakery combines 25 pounds of cream cheese with two pounds of cultured sour cream.

That's sour cream processed a little longer than usual to give it extra flavor.

After slowly mixing in 15 pounds of sugar and about 2 1/2 cups of flour, workers blend in 3/4 cup of vanilla extract.

Now they get cracking with 1 1/2 dozen eggs.

That's the recipe for plain cheesecake.

Flavored versions come with extra goodies.

This batter is caramel pecan.

It's paired with a chocolate cookie crust.

As the baked crusts arrive, sprayers grease the inside of each pan with butter so that the cake will slide out easily after baking.

Then a machine, called the depositor, shoots in just the right amount of batter.

The pans now enter a tunnel-shaped oven that's almost 25 yards long.

The temperature inside is a toasty 350 degrees.

By the time the cakes exit the other end, they're fully baked.

These 10-inch cakes take just under an hour.

From the oven, the cheesecakes go onto a cooling conveyor, and by the time the hot cakes do the nearly hour-long circuit, they are at room temperature and ready to come out of their pans.

From there, most cheesecakes go straight into the storage freezer, but there are a few exceptions which detour to the decoration department.

This belgian chocolate cheesecake isn't complete without a squirt of chocolate ganache, a decadent mixture of chocolate and cream.

Workers spread it all over, then make swirls with a decorating comb.

And now the final touch, a sprinkling of cocoa.

Some cakes go into an automated cutting machine that divides each cake into 14 equal slices and inserts parchment paper in between them.

Back at the decorating department, they are putting shards of chocolate on a mud pie, a combination chocolate souffle, chocolate cheesecake with pecans and coffee mousse topping.

You might want to put off that diet just for one more day.

Coming up, an age-old implement gets a new spin.

They keep us from going adrift, and no one wants to be up the creek without one.

Paddles have been around so long no one know who is invented them or when.

But there's no question they've evolved.

Made with sophisticated craftsmanship, today's wooden paddles really go the nautical mile.

Modern paddles are often made from a blend of hard and soft woods for a product that's strong yet lightweight.

First, wooden boards are fed into a multi-bladed rip saw that slices them into uniform strips.

Each strip has a flat, smooth joint on the side.

Glue is rolled onto those flat joints and then the strips are pressed together.

These glued sections will be used to make paddle blades.

Over at another station, workers are creating the paddle shafts two at a time.

They glue shorter pieces of wood for the handles, and clamp them together to allow the glue to set.

The blade chunks are arranged in a much bigger clamp.

Then the glue-coated ends of some shafts are wedged between the blade pieces.

In a process called lamination, the blades are bonded to the shafts.

The laminated paddle shapes are called blanks.

Next, the blade design is traced onto one of the blanks...

And the design is cut out with a band saw.

Laminated wood doesn't warp easily.

This allows the factory to produce wider blades, which give the canoer more power through the water.

But paddles cut from a single piece of wood have a more traditional look and feel, and some canoers prefer them.

These narrower paddles are made with cherry wood.

Modern tools make quick work of a design that hasn't changed very much over the centuries.

In no time, a basic paddle has been carved from a single piece of wood.

Next, the edges are rounded off with a large router.

It shapes and contours the paddle to its final dimensions and gives it a smooth finish.

In just minutes, that chunky-looking piece of wood is transformed into a sleek traditional paddle.

Meanwhile, back in the laminated paddle department, notches are sawed into each paddle blade.

Workers mix up a liquid plastic concoction...

Then pour it into the slots to harden.

The plastic gives the paddle tips some extra protection against rocks and other obstacles in the water.

Now it's time to improve the profile of the laminated paddles.

With the same type of router used to shape the solid paddles, workers fine-tune the design.

Both types of paddles then get a heavy sanding.

The final touch is to taper each paddle head so that it's much thinner at the tip.

Trademark information is branded onto each paddle using a hot iron.

Then it's time for the paddles to take a dip in a tank of varnish that contains a sunblock.

The varnish both protects the wood and enhances its natural beauty.

The paddles are suspended on an overhead conveyor to dry.

And soon, they'll be on their way to a waterway near you.

Up next, a factory that makes the world go round.

Because the world is round, flat maps don't give us the full picture.

A globe is the most accurate representation of the earth.

It depicts countries in true spatial relation to one another, and better defines latitude and longitude lines.

At the globe factory, production revolves around world events.

As war and political upheaval redraw boundaries, these spherical maps have to be constantly revised.

Globe construction begins with a big roll of cardboard.

A machine pulls it under a roller that coats it with glue.

A knife then slices the cardboard into smaller pieces, which will serve as liners for the maps.

One more coat of glue, and then the liners are attached to the back of maps.

Heated rollers press them together, completing the seal.

Each map represents a hemisphere.

A powerful press now cuts the maps into a pinwheel shape.

Each map must be carefully positioned in the cutting press.

After all, one false move, and a whole country could end up on the factory floor.

It takes two punch cuts to do the job.

Then, the excess paper is pulled away, leaving behind a map divided into 12 spoke-like sections.

Here's a top view of that cutting press.

It acts like a giant fist to punch out pinwheels.

And now it's time to shape the world.

Workers place a map cutout and a liner into a mold.

It rises into a heated cavity that presses the paper into a bowl-like shape.

One hemisphere down, one more to go.

The southern hemisphere is created using the same type of mold.

Molds also emboss each map to represent the peaks and valleys on the earth's surface.

Here's an inside look.

The raised and indented sections of the molds allow people to see and feel variations in the world's topography, both aboveground and underwater.

With the hemispheres complete, it's time to go global.

The northern hemisphere goes for a spin while a razor blade trims the edges.

Then the lower hemisphere takes its turn while a nozzle beads hot glue along the inside.

This stiff cardboard ring adheres to the globe and gives it some re-enforcement along the equator.

Glue is applied to the northern hemisphere...

And it is fitted over the ridged edge of the southern one.

The two halves are precisely aligned, then tape is attached over the seam.

This both disguises the seam and marks the equator.

Next, each globe is mounted on a pedestal that's attached to a metal arc called a meridian.

Suctioned to the top of the globe, the meridian will allow the earth to revolve.

From fragments of paper and glue, a whole new world's been created in just a couple of hours.

Globes tell us where we are and help us figure out where we're going.

They come in many different languages.

And because they help us get our bearings, you could say they make the world a better place.


Glass Sculptures
Racing Pulley Systems
Inductors
Medicine Balls

the use of glass as an artistic medium dates back to ancient egypt.

Despite the obvious fragility of glass sculptures, this art form has an enduring appeal.

The transparency of glass often has a ghost-like quality.

They're tangible works of art that are skillfully crafted.

With this glass sculpture of a horse, the artist's two passions come together-- art and horsemanship.

The artist takes inspiration from her horse, observing the swell of his muscles as he romps in order to create the same sense of movement in glass.

She then draws a series of sketches of the horse in different stances.

These sketches are an artistic study.

They help her work out the sculpture's form before actually creating one.

She cleans solid glass rods to prepare them for sculpting.

This is borosilicate glass, which is more resistant to thermal shock than other kinds of glass.

She brings the glass into the flame of a torch to soften it.

Once softened, she can fuse two of the rods together.

Then using tweezers and flat, knife-like tools, she sculpts the glass into the shape of the horse's hips and legs.

She works quickly so the glass doesn't have a chance to cool and fracture.

She adds a smaller piece of glass and forms it into a tail.

She constantly turns the glass as she works it to make sure it looks good from all angles.

She melts glass in front of the hips to build up the body and shape the horse's belly, back, and chest.

This is intensive and precision work.

The piece must be exposed to a well-adjusted flame and constantly moved so it doesn't become too hot and melt too much.

She adds glass to the front and sculpts the shoulders and part of the front legs.

She removes a little piece of extra glass.

She deposits the sizzling, unwanted bit in water to cool it down and dispose of it safely.

She does more work on the front legs.

She'll refine them and form hooves later, but now she bakes the partially sculpted glass horse in a kiln.

This is the first annealing, which realigns molecules to prevent cracking.

She forms the head and mane separately from the body.

This is more intricate work.

The features are much more detailed, so she uses smaller tools.

Once she shapes the eye sockets, she melts little blobs of black glass into them.

She sculpts the eyes with a flat knife.

She carves creases above them to create an eyelid effect.

She adds glass for the ears.

Then, using a tool called a masher, she pinches the ears to squeeze them thinner.

She heats them again.

This process can cause the ears to stick together, so she cuts them to separate them.

She curls the ears using tweezers and tweaks their position on the horse's head.

She melts the base of the head to the body, and they become one.

She fuses more glass to the back to craft a mane, and after another annealing, she returns to the legs.

She softens them with a flame again and adds definition to the fetlock joints.

She cuts the tips to create a more level surface.

She melts black glass on to the ends of the legs and sculpts it into the shapes of hooves.

With a series of tools, she tweaks each hoof until she's satisfied this glass horse will stand the way she wants it to.

After another annealing, she shines a polarized light through the sculpture and examines it for stresses that could compromise its structure.

Finding none, this galloping work of glass art is complete.

It's been made with great care and caring.

To turn a regular car into a race car, one needs to change the pulley system mounted to its engine.

Factory-installed pulley systems are heavy, and their pulley-size ratios are designed for driving at low speeds.

A racing pulley system is lightweight and has pulley ratios for high-speed driving.

Replacing the factory-installed pulley system on a car engine with one of these racing pulley systems is like putting a car on steroids.

The components of this system are determined by what the engine already comes with.

For example, if the engine's water pump is too heavy for racing, this company makes a lightweight one along with a size-appropriate pulley to go with it.

To make a pulley, an automatic saw cuts a patty off an aluminum bar.

Workers then mount the patty on a computer-guided lathe.

As the lathe spins, multiple tools shape the patty into a pulley.

The first two tools drill a hole in the center and machine the overall shape.

Then, this tool bores the hole to a precise diameter.

This tool carves grooves along the perimeter for the pulley belt.

This broaching tool makes 17 vertical grooves inside the bored hole corresponding to grooves on a shaft, locking the pulley in place.

A worker removes the partially-formed pulley from the lathe and mounts it on a computer-guided mill.

The mill's first tool drills six round holes.

The next tool reshapes those holes into triangles known as windows.

This reduces the pulley's weight.

The factory sends all pulleys out to a plating shop which coats the aluminum with the hard, black protective finish known as anodizing.

This is a different type of crankshaft pulley.

To make it, the automated saw first cuts a patty from a smaller aluminum bar.

Then, a worker mounts it on a computer-guided lathe.

After the first tool evens out the surface, this tool drills a hole through the center.

The next tool enlarges that hole.

The next tool cuts a female pattern inside the hole.

A female pattern has grooves which receive corresponding protruding areas of a male pattern.

The lathe then transfers the patty to another spindle to expose the opposite side for machining.

The first tool shapes the back.

The next one cuts a male pattern.

With a female pattern on one side and a male pattern on the other, multiple pulleys can be stacked and interlocked to accurately align the system.

The final tool cuts straight teeth for a square-tooth belt.

When an original engine component is replaced with a new, smaller, and lighter one suitable for racing, the factory must also make a smaller, lighter bracket to mount the new component to the engine.

A computer-guided mill shapes a rectangular piece of aluminum cut by the same automated saw that cut the patties for the pulleys.

Brackets, like pulleys, go out for anodizing.

When they come back to this factory, they get laser-printed with a brand name and model.

Here's how the pulley system assembles on this particular engine.

First, the technician bolts an adapter to the harmonic balancer.

The harmonic balancer is a component on all engines that lessens vibration.

Next, he installs the new crankshaft pulley on to the adapter, attaching it with a long central bolt that extends beyond the harmonic balancer and into the engine's crankshaft.

He installs a new lightweight water pump, which has a new mounting bracket for the alternator attached to its left side.

Then, he bolts on a new water-pump pulley, which has grooves for two belts.

After mounting a new lightweight alternator, he connects the water-pump pulley to the crankshaft and power steering pump pulleys with one belt and to the alternator pulley with another belt.

This allows simultaneous steering, battery charging, and water circulating to cool the engine.

Coiled copper devices called inductors provide storage for electrical circuits.

As electrical current flows through the coils, a magnetic field is produced.

The inductor stores the electromagnetic energy until the circuit is ready for it.

They're one of the most important parts in the circuit.

Inductors come in many shapes and sizes.

Conductive windings surround an iron-based core to provide temporary energy storage and to regulate the current flowing through a circuit.

To make an inductor, manufactures use plenty of flame-resistant insulating material.

They cut sheets of it to the desired dimensions.

An operator programs this an automatic shear to cut the electrical insulation into long strips.

The hydraulically driven blade makes clean, straight cuts.

These strips will be used to insulate the inductor core and coils.

A worker folds a rectangular piece of insulation around an aluminum form to start the inductor coil.

She tapes the ends together.

She pulls a strip of copper foil to the insulation.

She's pre-soldered a terminal to the end of the foil, and she tapes the terminal to the insulating material.

She begins to wind the copper foil around the insulating material and stops.

She places one of the long insulating strips under the copper foil and resumes winding.

This prevents short circuits.

She clamps the copper windings tightly together and tucks an extra piece of the insulation under the copper.

She hammers the copper to flatten any kinks.

She solders a second terminal to this end of the copper foil windings.

These terminals will be used to connect the inductor to the electrical circuit.

She holds the terminal in place with a metal dowel and the soldering iron until the solder solidifies.

She then cuts the copper strip along the edge of the terminal.

She applies fiberglass tape to the soldered terminal joint.

She removes the clamp and adds more tape to keep the terminal in place.

She then winds fiberglas tape around the inside of the inductor coil.

This outer wrap will prevent shocks to anyone who might touch the inductor when it's part of an electrical circuit.

Using a tough nylon block to absorb the impact, she hammers the inductor coil to make it more rectangular.

She removes the coil from the winding machine.

Next up is this hard, polyester-infused fiberglass.

Manufacturers will ultimately use it to insulate the core and fill the gaps.

With a hydraulic shear, a worker cuts the fiberglass into strips that will fit in the core.

Another worker clamps two of the insulated copper windings side by side.

She inserts a c-shaped iron core in one end of the copper windings and flips the inductor assembly over.

She connects the protruding terminals with a tin-copper jumper.

She inserts insulating spacers into both cavities.

These fiberglass spacers will fill the gap between the two iron "c's".

She installs the second half of the iron core.

When alternating current is applied to the copper windings, it will create a magnetic field in this core, and this is how the energy will be stored.

She tucks a couple of fiberglass insulating spacers between the iron "c's" and the coils.

She drives them deeper into the inductor.

She loops a stainless-steel band around the iron core and pulls it tight with pneumatic tensioning tool.

She solders the ends of the band to secure it.

Workers immerse the inductor in a vat of varnish under vacuum pressure.

The varnish completely seals the inductor against dirt and moisture.

This instrument detects any problems with the insulation.

It's one of several tests conducted.

If the inductor passes them all, it's ready for the electrical circuit.

A medicine ball has nothing to do with medicine but everything to do with health.

This heavy ball is an effective workout tool, available in a variety of sizes and weights.

It can be used for a wide range of exercises to improve strength, coordination, and cardiovascular fitness.

Medicine balls are mass-produced in a variety of materials.

This company is one of the few remaining which craft traditional leather medicine balls entirely by hand.

The craftsman uses shoe leather, which is thicker and sturdier than garment leather.

He places a pattern on top and cut loosely around it with the utility knife.

This steel-cutting die precision-shapes the panel.

The craftsman places it on the rough-cut panel.

Then, with a press, forces the sharp die through the leather.

The ball is made up of seven panels like this one.

Once he has cut all seven, he repeats the process with the circular pattern, then a circular die.

This cuts two leather circles--  one for each end of the ball.

He cuts identical pieces from nylon cloth.

These pieces will line the seven panels and two circles.

For the circle linings, he first hand-cuts squares.

Then he cuts those squares into circles with the die.

He clamps each lining to its corresponding leather piece and sews them together with heavy-duty polyester thread.

This industrial sewing machine is known as a cylinder bed machine because the sewing surface is cylindrical rather than flat, which enables working with a three-dimensional shape.

He takes two of the lined panels, and one at a time, puts them back on the press, this time using a different cutting die.

It cuts a notch in eight lace holes.

He then places one of these panels in an embossing press, which heat-stamps the brand name into the leather.

Using different dies, he cuts pieces of vinyl to reinforce the lace holes, then sews them to the panels.

This is the only area where the bright red thread will be visible.

He sews the panels to each other until he's formed a closed circle.

However, he doesn't yet stitch together that notched area between the two sets of lace holes.

First, he sews the lined leather circles to the ends.

The ball's leather shell is complete, but inside out and with a gap between the lace holes.

The craftsman hands it off to a colleague who inverts the shell and presses the seams against a metal rod to stretch and round them out.

Now it's time to stuff the shell.

The worker takes shredded scraps of leather, inserts them through the gap between the lace holes, then compresses the scraps with a thick wooden dowel.

Once the ball is fully stuffed, he makes sure the ball has reached the target weight.

Weight precision, however, is less important than perfect roundness.

To close up the ball, he threads a thick rawhide lace through a large brass needle and threads it through the lace holes, pulling tightly.

This is the same sturdy lacing configuration that's used on footballs.

He uses two large, thick nails to properly size the end loops.

Then he snips off the excess lace.

And pokes each end inside a lace hole.

Now he can safely remove the nails.

With a final pounding here and there to perfect the shape, this medicine ball is ready to pull its weight in someone's exercise regiment.


Thermometers
Produce Scales
Aircraft Painting
Luxury Chocolates

You can sense the difference between hot and cold, but a thermometer puts a number on it.

The concept is simple-- heat causes liquid to expand, forcing it up a glass column with a scale attached to it.

Italy's galileo came up with the idea in 1593.

Incredibly, these century-old thermometers can still tell the temperature.

But modern versions are a bit more precise.

To make one, they clamp glass tubing onto a carousel.

As it spins, torches heat the center of the hollow glass, while below, the operator pumps air into it.

This causes the melted glass to blister.

They break the tubing at the blister, creating two tubes with funnel-shaped openings.

They anchor a shorter glass cylinder on a turntable and suspend one of the funnel-mouth tubes above it.

The tubes spin in concert as torches melt them together.

The funnel ensures that the melting doesn't close the hollow tube.

Another torch now aims further down the cylinder.

It seals the end and shapes it into a ball.

To test a sample of the production run, they heat the entire length of the tubing.

This creates vacuum pressure so that when they place the open end in liquid wax, the tubing sips it up like a straw.

By watching the liquid ascend, they confirm that the thermometer fills as it should and has the right dimensions.

Next, the glass tubing swirls on a carousel as flames and forced air work together to form a longer blister.

Again, they break the tubing at the blister.

This blister creates openings that allow them to snake a narrow, hollow wire through the tubing, joining the two sections.

Flames melt and seal the glass around the wire.

This is called a glass-to-metal weld, and it creates a more flexible thermometer.

They cool the welded glass and wire on a conveyor.

Next, they turn on a vacuum pump for several hours to pull the air out of the wire and tubing.

This draws the blue liquid wax up, but this time, it's not a test.

The wax is a nontoxic alternative to mercury that will expand and contract with changing temperature.

The thermometers now travel through chilled alcohol, shrinking the blue liquid down to the closed end of the thermometer.

As the tubing turns, flames follow the top end to melt and close it.

A heat gun below then drives the liquid up the tubing, and the air pressure creates a bubble in the end that was just closed.

This bubble will be the thermometer's expansion chamber.

They plunge the thermometers in ice water to calibrate the bulb liquid to 32 degrees fahrenheit.

They scratch the glass at that mark.

Next, the thermometers warm up in a bath set at 200 degrees fahrenheit.

The blue liquid shoots up, and they make another scratch.

They align the two scratches in the thermometer with markings on a printed grid.

The distance between the two scratches often varies, so by measuring against this grid, they can calibrate the thermometer.

They then match the thermometer with the corresponding scale.

They install the top section of the thermometer in a case which can be metal or plastic.

They then choose the appropriate scale and slide it between the glass tubing and case.

They wrap part of the wire capillary around a joint and then cap it.

The sensor bulb of this thermometer will be used to gauge the temperature inside industrial piping.

So they protect it with a metal sleeve called a bulb chamber.

A glass window slides easily into the grooves of the casing.

A plastic cap is the finishing touch.

And now these thermometers are ready to gauge the highs and lows of industrial processing, and they're sure to measure up to expectations.

Much of what you buy in the produce department of your supermarket is sold by weight.

So the store usually hangs a scale at the end of the aisle on which you can weigh your purchase before heading off to the checkout.

This is typically a type of scale with fairly simple mechanics.

Internal springs spin a pointer to the correct weight mark on a dial.

The weight of produce hanging in the pan pulls on a pair of springs inside the scale.

They move the various internal components that turn the pointer to the corresponding weight mark on the dial.

To make the scale's frame, a press stamps a steel plate five times, progressively cutting and bending it into the final frame shape.

A washer goes into each steel spring.

They turn it up or down to adjust the spring's tension.

That's how they'll calibrate the scale later.

The top part of each spring will bolt to the frame, and the bottom part to this slider-- a long metal component with weight markings.

Next, they attach a component called a rack to one end of the slider, securing the screw tightly with thread-locking fluid.

The rack's teeth will mesh with this pinion gear and turn it.

They install one end of the pinion into the frame.

Then they screw on a metal bridge to support the other end.

They insert the slider with the rack attached through the bridge.

Now when you pull on the slider, the pinion turns.

Next, they attach the springs to the frame and slider.

Each spring in this imperial scale supports up to 20 pounds, making this a 40-pound scale.

When weight pulls on the springs, they move the rack, which turns the pinion, which rotates the scale's pointer.

A press stamps out the dial face from a steel plate.

After painting it white, they print on the markings with a silk-screen press.

They insert a spring to prevent the rack from slipping on the pinion.

Then they put the face over the bridge so that the pinion protrudes through a hole in the middle.

A guide helps them align the face so that the zero will be in the right spot.

Then they tighten two screws to attach the face.

A press stamps the pointer from a thin sheet of aluminum.

Using a special tool, they twist the end, forming a thin tip that won't obscure the fine line to which the pointer's pointing.

Next, a coat of red paint so the pointer will stand out against the black-and-white face.

Once the paint's dry, they mallet the pointer onto the pinion.

Now they hang the pan on the scale and turn a little screw in the slider to adjust the pointer to zero.

This ensures the scale will weigh just the produce rather than the produce and the pan.

Now they calibrate the scale.

To do this, they load it with weights to full capacity, which is 40 pounds for this scale.

If the pointer doesn't indicate 40 pounds on the nose, they turn the washer in each spring to adjust the resistance.

Then they adjust the pointer back to zero again.

This is what they call a double-dial scale, meaning it has a face and pointer on each side.

They install the second dial on the opposite end of the pinion so that the two pointers move in unison.

They close up the space between the two dials with a strip of white plastic.

This sash ring, as it's called, has grooves for the dials and for the transparent plastic cover that goes over them.

Hanging scales can have dials or digital readouts, and they come in a wide range of capacities, from your common 20-pound, or 10-kilogram, grocery model, to heavy-duty 600-pound, or 272-kilo, scales designed to pull their weight in industry.

The stresses of flight are hard on an aircraft's paint job.

Ice, rain, and other environmental factors can soon make an aircraft look travel-weary.

Regular paint jobs are just the ticket when it comes to keeping up appearances.

They also help maintain the integrity of the airframe.

Problems may lurk beneath the old paint of an aircraft.

Stripping it off can expose weaknesses in the aluminum skin.

They brush on a powerful chemical solution.

The paint bubbles off, baring the aluminum and any small holes or dents in it.

They seal the windows and doors and wrap sensitive components like antennas to protect them during stripping and pre-painting.

Back to those flaws on the exposed aluminum.

A production manager flags any damage or corrosion with blue tape.

A technician then mixes a two-part aerodynamic filler.

He works quickly because the compound will harden in minutes.

He spreads the filler on the defects flagged by the production manager.

The repair job smoothes the surface for painting and makes the airframe stronger and more aerodynamic.

This aircraft has been primed and sanded.

Now technicians blow off all the dust.

They also wipe it down with adhesive cloths.

This intensive cleaning is crucial.

The plane has to be squeaky-clean or the paint won't adhere properly.

Next, they prepare an additional primer.

They spray it on areas that need more coverage and around parts that will get a lot of wear.

They then mix polyurethane paint with various catalysts and activators.

It's a special aircraft blend.

Jets can be jumbo-sized, of course, so they often prep and paint a section at a time, sometimes on different days.

They're now working on the fuselage and tail.

Respirators and full-body gear protect them from the hazardous fumes as they work from the top of the aircraft down.

A warm, low-humidity environment is essential to allow the paint to cure properly.

And they'll adjust the paint formula to compensate when conditions aren't optimal.

An aircraft usually gets two to three coats, resulting in a high-gloss finish.

While it dries, a technician demonstrates for our camera the process of painting stripes onto an aircraft.

He maps out the paint scheme with tape, then peels away some of it.

He spray-paints the exposed sections.

He peels off more tape and then covers the freshly painted stripes with protective paper so he can spray another color onto the plane.

He pulls back the final pieces of tape, and this job passes with flying colors.

They do some final detail work to make sure the lines are clean and crisp.

After all, appearances count in the high-flying world of international travel.

Even very tiny imperfections won't be tolerated.

Using fine-grit sandpaper, they make them disappear.

It can take four weeks and 1,800 person-hours to repaint a large jet.

And when it comes to price, the sky's the limit.

The least expensive jobs cost tens of thousands of dollars.

So the customer has the final say.

The handshake means this plane is ready to model its new look on the runway.

Bite into a luxury chocolate, and you'll get a taste of one of the finer things in life.

Each one tastes different from the next, and it's that element of surprise that keeps us coming back for more.

Of course you could consult the index on the box, but that would spoil the fun.

Ever since chocolate was discovered, people have had a craving for it.

Today's luxury chocolates take our addiction to a whole new level.

They add marshmallow cream and lots of pure butter to a mix of sugar and corn syrup to whip up some buttercream chocolates.

Water, vanilla, and a special yeast enzyme complete the recipe.

The enzyme will enhance the creaminess.

They tuck the buttercream between ridged rollers, which shape it into creamy columns.

A wire slices them into bite-sized morsels.

They tamp the buttercreams to a uniform height.

Chocolate oozes up through the slats of this conveyor to coat the bottoms of the creams.

Then it's on to a cool surface to solidify.

Next, the creams travel through two curtains of chocolate while being coated on the bottoms again.

A worker uses her fingers to make a symbol on the top.

It's a clue as to what's inside.

A trip through a 24 1/2-foot-long cooling tunnel hardens the chocolate, and it's a feast for the eyes.

You can look, but don't taste.

These chocolates are headed to the stockroom.

Now production takes a sweet turn as they cook up a caramel filling.

They add sugar and salt to water, followed by corn syrup and a lot of heavy cream.

They fire up the burner and turn on the mixer.

They add butter to enhance the flavor.

As the mix comes to a bubbling boil, it caramelizes.

Then they kill the heat.

Otherwise, the next ingredient, pure vanilla, would evaporate.

They apply a nonstick substance to a big pan, then pour the caramel into it.

They leave it to set overnight.

The next day, they divide the caramel slab into squares.

They feed the caramel squares into a device with circular knives.

It's called a gang cutter, and it slices the squares into strips.

They turn the sliced square sideways, and it goes through the gang cutter again to create caramel cubes.

They dust the caramels with starch so they won't stick to each other as they go through the chocolate-coating system.

And that's how they get the caramel in the chocolate.

To make cordial-cherry chocolates, they load the cherries into a revolving pan.

They add sugar crystals, and as the cherries roll around, they get an even coating.

Along with the sugar, these cherries have been coated with a special enzyme.

It will turn the sugar to liquid over the next 10 days for a juicer cherry taste.

The enzyme effect is why the cherries get an extra coating of chocolate.

It creates a solid shell that contains the sugary liquid.

And now they're ready for cherry-picking chocoholics.

Each box of chocolates contains 18 to 20 different varieties.

Since they make three to four flavors a day, it can take up to a week to produce one of these luxury assortments.

Of course, they'll be devoured in no time at all.

For the customer, it's one sweet deal.


Classic chinese furniture is made of rich, lacquered woods with intricate carvings and ornate artwork in mother-of-pearl inlay.

For centuries, the specialized skills required to craft these functional works of art have been passed down from generation to generation.

The style of this striking rosewood sideboard dates to the tang dynasty of the 7th and 9th centuries-- a period considered a golden age of chinese arts.

This manufacturer is located in thailand.

Its design team consists of a conceptual designer who merges the structure and aesthetic features, a specialist who ensures the historical accuracy of the piece, and artists who draw the patterns for the elaborate wood carving and the intricate mother-of-pearl inlays.

The team produces a highly detailed blueprint and makes several copies of the artwork patterns for the craftspeople to use.

To make each inlaid cabinet door, a woodworker glues the pattern onto the wood, making sure that it's perfectly centered.

Then using a router, he cuts about 3 millimeters deep, making a groove along the pattern's perimeter and cutting out the parts that will be inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

Meanwhile, using another copy of the pattern, a worker makes templates by cutting out the same parts the woodworker routed out of the cabinet door.

Each template is marked either pink, white, or green.

She glues it into a 3-millimeter-thick piece of the corresponding color of mother-of-pearl.

The next craftsperson takes one piece at a time, and holding it steady with pliers, carefully saws around the template with a 1-millimeter-wide blade.

Once she's cut all the pieces, she reassembles the pattern.

The next craftsperson spreads adhesive paste into the cutouts in the cabinet door.

Then he fills each cutout with its corresponding piece of mother-of-pearl.

Five hours from now, once the adhesive has dried, he runs a sander over the design to remove the paper and excess adhesive, smooth the wood, and polish the mother-of-pearl.

Then an artist etches fine detail into the mother-of-pearl.

This provides texture, dimension, and expression to objects and characters, which, until now, were merely blank shapes.

High-end chinese-style furniture like this is traditionally made of heavy and sturdy rosewood.

They first dry the wood to a humidity level of 11%.

This prevents components from expanding or contracting significantly with temperature changes, which is critical because the sideboard is made of traditional jointed construction.

The parts lock together without any nails, screws, or glue.

To prepare pieces that will have a carved design, a worker glues a copy of the pattern onto the wood.

Next, a woodworker drills a small hole in each area of the pattern to be cut out.

He feeds a thin saw blade through the hole...

Then saws out the area.

Once he cuts out all the required areas, he hands the piece to one of the company's carvers.

These artisans apprentice for years with the master carver to learn this ancient craft.

Working with a collection of chisels, they gradually follow the pattern.

It takes tremendous talent and skill to know how to read a drawing and, bit by bit, transform the flat wood beneath it into a three-dimensional design.

Once all the components are ready, workers assemble the sideboard from the footed base upward.

The drawers move on modern drawer slides, and the cabinet doors attach with bronze chinese-style hardware.

They bring out the rich color and grain of the wood with four coats of traditional lacquer made entirely from tree sap.

It highlights the etched details in the mother-of-pearl and protects the sideboard with a glossy shield.

Light switches put a lot of power at your fingertips.

One quick flick, and the lights go on or off.

When switches are paired with sockets, appliances and gadgetry can also be powered up.

Invented as an improvement over pull cords a century ago, switches deliver power to the people.

Flip a switch, and the world instantly becomes a brighter place.

Switches give us power over electrical power.

Making switches starts with big sheets of metal.

In this case, the sheets are brass.

A worker serves them up to a hydraulic guillotine.

It chops the brass into strips that will be used to make faceplates for custom-sized switches and sockets.

For switches that are a standard size, they simply order the strips precut.

Computerized punches cut holes and rough out both the faceplates and the steel grids that hold the electrical structure together.

All the holes in the grid plates will correspond to holes in the faceplates in order to put the two together.

These plates are for switches that will be installed in hotel rooms, and they will include sockets for three-pin british plugs.

Next, more steel unwinds into a punch press, which transforms it into a framework to support the electrical components.

The automated tooling wraps the punched metal around a form to give it the desired shape.

This framework will also serve as an electrical grounding plate, discharging electrical energy from the socket to prevent shocks.

A worker now attaches a molded plastic part to a grounding plate.

He inserts a screw in a brass connector and installs it in a slot in the molded plastic.

He installs a series of brass terminals.

At the next station, a worker assembles fuse holders, contacts, and springs to the plastic structure.

Next up are little spring- operated plastic shutters.

They block the sockets when nothing is plugged into them.

Moving down the assembly line, a worker inserts springs into twin rocker switches.

She lowers a press to squeeze all the switch components together, then transfers the switches to the electrical unit.

Another technician snaps a cover onto it.

He plugs it into a light box to test it, and the bulbs of the box illuminate.

This confirms that the switches and sockets are fully operational.

He pulls the plug and sets the assembly aside.

It has taken roughly four minutes to assemble the switch and socket unit.

A worker now fits the steel grid plate to it with the switches and sockets protruding through it.

This particular unit is also equipped with a round european plug and a usb charging port for mobile devices.

At the next station, an operator serves up brass faceplates to a press that bends the rims, forming a thin lip that will fit around the grid plate.

A computerized welder fuses studs to the back of the faceplates, placing one at each corner.

These studs will fix the faceplate to the grid plate and provide a screwless finish on the front.

When it comes to switch and socket combinations, there's no shortage of options.

At this station, a worker assembles a particularly large one with switches, charging ports, and sockets.

It's also designed for installation in a hotel room.

He secures the charging port to the grid plate and is ready for the faceplate.

He attaches it using the welded studs, and with the folded edging, it encases the grid plate neatly.

This switch and socket assembly is now complete.

When switched on, the circuit will be closed, and the electrical current will flow.

When switched off, the circuit will open, and things will go dark.

It should work every time.

In many east asian cultures, salt is not traditionally used as a condiment.

In its place, cooks use high-sodium sauces such as fish sauce.

In thailand, fish sauce is a key ingredient in traditional dishes, giving them a rich and distinctive savory taste.

Used in cooking or as a dipping sauce, thai fish sauce brings out the flavors of other ingredients.

Fish sauce is made by fermenting two parts fish with one part salt.

Over time, the salt will naturally extract water from the fish's flesh, creating the savory sauce.

The factory processes 100 tons of fish every day.

They use wild-caught anchovies from the gulf of thailand.

Anchovies have a strong flavor, so even small amounts can be used to flavor dishes.

They mix two parts fish with one part natural sea salt.

The ingredients fall down a chute into a rotating drum.

As it spins, it evenly mixes the salt and the fish.

This is faster than mixing by hand, ensuring quicker processing times.

When the mix is ready, it's taken to one of the 3,000 fermentation wells on-site.

The bottom of the well is already filled with sea salt.

They add the salt-fish mixture and spread it around so that the surface is flat.

They finish by covering the mixture with a thick layer of sea salt.

Each fermentation well can hold 10 tons of fish and salt.

They cover the well with a cement corrugated sheet.

The temperature inside can reach 104 degrees fahrenheit.

They sometimes remove the cover to expose the sauce to sunlight.

From time to time, they sample the sauce for inspection.

Salt crystals form naturally on the surface.

After 12 to 18 months of fermentation, first-grade sauce is pumped out from the bottom of the fermentation well with layers of salt acting as a natural filter.

Fish sauce is stored in large fiberglass tanks.

Employees take samples and send them to the lab for quality testing.

After filtering and sweetening the sauce slightly with 5% sugar, they are ready for bottling.

After a visual inspection, bottles head to the filling area.

The machine grabs each bottle and fills it from the bottom up.

Fish sauce does not need to be pasteurized as filtration has already eliminated most bacteria.

Also, the sauce contains over 25% salt.

This high-sodium content prevents any harmful bacteria from proliferating.

Because of the sauce's intense flavor, it is generally used in moderation.

So bottle caps have a small dropper hole to facilitate use of the sauce during cooking.

Next, brushes apply adhesive labels to the body and neck of the bottle.

This factory produces three different grades of fish sauce for a total of 15 million liters every year.

After a second visual inspection, bottles proceed to the packing department.

The machine pushes them forward, aligning them in position.

By now, the bottle caps have been safety-sealed.

A robotic carrier picks up 36 bottles to fill three boxes at once.

A metal frame keeps the carton cases open as the machine inserts the bottles.

The tasty sauce will be sold locally or exported to one of 70 different countries.

In the food-science laboratory, technicians perform several quality-control tests.

They start by measuring the salt content of the product as the salt will affect the taste and the shelf life of the sauce.

Next, they measure the protein content.

Fish protein breaks down during the fermentation process, releasing a compound called glutamate.

Glutamate increases the flavor intensity of the sauce.

Higher levels of protein give a tastier, higher-grade sauce.

They also check the levels of histamine to make sure they comply with international food standards.

High levels of histamine could indicate spoilage.

They end with a ph test.

Good fish sauce is slightly acidic, and the ph value must remain within an acceptable range.

People now use fish sauce not only in thai dishes, but also to flavor their own traditional foods.

Cappers are automated machines which apply caps on bottles that have been filled with a factory product-- anything from shampoo to soft drinks.

The closures the cappers apply include screw caps, push-down tops, and aluminum caps molded to the shape of the bottle neck.

Cappers come in different sizes to meet the product manufacturers' packaging requirements, from three-head machines that cap 40 bottles per minute, to 36-head machines that cap 1,200 bottles per minute.

Every capper is custom-designed for the product being packaged, so producers must supply the capper manufacturer with samples of their specific bottles and caps.

The first step of the design phase is to paint the samples white so that engineers can scan them with a laser to produce a three-dimensional computer model.

Then the engineers use that virtual bottle and cap to design the machine's bottle-handling equipment.

This refers to the components which transport the bottles through the machine as opposed to the components that apply the cap.

This computer-guided water-jet cutter slices through a stainless-steel plate to make the bases that support the bottle-handling equipment on the capper from underneath.

A computer-guided machining center shapes the complex bottle-handling components out of stainless-steel rods.

The capper's bottle-capping components are machined the same way.

Every part undergoes a precision inspection.

An engineer checks the dimensions with a device called a coordinate measuring machine.

A computer-guided router cuts the plastic components of the bottle-handling equipment from a 19-millimeter-thick sheet of polyethylene.

Meanwhile, an electrician wires the capper's control panel.

It houses the components which regulate the machine's speed, as well as the computer that controls all the machine's functions.

The machine has sensors that detect the presence of a bottle and cap at the capping head.

These sensors are wired to the computer.

Other workers assemble the production-line conveyor belt that ferries bottles into and out of the capper.

The belt is comprised of plastic links connected with pins.

To begin assembling the machine, workers attach the three capping heads to the overhead carousel.

Then they install a capping chuck in each head.

The chuck picks up a cap.

Then the capping head rotates to screw the cap on the bottle.

A computer-guided engraver labels the capper's infeed star wheel-- a disc with pockets that guide the bottles into the machine.

Workers highlight the engraving with paint and inset a colored disc indicating the specific bottle size the star wheel is designed to run.

They repeat these steps with the machine's two other star wheels-- one in the center of the machine that moves the bottles under the capping heads and another that transfers the bottles to the machine's exit.

Workers manually assemble each star wheel.

They verify the pocket size...

Then, on the center star wheel only, bolt a stainless-steel reinforcement layer and line the pockets with a rubber material that grips bottles.

After installing the metal support bases on the capper, they mount the corresponding star wheels.

The center star wheel and base have to be made in halves to fit around the machine's central shaft.

Workers install the center guide.

The bottles travel in the path between the wheels and the guide.

Next, workers install a restraint belt made of the same rubber material that lines the center star wheel pockets.

The belt and pocket prevent the bottle from spinning as the capping head screws on the cap.

No capper leaves the factory without a test run.

Before running the machine normally, workers run it at low speed to check that the components are properly aligned and the movements correctly timed.

The infeed star wheel receiving the bottles transfers them to the center star wheel under the capping heads.

The capped bottles then transfer to the discharge star wheel, which guides them to the conveyor belt leading to the labeling machine.


CCD Semiconductors
Airline Meals
Paper Cups
Trumpets

Today on "how it's made," ccd semiconductors...

Airline meals...

Paper cups...

And trumpets.

A ccd semiconductor is the image sensor in a digital camera or camcorder.

When you snap the shutter or press record, you expose the ccd to patterns of light.

It captures them electronically by converting them into millions of electrical charges.

The camera's processor then reads these charges and translates them into pictures or movies.

Ccds, or charge couple devices, are made of silicon, the main element in sand.

What's special about silicon?

When light hits it, you get electrons.

Production begins with a round silicon wafer six inches in diameter and about as thick as a shirt cardboard.

It goes into a steam oven for three to four hours.

The intense heat, along with oxygen and hydrogen gases in the steam, create a glass-like layer on the wafer.

This insulates the silicon against the miniature electrical circuitry that will be built on top of it.

But first, the wafer is covered in conductive material.

This layer measures less than a micron.

A human hair is 100 times thicker.

Next, a robot applies a one-micron-thick layer of photo-sensitive resin, which will undergo a chemical reaction when exposed to light.

A technician places a mask over the wafer.

The pattern on this mask is the scheme attic for part of the circuitry.

When you take a picture, you expose the silicon wafer to light and that generates electrons.

The circuitry carries those electrons to the camera's processor, which reads the charges and translates them into an image.

This machine exposes the masked wafer to ultraviolet light.

The resin underneath the circuitry pattern remains intact, protecting the conductive layer beneath it.

The resin on the areas not masked by the circuitry pattern needs to be removed.

Chemicals are sprayed on.

This dissolves the resin exposing the conductive layer underneath.

Technicians repeat this entire process with anywhere from 13 to 30 masks until they've built up the full circuitry pattern on the wafer.

Next, technicians submerge the wafer in acid, which eats away the uncovered conductive layer.

So, now, the only conductive material left on the wafer is the actual circuitry.

Next step, a thorough rinsing in tap water to remove the residue.

Then a rinse with purified water to remove any impurities left by the tap water.

Throughout production, contamination is a concern.

A single speck of dust can ruin an entire wafer.

To protect and insulate the circuitry, the wafer is coated in liquid glass, then baked for two hours, until the glass hardens.

The wafer surface is divided into 25 million tiny square cells called pixels.

When you take a photo, each pixel records the light intensity of a minute portion of the scene, generating an electrical charge.

A filter on the ccd translates each pixel charge into color.

The company makes this filter with three pigment powders-- red, green and blue.

These three colors combined in varying ratios can reproduce any color.

The camera's processor reads and then reconstructs the photograph scene pixel by pixel.

Each finished ccd undergoes a battery of automated tests to ensure that all the circuits are functional.

The machine marks faulty circuits with ink.

Just one bad circuit means the entire ccd needs to be discarded.

Technicians then check every ccd under a microscope looking for scratches that might have occurred during the production process.

The number of pixels on a ccd varies depending on what type of camera it's for.

This one is a 25 megapixel ccd, meaning it has 25 million pixels.

This company even produces a single ccd that has 111 megapixels.

So the next time you say, "cheese," remember that you're producing a digital photo thanks to all that painstaking work that went into the sophisticated ccd semiconductor inside your camera.

When we return, creating the ultimate to-go meals for today's highflyers.

In the earliest days of air travel, passengers really lived the high life.

They were served multi-course meals that were actually prepared during flight.

But as air travel boomed, this kind of service became impractical, and airlines turned to premade meals.

Not all food fares well at high altitudes.

That's why you don't see any souffles at 30,000 feet.

They couldn't possibly rise to the occasion.

It's just one of the restrictions airline chefs need to consider when preparing a menu.

Airline meals start with tons of ingredients, literally.

Just one facility can turn out 45,000 meals in a single day.

Of course, the cooks wash their hands very thoroughly because they don't want any germs stowed away in the meal.

They cook on grills that are five feet long.

At one end, they stir-fry vegetables, while at the other, they sauté potatoes.

Then, they spice it up.

Airline food isn't as bland as it's reputed to be.

Researchers believe that low humidity and the pressurized environment cause our taste buds to work less efficiently in an airplane, something to take into account when you're traveling by air.

Recipes vary according to the route.

Flights to more exotic locales will offer spicier dishes, while a domestic north american flight usually calls for more moderate seasoning.

Cooks fire up different grills for the meat.

They prepare food for the crew as well as the passengers.

On many airlines, the pilot and co-pilot must eat different meals to minimize the risk of food-related illness compromising the flight.

The cooked food will now be blast chilled in special fridges.

Cooks scrub up again as they prepare to assemble the meals.

They start with the food that needs to be reheated on the plane.

It goes into foil containers.

Smaller containers inside help control the portion sizes.

Cooks must be careful not to overstuff them because that could cause messy spills later.

A little sauce and a generous dab of herb butter, and you have the makings of a first-class meal.

Finally, the food is covered with a vented lid.

With each menu change, chefs must meet with airline representatives.

They serve up sample dishes and discuss the ingredients with them.

There's often a lot of negotiation before the final menu is agreed upon.

Every detail about an airline meal is carefully planned right down to the plates and bowls and how they're placed on the serving tray.

It takes a bit of arranging to make everything fit.

Once planners finalize the arrangements, they follow that formula in the kitchen.

As with any meal, presentation counts for a lot.

Of course, meals in economy class are more simple, and the planning less detailed.

The food-laden trays go onto trolleys and are rolled into a big, refrigerated room, where they're arranged according to the flight number.

They won't be here for long because every meal is made to be served that day.

And all the groundwork beforehand is sure to pay off once passengers and crew are in the air.

Up next, a popular product that lets us all enjoy one for the road.

The paper cup was invented around the turn of the 20th century to stop the spread of disease.

Today, it's an integral part of our culture.

Paper cups provide a convenient and hygienic way to serve food and beverages, and the lining of water-tight plastic or wax prevents any nasty leaks.

And where would we be without our disposable coffee cups?

Production starts with paper that has a thin plastic coating.

It unrolls into a printer that's as long as a bowling lane.

As the paper weaves through the machine, printing cylinders layer an image onto the paper one color at a time.

When the image is complete, a rotary die cuts the paper into what's called a flat.

The dimensions of the flat vary depending on the size of the cup being made.

Each flat will eventually become a paper cup.

They land on a conveyor in a shingle-like lineup.

A computerized system counts the flats and divvies them up into stacks of 200.

The flats drop into an elevator stacker.

It creates piles that workers can easily collect.

They load them into another conveyor in a different part of the factory.

It moves the flats in a vibrating shuffle up into the cup machine.

Meanwhile, a roll of paper winds into the other side of that machine, where a die punches out bottoms for the paper cups.

This leaves a long strip of scrap paper which gets sucked away for recycling.

Meanwhile, the flats are relayed to a carousel.

Now the paper cup takes shape.

Mechanical jaws wrap each flat, and a heat gun seals the seam.

And now, you have a paper cup with no bottom.

That crucial step comes next.

Bottoms are shoved onto the cups and heat-sealed in place by melting the plastic backing on the unprinted side of the paper.

The cups then fall down a chute to the next operation, which will give the cups a rim and allow you to take a sip without spilling.

A hot tool curls the top edge of the paper.

Then, the vacuum sucks each cup into ductwork overhead.

Each piece of ductwork comes from a different production line.

There are big cups and small cups, all traveling to the packing department, where they land in stacking tubes.

A counter keeps a running tally and portions out the stacks.

The stacks then slide into a curtain of plastic.

Hot jaws seal the plastic wrap around the stack.

And now, the cups are ready to be packed and shipped.

Meanwhile, over in the testing department, this is no coffee break.

Inspectors have pulled some cups off the production line to check for leaks.

A mirror below reflects the bottom line, but leaks are one in a million, so they made one leak deliberately for demonstration.

In the case of a real leak, production is halted and inspectors follow the paper trail until they determine the problem.

It takes about a minute to transform pieces of paper into a cup.

Now, it's time to hit the road without any leakage.

When we return, a factory with something to trumpet about.

The ancestor of the modern trumpet was a straight horn that could emit just a few notes.

By the 15th century, instrument makers learned how to bend a horn, allowing for more notes to be produced.

The invention of the valve in the mid-1800s finally allowed the trumpet to play in any key.

A trumpet is made up of five feet of tubing.

Three valves allow air to flow through additional tubing to alter the trumpet's pitch.

Trumpets are made from sheets of metal, most often brass.

This factory combines different thicknesses of brass in a single instrument to attain a particular sound.

Workers first lay a template on a brass sheet and trace it out.

Then they cut along the score line with electric shears.

This piece will become the trumpet's bell.

A manually operated press forms a perfect fold down the middle.

Then, they notch the edges.

Then, they close up the bell by hammering the notched pieces onto the opposite edge.

They use a rawhide mallet because anything harder would damage the brass.

A brass alloy is melted along the joint.

It solidifies in a metal seam that permanently bonds the edges.

Next, the bell goes over a cone-shaped mandril where the brass is hammered until it, too, is cone-shaped.

Then the bell goes onto another mandril mounted on a lathe.

Here, the brass cone is refined into a more refined shape.

Then, the metal is filed smooth.

Now for the bell's rim, called the bead.

A brass rod with a notch at the end catches the edge of the bell and rolls it back into a rim.

Metalworkers use what's called a concave roller to round the rim's jagged edge.

Then they slide a brass alloy wire into the rim pocket.

This makes the bell stronger and adds weight to the edge of the flare to project the sound better.

They roll the rim over even more to enclose the wire.

Now they heat the rim and apply acid flux to clean the surface for soldering.

Silver solder ensures the wire won't rattle when the bell vibrates.

After wiping off the excess flux, the bell goes back on the lathe to scrape off the excess solder.

Using an abrasive sponge, workers smooth away any scratches left by the scraper.

Then, they remove any solder bits trapped in the rim.

Now, the entire bell is filled with a soapy solution.

Then, it's frozen at minus 56 degrees.

When the solution is frozen, the bell goes into a bending block.

The frozen solution provides counter pressure, preventing the brass from buckling inward, and because there's soap mixed in, the pliable ice doesn't shatter under the pressure.

After the angle of the bend is checked with a gauge, the bell is defrosted.

In the mounting department, workers assemble smaller components made of brass and nickel.

Valve casings, the sliding tubes to which they connect, the slide for tuning the trumpet, the pipe that holds the mouthpiece, then they solder on the bell.

They lubricate three pistons and install one in each valve casing.

These slides have to be loose enough to move but tight enough to prevent air leaks.

One slide has a finger ring for holding the trumpet.

After polishing and lacquering the brass, workers test the trumpet for sound quality.

This is one company that likes to blow its own horn.