Classic Car Gauges
Chocolate Marble Cake
Ghillie Kettles
Rubber Gloves

They may have stopped making the car.

But they still manufacture replacement gauges that look just like the originals.

After all, modern digital instruments just wouldn't look right in the dashboard of a classic vehicle.

Technicians give the mechanism a bit of an update, but the look is all retro.

These car gauges are new.

But they have the same old faces.

The old-style dials are built to the original designs as replacement parts for classic and vintage vehicles.

Making a classic car gauge starts with a zinc-coated steel blank.

A worker places the blank on a tool.

A press stretches it around the form to shape it into the gauge case.

After a flange has been formed on the rim and holes punched for assembly purposes, it's on to the next operation.

A worker welds a stud to the back of the case.

The stud will be used to mount the gauge to the dashboard.

Another worker paints the inside of the case white.

Next up is a brass tube for the light bulb.

A worker secures it in a fixture and places the case over it.

A press crimps the top of the light tube around one of the holes in the case, securing the tube to the back.

A mechanized printer pad picks up ink from engravings on a metal plate and transfers them to a dial.

For this gauge, they'll need a hollow, curved spring, known as a bourdon tube.

To shape this flat brass tube into a spring, a worker tucks one end into a forming tool.

He inserts a shim into the other end to keep the tube hollow as he curls it around the form.

This turns the flat tube into a c-shape spring.

He then crimps one end in this press.

He dips the crimped end into a chemical cleaning agent and then into hot solder.

The solder hardens and seals this end of the bourdon spring.

He solders a brass adapter to the opened end of the bourdon tube.

This hollow socket is the part that will receive the fluid pressure.

That pressure will cause the tube to unwind and move gears that turn the pointer on the gauge dial.

A worker places the tube in water and pumps pressurized air into it through the socket.

He checks for bubbles that would indicate there's a leak.

They make the gears that move the pointer using a hobbing machine.

It's a spinning cutter that carves teeth into brass parts, known as racks.

A worker inserts a brass pivot in a holding device.

Using a press, she crimps the pivot to the center of the rack.

She then assembles a hair spring and a pinion between two brass plates.

She positions the rack in the gear sandwich.

She secures the assembly using a hand press.

Now, with tweezers, she pulls the end of the spring through a hole in one of the posts and locks it in place with a pin.

She turns the shaft to confirm that the rack-and-pinion gears engage and work smoothly.

Returning to the bourdon tubes, she transfers one to a fixture and locks it in place.

She places the gears on top of the bourdon tube and screws it to the side of the socket.

She then installs the bourdon tube assembly in the gas gauge casing.

A worker now connects the gauge to a pressurized air source.

She pops the retro-look dial into the device and attaches the pointer to the protruding gear shaft.

She then introduces air at a known pressure to calibrate the gauge.

She tucks a gasket into the top rim and then fits a glass pane on top.

A chrome-plated bezel retains the assembly and frames it.

A press snaps the components together.

Made to measure, this car gauge is now complete, and it looks like a classic.

A chocolate truffle cake has nothing to do with those rare and pricey fungi that are a culinary delicacy, nor is it directly related to the chocolate truffle, a decadent confection consisting of a chocolate ganache center coated in either chocolate, cocoa powder, or toasted, chopped nuts.

A chocolate truffle cake has many variations.

This version features a flourless chocolate truffle cake base under a layer of chocolate marble cheesecake, garnished with fudge ganache.

To make the cheesecake layer, they begin with cream cheese.

They mix for three or four minutes to soften it, then blend in sugar and salt.

Next, they add sour cream to make the cheesecake creamier and fluffier.

The last ingredients are whole eggs blended with vanilla extract.

Another three to four minutes of mixing completes the batter.

To make the chocolate truffle cake base, they combine water, sugar, corn syrup, and cream of tartar, which is a leavening agent that works in flourless cakes like this one.

It also prevents the sugar they just added from crystallizing.

While heating those ingredients to a boil, they soften butter in a mixer, then add melted semisweet chocolate, which contains vanilla extract.

They mix for another five minutes or so until the chocolate is thoroughly blended in.

Then they add the boiled ingredients, then coffee syrup...

Then blended whole eggs.

A final five minutes of mixing, and the chocolate truffle cake batter is ready.

They pump it into the funnel-shaped feeder of a depositor.

Workers meanwhile line aluminum cake pans with silicone and place them on a conveyor belt.

The depositor is set up to squirt exactly 28 ounces of the thick chocolate truffle cake batter into each pan.

They pump the thinner cheesecake batter to the feeder of a second depositor, which squirts an identical amount of cheesecake batter into the pan.

This batter is much lighter than the dense chocolate truffle cake batter.

So rather than blend, the two batters form separate layers.

Using the squeeze bottle, they drizzle on some extra chocolate truffle cake batter and drag a knife back and forth, creating what's known in pastry making as a napoleon-style design.

They put the pans in the oven for 90 minutes at 90 degrees fahrenheit.

The long baking time at a relatively low temperature ensures the heat penetrates the dense truffle batter gradually.

Otherwise, the outside of the cake would burn before the inside is fully baked.

The cakes cool at room temperature, then go into a freezer overnight.

The next day, workers easily pop the rock-solid cakes from the pans thanks to that silicone liner.

They place the cake on a cardboard circle, then, with a pastry bag, garnish the edge with fudge ganache.

The ganache is made of heavy cream, corn syrup and the same melted chocolate they put in the truffle cake batter.

They placed the finished chocolate marble truffle cake into an automatic cake slicer.

The turntable rotates after each strike of the blade until the machine has cut the cake into 12 slices and separated them with paper dividers.

They wrap the cake in a cardboard band printed with the brand name.

Then they put the dessert through a machine, which encases the cake in plastic film, then applies heat to shrink the film taut.

To serve this decadent dessert, you let it defrost at room temperature for four to five hours or in the fridge overnight.

Impatient chocoholics take note-- you can also defrost a slice in the microwave in just 30 seconds.

Invented in the 1890s by irish fishermen, the ghillie kettle is still popular off the beaten path.

Simply stuff twigs, leaves or other scraps in the bottom chamber and ignite.

The water in the surrounding chamber boils in minutes, allowing you to have a quick cuppa in the middle of nowhere.

Roughing it in the wilderness?

With the ghillie kettle, you can still have a civilized cup of tea unplugged.

Making a ghillie kettle starts with a thick aluminum disk.

A metalworker clamps the disk against a form in a lathe.

As the lathe spins, he presses the disk to the form using a blunt tool.

This transforms the disk into a flared vessel, one that looks like a flower pot.

A cutter at the side trims the rim.

They call this flower-pot shape the draft.

The next phase takes the draft from flared to cylindrical.

A worker presses the spinning draft to another form.

This stretches the aluminum shape longer and narrower.

Finally, they taper the cylinder at the top to form a slanted chimney and slice off the bottom.

From flat disk to a tall kettle, it's a dramatic change.

He drills a hole in the gradient of the kettle.

He inserts a screw that's attached to a punch.

Then, using an allen wrench, he turns the screw, forcing the punch into the metal to cut out a hole for the kettle spout.

He now slides the kettle body over a post with a die that fits into the spout hole.

He places the spout over the die and hammers it into the hole.

The die helps form the seam as the metal spreads due to the impact, tightly locking the spout to the kettle body.

A worker transfers the kettle to a jig with a template for drilling.

He drills holes into the kettle body, relying on the template to space them correctly.

These holes are for the handle and chain attachments.

Next, the inner wall of the ghillie kettle takes shape.

Wielding a tool with force, a worker pulls and stretches the aluminum disk into a long cone.

He inserts the cone in the kettle body.

A gap between them will serve as the water chamber.

And smoke will be vented out the center.

He rolls the upper lip of the cone around the kettle's top rim, locking them together.

He also secures them at the base the same way.

He transfers the ghillie kettle to a stand to keep it upright as he rivets steel ears to it.

The ears are for attaching the handle and a chain for the kettle whistle.

He now assembles the whistle.

He aligns a gap in a round plate with one in the whistle body.

This small gap will allow steam to pass through.

He inserts a screw and a ball knob in the center hole to hold the whistle together.

The base of the ghillie is this fire chamber.

For packing purposes, he stacks it upside down and places the kettle over it.

He wraps the entire kettle in british newsprint for shipping.

This protects it and also gives the purchaser something to burn the first time he or she tries it out.

He crimps the ends of the handle to the ears that protrude through the headlines.

He places the whistle over the wrapped spout and then tucks the kettle into a drawstring tote.

This ghillie kettle is ready to provide the convenience of hot water in the backwoods.

The camper removes the whistle from the spout and pours water into it.

This particular model can hold about 51 ounces.

He replaces the whistle and lights the fire in the bottom chamber.

As it burns, smoke comes out of the center.

The cone-shaped cavity creates an upward draft, ensuring rapid boiling even in windy or damp weather.

Within minutes, there's hot water for beverages or soup noodles.

Smoking and whistling in the wilderness, the ghillie kettle offers some of the comforts of home.

It was an american nurse's sensitivity to an antiseptic that led to the development of medical rubber gloves.

The year was 1890, and the hospital was johns hopkins in baltimore.

Sympathetic to the nurse's plight, the chief of surgery asked a rubber company to develop protective gloves.

Around the world, healing hands wear rubber gloves to stop the spread of germs and save lives.

To make them, they need a lot of hands, the kind made from ceramic or aluminum.

They'll serve as molds.

First, they need to remove residue from the last rubber glove production.

So they do a thorough washing in soapy water...

And then in bleach.

They must remove every speck of residue because even the smallest contaminant could lodge in the latex rubber gloves and create holes.

Leaving the bleach, the ceramic hands twirl into round, revolving brushes.

Their bristles scour the surface and the hard-to-reach areas between the ceramic fingers.

After this thorough scrubbing, the hand molds dive into a tub of hot water.

It's the last cleaning before production begins.

As they exit the tub, the hands swivel on the rail carrier to drip-dry.

Still slightly damp and spinning, the hand molds head into a chemical bath, which forms a film on the surface.

It's a critical coating because liquid rubber won't adhere to bare ceramic, but it will to this substance.

The ceramic molds now reach into warm liquid rubber, which has been enhanced for extra strength.

The liquid rubber reacts with the chemical coating on the hands and becomes gel-like.

Coated with the rubber gel, the hands spin to shake off any drops as they head into an oven.

Under intense heat, the rubber dries to the hand form and also undergoes a chemical process, called vulcanization, that makes the rubber stronger and elastic.

After a wash and dry, the gloves spin through brushes which roll up the cuffs.

This cuff roll, called the bead, has a specific purpose-- it makes it easier to pull the rubber glove off the mold.

Workers grab the gloves by the beads to peel them off the ceramic forms.

These particular medical gloves were molded from synthetic rubber for people who can't wear natural latex rubber due to allergies.

These synthetic rubber gloves are a bit stickier than the natural latex ones.

And they must be removed by hand.

However, the natural latex glove come off much more easily.

Bursts of pressurized air blow these gloves off the ceramic forms.

At a test station, a worker now stretches and inflates each medical glove to check for weak spots and holes.

Even a pinhole leak would be cause for rejection.

Next, they take a sample glove from every batch and pump water into it, again checking for leaks.

If the sample glove is watertight, they approve the entire batch for shipment.

They color-code gloves for strength.

These orange cleaning gloves are thick and reusable.

Others, like the medical gloves, are for limited use and disposable.

Each rubber formulation is customized for color, strength, and other characteristics.

It has taken a lot of fake hands and real ones to make rubber gloves.

And it all happens very fast.

They manufacture 200 rubber gloves a minute at this factory.

That's about 12,000 gloves per hour.

They pack them up in batches of 100.

A cornstarch solution applied earlier keeps them from sticking together in the box.

Later, that starch will also act as a lubricant to allow the gloves to slide easily onto hands.

And with that, these rubber gloves are ready to protect the public.


Tissues
Travel Trailers
Slippers
Motorcycle Helmets

The origin of facial tissue may be japanese.

A 17th-century historical account describes japanese blowing their noses in small, soft papers, then throwing them on the ground.

Modern-day tissues were first marketed in the early 1920s as a disposable cloth for wiping off cold cream.

While some sneezers still prefer traditional cloth handkerchiefs, the disposable paper tissue is the implement of choice with the sniffling and lens-cleaning masses.

This brand is made entirely of recycled paper-- specifically, used computer-printer paper because its short, flexible fibers produce soft tissue.

The ½-ton bales go into a giant machine called the pulper.

It breaks up the paper into fibers and mixes them with water.

The result is called pulp.

Next, it injects the pulp with air.

This causes the ink to detach from the fibers and cling to the air bubbles, which rise to the top and drain off.

The machine then feeds the now-ink-free pulp through several rollers.

Like an old-fashioned ringer washing machine, the rollers squeeze out the dirty water.

A screw conveyor then breaks up the pulp and moves it to the next station, which rinses it with clean water.

Now the pulp is ready to become tissue.

That transformation begins in the paper machine.

It injects the pulp evenly across the screen conveyor belt.

Then the pulp passes through rollers that press out the water.

The extracted water drains down through the screen.

The pulp then passes through a hot-air dryer and exits the machine as a thin, 10-foot-wide sheet of paper.

Each jumbo roll coming off the machine contains about 37 miles of paper.

The converting machine is the giant contraption that now transforms this paper into tissues.

The first station unwinds two rolls of paper, applying modest tension to remove waves and wrinkles.

The next station mates the two papers, producing a two-ply sheet.

The following station holds the sheets steady with suction as a knife slices across it every 8½ inches.

You can see the cuts in slow motion.

At the next station, these two-ply sheets meet up with two-ply sheets coming from the opposite direction.

Here's what that looks like in slow motion....

And at full speed.

The sheets enter a mechanism that folds them in half in an interlocking fashion.

In slow motion, you can see how they interlock-- each sheet folded in half, one side inserted into the fold of the next sheet.

This happens at a speed of 16 folds per second.

This produces a huge stack of folded tissue 5 feet wide.

The next station separates the big stack into small ones in preparation for the final cutting.

Each smaller stack contains the precise number of tissues the tissue box will contain, from 80 to 250 sheets, depending on the format they're packaging.

The smaller stacks now travel to the next station, where an automated circular saw cuts every 8 inches, producing the final tissue size.

The interlocking folds ensure that when you pull out one tissue, it draws the next out of the box, ready to use.

To produce three-ply tissues, the converting machine processes six rolls into two sheets of three plies each, then folds them in the same interlocking fashion.

The finished tissues travel by conveyor belt to the automated packaging line.

A robot with multiple suction-cupped arms grabs flattened boxes one at a time, opens them, and lines them up on another conveyor belt running alongside the tissue belt.

An automated arm compresses the tissues and slides them into the box.

The next station glues the flaps closed.

The top of the box has a removable tab with clear plastic film underneath.

A tight slot in the film makes grabbing a single tissue a nonissue.

Hitching a travel trailer to your vehicle is the ideal solution if you yearn to travel freely with all the conveniences of home or love camping but want far more comfort than a tent has to offer.

Today's trailers come equipped with beds, mini kitchen, dinette, toilet, and shower.

This 16-foot-long travel trailer is made of aluminum and composite materials.

Unlike traditional fiberglass trailers, there's no steel or wood in the structure, so it's resistant to both rock and corrosion.

It's ultra lightweight and has a pop-up roof with windows.

The trailer's a-shaped chassis is made entirely of aluminum.

The only steel components are the tongue that attaches the trailer to the vehicle's hitch and the axle.

Workers insulate both with duct tape.

They bolt the axle, with brakes installed, to the chassis, then line the chassis with styrofoam insulation.

This prevents the copper propane line from touching the aluminum.

Contact between the two metals can trigger corrosion.

Next, they mount the trailer's plastic freshwater and waste-water tanks, then glue the aluminum floor to the chassis.

Other workers construct the trailer's two side walls as a single piece.

On a large vacuum press, they spread glue onto an aluminum sheet.

Then they lay down the wall's core, a honeycomb-shaped sheet of polypropylene.

They coat it with glue, then top it with another sheet of aluminum.

The honeycomb core makes the wall rigid while adding minimal weight.

They cover this sandwich with a protective fabric sheet, then with an airtight cover.

After sealing the perimeter, they vacuum out the air for about four hours.

This pulls everything tight, compressing the glued layers so that they fully adhere to each other.

When the wall comes out of the press, they lay down templates and, with a router, cut it into two side walls.

They also make openings for windows...

And holes for trailer lights.

After inserting a rubber seal in each hole, they install the lights.

Next, a porthole-style tinted upper window.

They glue it into the round opening just like a car windshield.

The side walls are now ready.

Workers affix them to the floor with an l-shaped aluminum bracket.

Once the walls are up, workers saw out a door opening, then install the door, sliding windows, toilet cabinet, king-size bed, dining table, and kitchen unit, which has a sink and propane stove.

They install a rubber-sealed trapdoor into an opening in one wall.

This gives outside access to a storage area about the size of a large suitcase.

Upholstered cushions hide under-the-seat storage compartments in the dining area.

They construct the roof the same way as the walls, only in a teardrop-shaped vacuum press.

This aerodynamic shape creates 75% less drag than a traditional box-shaped trailer roof.

When the trailer is parked, you can raise the roof to reveal fixed windows on both sides.

Workers glue this tinted, tempered glass to each aluminum window frame, glue the frames to the roof, then install taillights, roof vents, and solar panels to recharge the battery powering the lights, vent, and water pump.

They install the roof, then mount a hinged back wall.

With assembly finally complete, workers apply decals and test all appliances and systems.

Cables connect the roof to the back wall, so when the roof lifts, it pulls up the otherwise-collapsed wall.

The trailer's interior layout is versatile.

The king-size bed converts into two twin beds, and the dining table can be moved to create two distinct dining areas, a two-seat and a five-seat dinette-- all the comforts and amenities of home on wheels.

There's nothing like a pair of slippers to soothe your tired tootsies or warm your frigid feet.

Designed strictly for indoor use, slippers typically have a soft sole and looser fit and are made of supple, often cushy materials so that feet feel comfortable and cozy.

This style of slipper is known as charentaise, named after the region of charente in southwestern france where they originated in the 17th century.

The slippers are made primarily of felt, which is made from layers of compressed wool fibers.

This french slipper factory uses a particularly thick and durable type of felt composed of five wool-fiber layers.

To cut the soles, workers position a cookie-cutter-type die for the specific shoe size in production.

Then a 5-ton press forces it through the thick felt.

After cutting one sole of the pair, they turn the die in the opposite direction to cut the second sole.

Once the batch of soles is cut, they mark the size in ink with a rubber stamp.

For the rest of the slipper, called the upper, they use fabric that's felt on the outside, velvet on the inside.

The cutting process is the same as for the sole, with the die corresponding to the size in production.

Once the uppers are cut, workers lay a stencil of the embroidery pattern on each one and lightly mark the design in pencil.

Seamstresses embroider each slipper individually by a machine.

The yarn is made of hemp.

For this model, the design is applied in a chain stitch.

Felt flowers give the design three-dimensional features.

With the design complete, it's time to stitch the back of the upper closed.

Next, they cushion the opening at the top with velvet binding, bending the wide velvet ribbon over the edge of the felt so that the binding runs along both the inside and outside of the slipper.

They cover the back seam with a backstrap, a felt strip with a loop at the top through which you can put your finger to easily pull the slipper onto your foot.

Next, they turn the back of the upper inside out in order to attach the sole.

They position the sole 3/10 of an inch from the bottom edge, then, with hemp thread, straight-stitch along the entire perimeter of the upper.

They cut the slipper's insole from a fabric that's felt on one side and velvet on the other.

They position the felt side against the felt sole, then sew them together along the perimeter with a particular cross-shaped stitch traditionally used for the charentaise.

The inside felt's underside gives the slipper additional rigidity, while the soft velvet surface cushions the bottom of your foot.

The slipper is now fully constructed.

However, it's inside out.

So the next step is to turn the slipper right side out using this piece of equipment called a goat, perhaps because its shape resembles goat horns.

All that manipulation can slightly deform and crease the upper, so they put the slipper in a steam box for three minutes to soften the fibers, then on a foot-shaped aluminum press heated to 158 degrees fahrenheit.

The press irons out any remaining wrinkles and resets the shape.

This factory's charentaise-style slippers range from conservative to funky.

All are designed to be comfortable, cozy, and as the term "slippers" implies, easy to slip on or off.

The development of the motorcycle helmet happened by accident.

In 1935, the british war hero known as lawrence of arabia died from a head injury in a motorcycle crash.

He wasn't wearing a helmet.

That tragedy moved one of his doctors to research the safety potential of motorcycle helmets.

The motorcycle helmet is the most important part of the motorcyclist's safety gear.

Today, wearing one is a rule of the road in many places around the world.

Modern helmets are entirely synthetic.

They design them on a computer.

The software guides milling tools to produce a prototype from polyurethane foam.

The prototype gives them a good look at the helmet's shape and style.

Once they're satisfied with it, they build a metal mold for mass production.

The molding material is a pile of polycarbonate pellets.

It's the same thing used to make astronaut bubble helmets.

An injection molding machine melts the pellets and injects them into the two-part helmet mold.

The polycarbonate cools and solidifies into the shape of the mold.

The result is the outer shell of the helmet, complete with holes for vents and other parts.

Next, a robot grips the helmet's shell and moves it against a sanding belt to smooth the seam left by the mold.

The robot also gives the shell an overall polish.

It then goes for a spin as sprayers coat it with black paint.

A factory employee pulls a sheet of decals through water to lift them from the backing.

She applies the decals to a white, unpainted helmet.

It's a flashier look than basic black.

It takes practice to be able to apply the decals correctly because the helmet surface is complex and curvy.

She smoothes out air bubbles in preparation for the application of a protective clear coat.

The next assembler installs a pivot mechanism on each side of the helmet.

They'll enable the face shield and visor to be raised and lowered.

The hardware fits perfectly into the molded niches.

There's just enough room for the mechanism to operate smoothly.

She attaches the velour-lined chin strap with its quick-release mechanism to the outer shell.

Then these foam polystyrene pellets are transformed into the helmet's cushioning inner shell.

The pellets flow into another injection molding system.

A nozzle injects the melted polystyrene into the mold, and it takes the shape of shock-absorbing helmet liners.

The foam solidifies, and the machine ejects the completed liners.

The density of the polystyrene foam varies throughout the helmet for strategic shock resistance, enabling it to meet international safety requirements.

Padding in the crown and around the chin area makes it more comfortable to wear.

They now join the helmet's inner shell to the outer one.

After a liberal application of glue, she pushes the liner into the shell.

It's a snug fit, and it takes a bit of maneuvering to get it in there.

She attaches a robust chin guard to the helmet.

This molded polycarbonate part is designed to protect the lower half of the rider's face.

The assembler screws it to the helmet on both sides.

With this part in place, the rider should be able to take it on the chin if necessary.

A transparent polycarbonate face shield completes this motorcycle helmet.

And now a test.

They drop a helmet from a height of 10 feet to confirm it can take a fall without falling apart.

It survives, and the entire production batch is approved.

Designed for impact and made to specification, this helmet could just save your skull.


Throttle Bodies
Limestone Fireplace Mantels
Candied Fruit & Fruit Jellies
Linen Ukuleles

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

Throttle bodies.

Limestone fireplace mantels.

Candied fruit and fruit jellies.

And linen ukuleles.

the throttle body is a device that allows the engine of a fuel-injected vehicle to breathe.

Pressing on the accelerator pedal opens the throttle body's blades to allow air into the engine.

The greater the airflow, the higher the rpm.

All the driver has to do is step on the gas.

Designed for race cars, the throttle body could make the difference between winning and losing.

That's due to the way it delivers the air the engine needs for speed.

Making a throttle body starts with this solid aluminum disk.

A technician mounts it to a machining fixture and closes the door.

Computer controlled cutters move in.

The cutters reduce the thickness of the disk and contour it.

They also rough out the shape of four air passageways.

Then they flip the part over, and more cutting tools work on it from the other side.

The cutters open up the air passageways completely and create a hole in the center for a bolt.

The technician clamps a square chunk of aluminum in the fixture, and cutters transform it into the main body part.

This is a computer simulation of the process.

The tools carve four holes to match up to the ones on the top piece.

These holes will hold the throttle mechanisms.

The transformation takes just minutes.

With the parts now electrically charged, workers plunge them into a pool of chemicals called an etching bath.

The chemicals gravitate to the electrically charged parts and lightly etch the surface.

A dip in soapy water cleans the parts.

They are now ready for anodizing, a process that will form an anti-corrosion finish on the surface.

In the anodizing bath, an electrical charge causes a protective oxide layer to form on the metal, and black dye seeps into the pores.

Here are the parts before and after anodizing.

A laser then engraves the brand name onto the side of the throttle body part.

The etched aluminum wording stands out against the black anodized coating.

A technician then inserts two stainless steel shafts into sealed bearings in holes on the side.

When turned, the shafts will open and close the round throttle blades.

He installs retaining clips on the shafts.

This keeps them in place and centers them perfectly.

But at the same time, they allow the blades to turn freely.

He then screws round blades to the flat part of each shaft.

As the shafts turn, these blades will move into an open or closed position.

They'll act as valves, allowing air into the engine or shutting it off.

He attaches a mechanical linkage to the end of each shaft.

These linkages will ultimately be connected to a cable that runs to the gas pedal.

When the driver steps on the gas, the linkages will turn the shafts, and the blades will open and close.

He connects the two linkages with a part called a tie bar.

Now that they're connected, the linkages will move together in one action.

The technician tests the linkages to confirm that they operate smoothly.

He now places the top part onto the throttle body.

He applies a thread-lock solution to a bolt, which he then inserts in the center of the assembly.

This is a crucial connection.

It's what holds the two parts of the throttle body together.

He secures the center bolt with a threaded insert.

This insert will also be used to attach an intake air cleaner.

This throttle body is now complete.

Workers measure air flow through the throttle body using smoke so our camera can photograph it.

With this measurement, they give the throttle body a performance rating.

A crew installs the throttle body between the race car's intake manifold and air filter.

Then, they check its function.

This performance throttle body is now ready to compete.

For hundreds of years, stone carvers have skillfully sculpted blocks of solid stone into ornate fireplace mantels.

A work of art with an imposing presence, a stone mantel is the decorative centerpiece of a room.

Whether or not there's a fire burning, it creates a warm ambience.

Modern-day stone carvers carry on a trade passed down through the centuries, crafting limestone fireplace mantels that exude old-world elegance.

Artisans sketch out a creative design, then produce a technical drawing and 3-d model on a computer.

This particular mantel, carved from beige limestone, will feature a medallion of red sandstone.

The red medallion will be set into the keystone, which is the central block of what's called the lintel, the horizontal part of the mantel.

After finalizing the measurements, the artisans lay down a sheet of thick white plastic and draw the mantel's overall shape, as seen from the front, in its actual dimensions.

The mantel will be composed of several parts so they will also mark the joints where those parts meet.

Using this pattern, they cut a clear plastic template for each part.

The artisans use a combination of traditional and modern stone-carving tools.

First, for each part, they use an automated diamond-blade saw to cut a block to size.

They then measure and mark where they need to remove stone to shape the block to the basic profile.

The artisan gradually removes that portion of stone with a hammer and different types of chisels.

Limestone can be hard like marble, or soft like chalk.

There's less margin for error when carving softer limestone, like this, because every strike of the hammer removes more stone than the same strike on a hard limestone would.

This tool, designed for soft limestone, wears away the surface like a plane does to a piece of wood.

Once the artisan has removed all the excess stone, he checks that the surface is level.

Then, in the side of the block, he traces a template for the profile.

This block will become the keystone for the horizontal part of the mantel.

He measures out and marks the center of the keystone...

Then centers the medallion and traces it.

He'll draw the remainder of the keystone's design freehand.

The design is symmetrical, so the artisan draws on one side of the center line, traces his drawing onto the clear plastic to make a template, then flips the template onto the other side of the center line to trace the same design in mirror image.

He begins removing stone with a hammer and roughing tools.

First, he breaks off big chunks with a chipper.

He works his way down to just above the pencil line.

Then, with a finer tooth chisel, he removes the last bit.

Then he switches to finishing tools.

He mounts chisels of varying widths on an air hammer to remove a precise, even layer of stone.

Working on the more complex details, he uses a combination square to mark a consistent height across the keystone.

Every detail of the keystone profile must align with the same profile detail of the lentil pieces on either side of it.

Once he has finished the entire profile of the piece, he sands the surface smooth and brushes away the dust.

Now the artisan turns his attention to the keystone's ornate sculpt design.

With fine, flat, and pointed chisels, he removes the stone around his pencil lines until the design he drew emerges.

By switching to a sculptor's rasp, he smoothes all the rough edges.

He checks the fit of the red sandstone medallion and glues it in.

Once the artisan finishes sculpting all the parts, he lays them on the pattern to make sure all the dimensions are perfect.

On installation day, he mounts the mantel, piece by piece, around the fireplace.

Candied fruit and fruit jellies are middle eastern in origin and spread to europe around the 12th century.

This region of france has been producing them since the 15th century.

When wars blocked access to cane sugar, fruit farmers began planting sugar beets to preserve this confectionery tradition.

This company in france has been catering to people's sweet tooth since 1880 with its gift boxes containing traditional candied fruit and fruit jellies.

To make candied fruit, a master confectioner boils fresh fruit for many hours to soften the fibers.

This process will later help sugar to penetrate the fruit.

He pokes the fruit to see if it's ready.

Boiling time varies from 1 hour for apricots to 8 hours for chestnuts.

Citrus fruits are sliced before boiling.

After boiling, the more fragile types of fruit, such as apricots, pears and clementines, go into large hot-air dehydrators for up to 3 weeks.

Every day, the master confectioner replaces the evaporated water with sugar syrup, which concentrates over time.

For less fragile fruits, the technique is different.

Workers heat them in vats of sugar syrup for about 10 days.

The moisture evaporates, and the syrup concentrates.

The factory sells whole candied fruits like this collection of clementines, apricots, pears, figs, and plums, to gourmet food shops, which sell them by the piece or in elegant, private-label gift boxes.

Whole candied fruit are also popular for designing edible arrangements.

Making fruit jellies is a different process.

The recipe combines fruit pulp, making up more than 50 percent of the mixture, with powdered sugar, liquid glucose, a form of plant sugar, pectin to make the mixture gelatinous, and natural fruit flavoring.

A worker boils down the mix for a half hour to concentrate the sugar, then adds more fruit flavoring.

As the mix continues to cook, she draws samples to measure the sugar content.

She does this until the mix hits its target concentration of 78 percent.

Another worker pours the batch from the pot into a large pitcher, then into a square stainless steel mold.

It takes the jelly a day to set.

Once set, a worker removes it from the mold-- this one's a different flavor-- and coats it with crystallized sugar to preserve it.

The worker then lays the jelly square on cutter the company calls a guitar because its steel wires look like guitar strings.

The wires cut once in each direction to make cubes.

Then, another worker applies a second coating of sugar.

In addition to this small-batch production, the factory has one automated machine, which makes fruit jellies in a variety of geometric or fruit shapes created by templates made of plaster.

This process is much faster than the handmade approach.

First, the machine makes a bed of starch.

Then it presses the plaster form into the bed to create mold cavities.

The next station fills the cavities with hot liquid fruit jelly.

Then, the molds are set aside for a day.

The starch absorbs the residual moisture as the jelly sets.

The next day, workers load the molds on top of the same machine, which flips them to dump out the jellies.

The jellies tumble down a vibrating conveyor belt.

The starch shakes off with each bounce.

Then they pass under a spinning brush, which removes any remaining starch.

The conveyor moves them into a rotating drum, which showers them with sugar.

On the packaging line, a slow conveyor belt moves retail boxes in front of a row of workers.

Each worker is responsible for a single flavor.

While placing the required number of fruit jellies in the box, she also performs a quality control check, removing and replacing any that are misshapen.

This ensures that these traditional fruit jellies look as good as they taste.

Linen is believed to be the oldest of woven textiles.

But for the making of ukuleles, it's definitely a new material.

Infused with resin, linen can actually be molded into a solid ukulele that has a look and sound that's similar to wood.

Linen may seem to be an unlikely material for making ukuleles, but these instruments are proof that the fabric can be used for more than just drapes and tablecloths.

Following a computer-aided design, workers cut pattern pieces from linen fabric, infused with plant resin and with protective liners.

After peeling off the liners, a technician layers the linen pieces in a ukulele mold.

The resin has given the fabric a clay-like consistency, so it can be easily shaped to the mold's curves.

He layers 65 linen pieces in total.

He drapes a nylon fabric over the linen and tucks it into the crevices.

The fabric will ultimately contain the resin when it's heated and liquefied.

Polyester batting in the center will soak up excess resin during baking.

He cooks the linen layers for several hours.

The resin in the fabric subsequently liquifies and finally hardens, fusing the layers together, to create a solid ukulele body, next and head.

After reinforcing the neck, a computerized router trims the entire ukulele body.

Another router trims the sound board, which is the resonant part that serves as the front of the instrument.

It, too, has been molded from linen material.

A technician pipes epoxy glue along the rim of the body to attach the soundboard, which is being reinforced with carbon fiber and a plastic liner applied for the front to protect it during this stage of fabrication.

He glues a front plate to the headstock of the ukulele.

He then places the ukulele in a fixture.

He clamps the fixture together to keep the parts in position as the glue hardens for 24 hours.

He props up the headstock with a block of wood and uses a separate clamp to keep the assembly tight.

A router carves an opening in the soundboard.

This sound hole with allow the instrument to project music more efficiently.

The router also drills tuning holes in the head plate.

Another member of the team now applies a wood stain to the linen composite surface.

This gives it a more uniform finish.

The next part is the finger board, made of a wood fiber and plastic composite.

Another technician hammers nickel silver frets into the fingerboard's slots.

He then clips the ends to make them flush to the fingerboard.

He files the ends to make them smooth to the touch.

He then glues the fingerboard to the ukulele neck.

The technician installs the bridge on the soundboard.

Using a special fixture, he clamps the fingerboard and bridge to the instrument to apply pressure while the glue dries.

It takes another 24 hours for the glue to set.

The next day, a technician applies an adhesive-backed label with the serial number printed on it to the inside of the ukulele.

He inserts tuning pegs into holes drilled into the headstock.

He secures the pegs with bolts at the back of the headstock and tightens the bolts with a nut driver.

Then he runs strings from the bridge to the tuning pegs and knots them to hold them in place.

He turns the tuners to pull the strings to a specific tension, and this linen-composite ukulele is ready for a show.


Automatic Sliding Doors
Gin
Firearms Restoration

And...

Automatic sliding doors are the norm at most supermarkets and large retailers.

Sensors detect your approach and prompt the doors to slide open.

They open when you arrive and close when you depart, which is convenient when your hands are full.

These automatic sliding doors are custom-made to fit the customer's door opening.

The doors are programmed to open in 1 1/2 seconds, but that can be adjusted during installation.

The door structure and frame are made of aluminum that's been heated to a softened state.

It's then forced through a die to give it a specific shape.

A computer-guided saw cuts these aluminum pieces to the length required for this order.

This is one of the pieces that will form the vertical side of the door structure.

Workers insert durable weather stripping into a built-in track.

They collapse the end to lock the strip in place.

On the opposite side, they fasten long, threaded rods.

The rods are used to attach the rails.

The rails fit over the rod and are securely fastened to the doorframe with an alignment clip and nut.

Once workers have assembled the two door structures, they install a pivot at the top of each one.

This top pivot allows the door to swing outward when you push the emergency exit bar.

Then, they assemble the door hanger.

It connects the door to the top of the frame.

The hanger rolls on two wheels.

A urethane rubber one allows the door to move sideways along the track...

And a plastic one, which prevents the door from going off the track.

They attach the door's top pivot to the hanger.

An access control release is needed to open the doors in case of emergency.

Workers install it into sections of the doorframe that meet when the two doors close together.

When you push the emergency bar, this mechanism rotates to let the door swing open.

The hanger detent prevents the door from swinging open during normal operation.

It attaches the access control release to the door hanger.

Workers complete the door structures by applying legally required safety decals.

Meanwhile, at another station, workers install the door's electronics in the header.

This is one of the many infrared sensors that trigger the doors to open.

The sensors detect people approaching by reading the invisible heat energy humans give off.

After loading the nuts, they'll need to fasten the remaining components to the header's track.

They install a pulley, part of the drive system that moves the doors.

Then, they slide the header's cover into a track and continue installing components...

First, the end caps, which attach the header to the doorframe, then, the door controller, the brains of the entire system.

It has built-in operational software.

You can run the doors on the defaults or customize the settings.

Now, for the rest of the drive system.

They install an electric motor and pulley.

The motor has a switch that detects the door's position.

Next, a timing belt is looped around two pulleys.

They adjust the distance between the pulleys to tighten the belt.

The door installers will do a more precise adjustment on-site.

Every header undergoes extensive computerized testing.

This checks the function and safety features.

Then, the doorframe and structure ship out to the building site, where the glass panes go in prior to installation.

Gin is a distilled alcoholic spirit.

It's flavored primarily with juniper berries.

In fact, the word "gin" is believed to come from "jenever," the dutch word for "juniper".

It's the base for many popular mixed drinks, such as the martini, the singapore sling, and, of course, gin and tonic.

This microdistillery produces gin in small batches using a slower distillation process.

They don't add any sweeteners, artificial flavoring, or coloring.

At this distillery, everything is done by hand, starting with the main ingredient, juniper berries.

Then, spices are added-- dried angelica plant roots...

Coriander seeds...

Lemon peel and cardamom.

All these ingredients go into a 90-gallon copper still.

A spirit distilled from fermented grain is already in the still.

It's completely tasteless but has an alcohol content of 95%.

To lower the alcohol level to 40%, they've diluted it with spring water.

Now they prepare to redistill with the spices.

This gives the spirit its distinct gin flavor.

To do this, they slowly heat the bottom of the still.

In about an hour, the alcohol boils and begins to evaporate.

They continue distilling for about six hours, constantly monitoring the temperature.

If the temperature reaches 212 degrees, the water will also evaporate, ruining the batch.

The alcohol steam rises up and out of the still through pipes leading to a chilled stainless steel tank.

When the hot steam hits the cold, it condenses back to a liquid, creating gin.

Throughout the distillation process, they take samples to measure the density and temperature.

These readings reflect the current alcohol level.

They adjust the distillation speed as required to produce a target alcohol level of 76%.

Only the middle of each batch, known as the heart of the distillation, is collected.

This particular distillery adds another step.

They infuse the gin with raw parsnips.

This gives it an earthy flavor and subtle floral aroma.

They peel and slice the parsnips, place them in a tank, then pump in the gin.

After a couple of days, they pump it through filters on the way to a storage tank.

Then, they dilute the gin with water to lower the alcohol level to 43%.

Before bottling, the distillery draws samples for quality control testing.

They examine the color, the aroma, and, of course, the taste.

There will be slight variations in flavor based on the freshness of the parsnips.

This microdistillery has no automated bottling line.

They fill the bottles by hand only six at a time.

They cork each bottle individually with a hand-operated press.

They apply a plastic sleeve, which they heat-shrink tightly over the neck.

The consumer pulls a small gold tab to remove the seal and uncork the bottle.

This hand-operated machine labels one bottle at a time.

The machine removes the backing to expose the adhesive, then presses the label onto the bottle.

This is a london dry gin, meaning it's made with the traditional ingredients and contains no added sweeteners or colorings.

This distillation process is how gin was made before the age of large, commercial distilleries.

Winchester rifles are known as the guns that won the american wild west.

Many old guns have quite a past, and it shows.

Dents, scratches, and missing parts make a gun look ready for the junkyard.

But old guns can be restored lock, stock, and barrel.

A vintage firearm may have been used in a historic battle or to hunt for food.

Winchester rifles were one of the first repeating rifles, guns that held multiple rounds for a much greater rate of fire.

To restore a century-old winchester, they disassemble it and evaluate every part.

They decide the gun needs a major overhaul, beginning with the shoulder stock.

The master gunsmith assesses pieces of american black walnut for a new stock and decides on one.

He then selects a wooden template of a shoulder stock.

He traces the template's contours onto the blank using a grease pencil.

He leaves a generous margin for error.

He cuts the walnut blank with a band saw, following the pencil profile.

These band saw cuts remove excess wood.

They also give him a basic shape to work with.

Next, he clamps the walnut piece in a duplicator beside the shoulder stock template.

He follows the shape of the template with a stylus.

The stylus controls a router that cuts into the wood.

As he follows the lines of the gunstock template, the router moves in sync to duplicate the shape.

It also reveals the beautiful grain of the black walnut.

The template and walnut copy can be turned simultaneously.

This allows the gunsmith to cover every angle with a stylus.

It takes numerous passes to duplicate the shape.

Next, he brushes black dye onto the receiver, which houses the rifle's operating parts.

He slides the receiver into the new stock.

The black dye transfers to the high spots of the wood, indicating where the fit is too tight.

He scrapes the wood in those locations, so the receiver fits more precisely into the stock.

This process is known as inletting.

He now refines the shape of the shoulder stock using a coarse file.

He also evens any rough patches created by the duplicator.

He switches to a finer file as he continues to shape the stock and smooth it.

Finally, he sands the gunstock to a uniform texture.

He stains both the stock and the fore-end.

The fore-end is used to steady the rifle during firing.

Once the stain has dried, he applies an oil finish.

This both protects the wood and enhances the grain.

The finish can make all the difference.

Here, we see finished stocks in low to high-grade wood.

Next, a craftsman engraves a checkered pattern into the fore-end of the stock.

He etches a series of grooves, creating an outline to work with.

Then he carves parallel grooves on crisscross angles to form the checkered pattern.

This checkering adds visual interest and gives the rifle a better grip.

Stay tuned for more as this vintage gun restoration continues.

Restoring old guns was long considered taboo.

It was believed that tampering with antique firearms would diminish their value.

That view is changing.

Gun restoration can save it from the junkyard, preserving a piece of the past.

Many old guns have a checkered pattern on the stock and fore-end.

To replicate the originals, the gunsmith has etched a checkered pattern into the wood.

He now darkens the checkered sections with black linseed oil.

The oil highlights and protects the design.

The focus then turns to the rifle's metal parts, made of low-carbon steel.

After over a century of use, the finish has worn off, compromising their strength.

Restoration begins with the receiver.

It holds the gun's working parts.

He files off imperfections.

Then, he polishes the receiver using an abrasive cloth wrapped around a block.

He uses progressively finer abrasives.

This greatly improves the surface.

Here is the rifle receiver before it was filed and sanded...

And after.

He also cleans up the trigger, lever, and other parts.

After a hardening treatment, the gunsmith applies varnish.

The varnish enhances the swirl of colors created by the hardening treatment.

This is a classic look.

Here is the rifle receiver in the different stages of restoration.

Next, a gunsmith bolts a roll die into a press.

He then loads the newly polished rifle barrel into the press and activates it.

This press rolls lettering into the metal.

This stamped information is known as the barrel address.

It includes the company name and original date of manufacture.

Another team member boils the barrel in hot, soapy water to remove any dirt or grime.

After a rinse, he slides the barrel onto a fixed rod.

He wipes off the water residue and heats the barrel with a torch.

This preheat prepares the barrel for a rust-proofing treatment called rust bluing.

As he brushes the bluing solution onto the rifle barrel, he maintains a steady heat.

The hot temperature activates the chemicals, and the metal turns a brown hue.

Next, he boils the barrel in hot water.

Its color goes from brown to bluish black.

He repeats the rust bluing treatment six to eight times.

Then, he brushes it against a wire wheel to get rid of excess residue.

This century-old gun barrel is as good as new.

Sometimes, they engrave a gun's receiver with scrollwork or other designs.

The engraver cuts the steel entirely by hand.

He views his work through a microscope to get every detail right.

He also engraves the manufacturer's name and model number into the tang of the rifle receiver.

It's delicate work that he has only one chance to get right.

Elaborate engravings on the rifle receiver aren't necessary, but are a nice addition.

The client decides whether to keep it simple or go fancy.

Restoring a vintage rifle isn't cheap.

It costs thousands of dollars or more if expensive engravings and gold inlay work is added.

But when it comes to extras, some collectors won't hesitate to pull the trigger.


Cars that don't have fuel-injection systems have carburetors.

They're an integral part of the engine that mixes air and fuel in specific proportions, vaporizes them, then sends the mixture to the intake manifold.

The manifold transfers the mixture to the engine cylinders, where combustion occurs.

Filtered air enters the carburetor and mixes with fuel.

When you press the gas, the carburetor opens conduits for the air-and-fuel mixture to flow to the engine.

Two metering blocks control the proportion of fuel to air.

Computer-guided precision tools machine them out of aluminum.

Meanwhile, workers install components called boosters in the carburetor's main body.

These boosters spray the fuel-and-air mixture as a mist into tapered conduits called venturi.

Those lead to the intake manifold, which transfers the mixture to the engine's cylinders.

Another computerized machine makes each throttle shaft from a bar of steel.

These shafts turn when you press on the gas, pivoting the butterfly discs that open those conduits to the intake manifold.

The tooling machine bores screw holes for attaching the butterflies and carves grooves to prevent fuel from leaking out.

Workers install the throttle shafts in the carburetor's baseplate.

One side of this plate will bolt to the main body and the other to the intake manifold.

The butterflies are made of aluminum, steel, or brass, depending on the carburetor model.

He flips the baseplate and flares the bottom of the screws to prevent them from vibrating out and falling into the engine.

After installing an adjustment screw for tuning the carburetor and using thread-locking fluid to ensure the components don't loosen, it's time to assemble the levers that turn the throttle shafts.

A washer and cotter pin hold it all together.

A few pulls on the levers ensure that both throttle shafts move freely and smoothly, turning the butterflies perpendicular to open the conduits and flat to close them.

Next, the accelerator pump arm-- it shoots an initial burst of fuel when you start the car.

The carburetor's cast-metal fuel bowls go into a vibrating tumbler where metal balls smooth their surface.

Then they receive a protective coating.

Now a worker installs a float to control the fuel level inside each bowl.

This is essential because too little fuel would prevent engine start-up, and too much fuel would overflow and cause a shutdown.

A gasket sandwiched between the main body and the baseplate will prevent fuel from leaking out and dirt from seeping in.

As a precaution, they coat the baseplate screws with thread-locking fluid so they won't loosen over time.

Now the baseplate that contains the throttle shafts and butterflies is connected to the main body that contains the boosters.

Next come the metering blocks-- a gasket over each one, and then into a fuel bowl.

Then one block-and-bowl unit goes on each side of the main body.

Just one final adjustment to the accelerator pump lever and arm and the carburetor is finished.

In the quality-control department, every carburetor undergoes testing with fluids similar to gasoline.

They check if the accelerator pump squirts out enough fuel at ignition and during the transition from idling mode to acceleration.

Then, once everything's running at regular speed, they measure the amount of fluid the boosters spray per hour.

Once they pass quality control, these carburetors will really be able to rev you up.

In an air conditioner, liquid refrigerant absorbs heat from inside the building, changes into a gas, then flows outdoors.

It goes through a compressor, then a heat-exchanger coil that transfers the heat to the outside air, turning the refrigerant gas to liquid again.

The refrigerant then circulates back inside the building.

This air-conditioner company makes its coils entirely of aluminum, which is five times more corrosion-resistant than coils made of copper and aluminum.

To make the coil, workers position an aluminum tube called the spine in the middle of this special winding machine.

Then they feed in an aluminum strip.

The machine slits the aluminum strip into thin teeth called fins.

Then it folds and wraps thousands upon thousands of fins around the spine, making the material they call spine fin tubing.

Each tiny fin is a heat-transfer vehicle.

Now to form the coil.

They hook the end of the spine fin tubing to an automated winder.

It spirals the spine fin tubing into a large cylindrical shape.

When they finish winding the coil, they cut the end free from the feeder, then apply hot glue to hold everything together.

The next machine presses the coil on all sides to form it into the shape of the air conditioner.

A worker now cuts into the coil and bears a row of tubing.

These cuts determine the circuits, the term for the path the refrigerant takes as it flows through the coil.

The pipes that feed these circuits are made of copper, but copper doesn't fuse directly to aluminum.

So workers must first solder on transition tubes coated with a zinc/aluminum alloy.

Then they attach the copper manifolds that distribute the refrigerant to the circuits.

Once all the refrigeration components are in place, workers subject the coil unit to an underwater pressure test to make sure there are no leaks.

In another department, workers have assembled the air conditioner's compressor.

They mount the compressor to a weather-resistant plastic base, then cover it with a sound reducer, a vinyl jacket filled with fiberglass insulation.

Now they add the coil.

It sits between posts in the base.

For an air conditioner to work well, it can't have air or moisture in its refrigeration system.

So workers hook up the unit to automated machinery that completely evacuates the lines.

Next, workers connect wiring and install corner supports, then begin assembling the unit's exterior housing.

The top perimeter piece is shaped to direct the airflow out of the unit.

A motorized fan pulls air into the unit.

A plastic grille lets air exit and keeps debris from falling inside.

Finally, they seal the refrigerant lines by brazing shut a pair of tubes.

The housing parts are made of zinc-coated steel.

The factory spray-paints them then bakes the paint for maximum durability.

Air conditioners sit outdoors so they have to withstand all kinds of weather.

The factory sends sample units to a performance-testing laboratory.

It runs them in extreme heat, extreme cold, rain, and snow to see if, under such harsh conditions, they keep their cool.

Next time you reach for the sugar bowl, try to imagine that it was once so rare and expensive it was called white gold.

Producing sugar from the sugarcane first took place in india.

About 300 b.c., alexander the great's army reported seeing a reed that gives honey without bees growing there.

This table sugar has many names-- mill white, plantation white, and crystal sugar.

But it all comes from the sugarcane.

It looks a lot like bamboo with fully grown stalks that can measure up to 20 feet high.

Here in the field, a worker pares away the husk from a stalk of sugarcane, then chews the cane's raw pulp to extract the stalk's sweet juice.

This machine harvests the cane by cutting it at the base.

Rotating scrolls feed the cane to the chopper drums inside.

As they chop the cane, a fan blows the lighter leaves and tops back onto the field.

The heavier lengths of cane drop into the base of a conveyor, which feeds them into the transport bin that follows alongside.

Trucks rapidly transport the cut cane to the sugar mill for processing.

Once cut, sugarcane begins to lose its sugar content, and damage to the cane during harvesting accelerates this decay.

At the mill, trucks empty their load onto a receiving table.

It feeds a belt conveyor that takes the cane through two separate washes.

The cane must be as clean as possible before extracting the juice.

But first, the cane's hard structure is broken down inside this crusher, where rotating hammers break the cane into small pieces.

A conveyor loads it into a milling tandem designed to extract the sweet juice from the crushed cane.

In this milling tandem, the cane passes through a series of five or more consecutive mills.

Large cylinders compress the cane fiber.

The juice pours out of the milling tandem and diverts into a channel away from the bagasse, the dry pulp that remains after extracting the juice.

A worker supervises the operation at each of the mills.

A vat collects the juice that flows from the top and bottom of the mills.

Now that the juice is extracted from the sugarcane, it's time to process it.

However, before turning the juice into sugar crystals, a sample goes through a series of tests at the sugar mill's laboratory.

First, a technician adds a thickener that binds to impurities in the juice and then filters it to obtain a clear, clean juice.

Then he pours it into a polarimeter, a machine that measures the concentration of sugar.

The juice from the mills now falls through this 33-foot-high tower as sulfur-dioxide vapors rise through it.

This process, known as sulfitation, bleaches the juice.

Then the juice flows through a device that measures its p.h. level.

While at a separate vat, workers add powdered lime to water, preparing a solution to which they will then add the juice.

An agitator mixes the cane-juice-and-lime solution for about six hours to complete a process called alkalization.

It regulates the juice's p.h. level and helps clarify it.

In reaction to the lime, the juice's color changes from brown to yellow.

Next, the juice goes into these clarifier tanks.

It takes over two hours for the juice to settle and for the impurities to fall to the bottom of the tank.

A sample taken from the tank shows how the sludge collects at the bottom, while the clarified juice collects at the top.

Next, we'll see how this clarified juice transforms into flowing crystals of white sugar.

Christopher columbus never made it to asia but discovered the caribbean and later brought sugarcane plantings there.

Sugarcane provides sugar but also syrup, molasses, rum, and ethanol.

The many types of sugar available in stores differ in crystal size or color, depending on how they are processed.

Workers filter the residue known as mud from the clarifier tanks to extract any remaining sugar.

There's no waste here.

The mud will fertilize the cane fields, and the bagasse will be burned as fuel.

The clarified juice collected from the clarifier tanks now boils in a series of evaporators.

This brings the concentration of the sugar and the juice up from 15% to 60%.

Then the juice collects in 15-ton tanks to clarify even more.

Any sediment left in the juice floats to the top.

A rotating paddle skims this residue off to the sides of the tank.

These tanks produce a type of syrup that goes on for still more processing.

Workers now pour microscopic sucrose crystals suspended in alcohol into the syrup.

This milky solution binds to the sugar present in the syrup and helps draw it out.

Next, it all boils in large vacuum pans, forming sugar crystals.

As the water in the syrup boils away, workers regularly check to see how the sugar is crystallizing.

The goal-- to produce a thick, crystallized paste known as mesquite.

It then goes into a high-speed centrifugal machine to remove the sugar crystals from the uncrystallized syrup.

Inside, the sugar spins at 1,200 revolutions per minute.

This action draws the molasses to the outer shell of the machine, while the crystals remain in the inner basket.

Sprays of water wash the crystals, then the water is drawn out so that only the crystals remain.

This centrifuge works much the same way as a washing machine set on the spin cycle.

It draws out moisture from the sugar much like you draw out the wash water from a load of laundry.

Next, a conveyor belt carries the sugar crystals out of the centrifuge.

This mill produces raw sugar, which has a higher molasses color and is unbleached, and plantation white sugar, which has less molasses and is bleached a brilliant white.

The sugar on the conveyor now goes into a large dryer.

Hot air blows into this dryer to bring the sugar's humidity level down to .

That's standard for table sugar.

The dried sugar pours out from the dryer into a bag on a scale.

It's full when it weighs in at 2,200 pounds.

A hoist then carries the bags to a platform at the far end of the packing facility.

At 3.3 tons, that's a heavy load.

It lowers each bag over a chute that leads to the factory's main floor.

Workers carefully open each bag in turn and pour out the sugar directly into the chute.

It feeds an automated packaging machine, which fills a series of 4½-pound plastic bags, seals them, and separates them.

This packing facility produces 200,000 bags a day.

That means processing 400 tons of white sugar daily.

This fine plantation-white sugar is available in a variety of convenient packaging options, and that should sweeten anyone's day.


Chemical Tank Pressure Vents
Candy Wafers
Food Trucks
Traditional Ropes

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

It's common for pressure to build up inside chemical tanker trucks during transport.

Special vents regulate that pressure, preventing any unwanted gas build-up, which could lead to an explosion.

Pressure relief vents are standard equipment on chemical tanker trucks.

They ensure tanks can hold up to the pressures inherent to this industry.

Production starts with a bin of wax pellets.

They use pellets to make models of the vent's parts in a process called lost-wax casting.

Pellets are fed into an injection machine.

The wax melts into a mold of the vent's lower housing.

Four wax models are fused to a single wax tree stand.

The tree stand is left to cure for a couple of hours.

Once cured, a worker dips the wax tree into a slurry of ceramic.

He removes the stand of wax models, then twirls it to drain any excess ceramic.

This is the first of several ceramic coatings.

Between coatings, he applies silica sand to the wet ceramic.

The sand rains down onto the ceramic, creating a stucco effect.

The first layer of stucco is finally granulated.

The next few layers will be coarse.

By building up progressively coarser layers of stucco, he creates a ceramic shell with the desired thickness and strength.

The final layer of sand is very coarse.

Air pumps through the sand as the worker dumps the models.

This process ensures uniform coverage of the heavier sand.

They bake the forms next, melting out the wax and hardening the ceramic into shells.

Next, a team pours blazing liquid steel into a ladle.

The ceramic shells have been heated to around 3,000 degrees in an oven.

Workers pour hot, liquid steel into the hollow tree.

They add a chemical sealer, then top the molten metal with a piece of ceramic-fiber insulation.

After about 3 hours in an oven, the steel castings are solid.

A worker shatters the ceramic, revealing the vent-housing parts.

A powerful circular saw slices the parts off the tree.

Workers clean off any ceramic residue.

Computer-guided tools calibrate the pressure-vent housing part to precise specifications.

After cleaning and polishing, the part is complete.

It's time for assembly.

The worker starts with the top of the pressure vent.

A large spring is inserted to aid pressure relief.

A metal plate is added to seal the top of the vent to the lower part.

The lower vent housing is then seated on the metal plate.

He moves the assembly under a hydraulic ram.

The ram presses the lower housing, the sealer plate, and the spring to a specific tension.

He then screws the lower housing to the top of the vent.

A metal ring inscribed with the vent's model and flow rate is attached at the top.

This chemical tank pressure vent is now ready for testing.

The technician screws it to the test stand.

He activates a system that forces compressed air into the vent.

This confirms whether the vent works at the desired setting.

Once approved, he attaches a cover to shield the vent from rain and snow.

The trackable serial number is etched into the top using a laser.

This vent is now ready to prevent hazardous situations.

The candy wafer is a classic american treat.

Invented in 1847, it's a thin, lightweight disk of sugary candy.

It's softer and dissolves faster than hard candy.

You can bite into it right away or let it melt in your mouth.

These candy wafers come in eight different flavors.

The original roll has a random assortment of 38 pieces.

Part of the fun is seeing how many of your favorite flavors you get.

This factory makes one flavor at a time.

The first step is to add food coloring and flavoring to pulverized sugar.

This pink color and mint flavoring produces a wintergreen taste.

Corn syrup comes next, along with a binding solution of vegetable gums and gelatin dissolved in water.

After mixing for about 8 minutes, the candy dough's consistency is checked.

If it isn't thick, elastic, or sticky enough, more binding solution is added until the dough is just right.

Workers divide the dough into chunks, then feed them into a dough shooter.

This is the first station on the wafer-forming line.

The black dough is licorice flavor.

A conveyor returns leftover dough from the end of the line to be reused for making new wafers.

They're pushed through a slot, forming the dough sheet that's 20 inches wide by about an inch thick.

This yellow dough is lemon flavored.

A steady sprinkle of cornstarch prevents the sheet from sticking to the equipment.

Rollers compress and stretch the dough forward, flattening the sheet to an inch thick.

The next station stamps on the company logo, then cuts out the wafers.

The cutter moves up and down 180 times per minute.

The wafers fall through a gap to a moving conveyor belt below.

The conveyor belt moves the wafers to a multilevel tunnel dryer.

They pass through the dryer 13 times over the course of an hour.

These green wafers are lime flavored.

The dryer temperature is about 150 degrees fahrenheit, warm enough to remove half of the moisture without melting the sugar.

These brown wafers are chocolate flavor.

Once out of the dryer, the wafers pile up in trays without sticking.

Workers stack the trays in a drying room.

It's heated and humidified with steam.

The candy wafers stay here until their moisture level drops to between 0.75% and 1%.

The factory tests a few samples using a device called a penetrometer.

It measures the force required to penetrate the candy wafer to the point of breaking it.

This ensures the candies are the correct consistency.

When the trays come out of the drying room, workers send the candies to the packaging line.

The colors are mixed together, ensuring every roll of candy has a random assortment of flavors.

The wafers flow into channels, which stand them on their sides.

Workers grab about two rolls' worth, then fill two channels of a feeder that takes them to the wrapping station.

Another worker fills in the gaps, ensuring each roll has 38 pieces.

The wrapping machine cuts printed, translucent paper wrapping and applies a bead of glue to one edge.

In a matter of seconds, the machine lifts the roll into the wrapper, seals the edges, and twists the ends closed.

As the sealed rolls move on a conveyor belt, heated blocks iron the twisted ends flat.

Each candy wafer roll weighs 2 ounces.

Workers pack 24 rolls per retail box, then pack the boxes in shipping cases.

In addition to a traditional roll with assorted flavors, the factory also produces chocolate-only rolls.

Production has modernized over the years, but the recipe itself hasn't changed much since the first candy wafer rolled off the production line in 1847.

Food trucks used to only sell sandwiches and other prepackaged food.

Not anymore.

The modern food truck is a mobile restaurant with a full kitchen inside.

Food is cooked fresh and sold to customers through a service window.

Most food trucks are standard panel trucks.

Their cargo area is a fully equipped commercial kitchen with a service window on one side.

They're usually customized by boutique companies, so there's no standard method.

However, certain modifications to the panel trucks are common, like enhancing the truck's suspension system or reinforcing the flooring and walls to support the kitchen's weight.

The lighten the load, this company builds the kitchen's structural components out of aluminum bars rather than heavy steel.

Once the pieces are cut, a worker assembles, then welds them together.

This structure will support a stainless-steel countertop.

Workers cut the countertops and cabinets from thick sheets of stainless steel.

They bend the sheets using a machine called a press break.

For this countertop, they bend a 90-degree angle on the front end to form a 1.5-inch square edge.

To construct walls and ceilings, they rivet thin sheets of stainless steel or aluminum to panels of wood.

Fire-retardant plywood is used for the kitchens.

The boards are installed over styrofoam insulation.

They leave the truck's aluminum floor as is.

Once the walls, ceiling, and flooring are complete, it's time to install the kitchen's cabinets and counters.

Workers screw each counter support to the wooden structure of the wall, then fasten the countertop with rivets.

They peel off the film that was protecting the stainless-steel surface.

Next, they install the major appliances, which include a commercial refrigerator, freezer, and cooking equipment.

Then the electrical box is installed.

They connect wiring for the outlets, lighting, water heater, water pump, and air-conditioning system.

The generator is installed underneath the nearest counter.

It supplies the truck with electricity.

Next to the electrical box is the power-transfer box.

It contains a switch that enables the truck to use an outdoor power source.

The switches for the interior and exterior lighting are underneath the electrical box.

Workers install the light fixtures, cabinetry, sink, and serving window.

They also install the gas lines that power the commercial cooking equipment.

This truck has several gas appliances-- a six-burner gas range with large oven, a deep fryer, a charcoal grill, and a flattop cooking surface.

The kitchen is equipped with a ventilation hood over the cooking area.

Its powerful fan gathers smoke and sends it out a vent on top of the truck.

It's time to outfit the exterior.

Some food trucks are painted, but most use graphics that are digitally printed on adhesive vinyl.

After positioning each panel of the design, they apply heat with a torch.

This removes trapped air, stretching the vinyl over rivets and other protrusions.

This mobile eatery is ready to roll with a kitchen that meets fire-code and food-service regulations.

It may not provide the ambiance of a sit-down restaurant, but when a food truck pulls up, you never need a reservation.

Rope has been made out of plant fibers for centuries.

Stronger synthetic and steel cords are available, but there's still a market for traditional twine.

They have their own unique strengths, and that's why we are still bound by their ties.

Woven from manila, sisal, or flax fibers, traditional ropes are a binding element in our world.

They're easier to grip and stretch less than synthetics.

At this deep and narrow building, they've been twisting fibers into rope for more than two centuries.

They're still producing rope the old-fashioned way.

The process starts with racks of natural-fiber yarns.

The yarns are funneled through separators, which configure them to twist evenly together.

The fibers then travel through tubes that squeeze them into bundles.

Workers tie the ends of the bundles onto a wheeled vehicle called the forming machine.

They roll the machine back until there's no slack in the bundles.

The machine is then sent to the opposite end of the factory, over 1,000 feet away.

As the machine travels backwards, its gears turn hooks, twisting the yarns into a tight configuration.

The formation of the twists ensure an even distribution of tension.

This is what makes rope so strong.

This long, indoor space is called a ropewalk.

There aren't many of them left in the world.

Halfway down, a worker places a trestle underneath the twisting yarns.

This keeps them off the floor and prevents tangling.

When the machine reaches the back wall, it stops, and workers cut both ends of the strands.

They tie them to posts to maintain tension and prevent unraveling.

The twisted fibers stretch from one end of the building to the other.

On one side, they tie three of the strands to a machine that will transform them into a rope.

Halfway down, they bring in a cart that holds a piece of grooved wood known as a top.

They tuck the twisted strands into the grooves of the top.

They then roll the cart down to face the rope-making machine.

A worker ties rope around the strands in the top.

This holds them in place as the rope-making machine twists the three strands into one.

The cart rolls along rails propelled by twisting action.

It leaves newly formed rope in its wake.

The rope machine with twisting hooks remains in the same place.

When the cart arrives at the opposite side of the building, the rope is formed.

A worker removes the ties around the top.

They now have a piece of rope that's over 700 feet long and almost 5 inches in diameter.

They slice the rope at both ends.

Then they wind it onto a big spool, packing it into a tight coil.

This traditional rope is almost ready to be shipped.

The customer requested looped ends for securing the rope with a shackle.

So, the rope-maker unravels the ends and pierces the rope with a hollow tool called a fid.

He makes a loop and slides the unraveled strands through the fid.

He finishes the job by weaving the strands into the rope.

They're ready to test a segment of the rope.

Two hydraulic jaws pull it until it breaks.

The rope must be able to handle 55 tons of force.

Traditional ropes have the strength to carry on, as they have done for a very long time.


Armored Vehicles
Tension Fabric Buildings
Rowers
Sculpture Enlargements

The first armored car was developed in the late 19th century.

First used as scouting vehicles, they quickly became a source of protection in modern warfare.

Today, private armored vehicles are made for celebrities, c.e.o.s, and government officials.

This armored s.u.v. looks like an ordinary car, but it's reinforced with bulletproof steel and has transparent armor windows.

A designer integrates armored parts into the original design of the car using a 3d cad system.

A c.n.c. precision laser cutter shapes the armored parts out of a ballistic steel sheet.

A mechanic tests the steel's ballistic resistance using a high-power rifle.

He makes sure the armor meets international ballistic impact standards.

A mechanic starts by removing the inside covers and liners of the car, stripping it down to the chassis frame.

Now the mechanics can install the armor.

They weld bulletproof steel sheets to the chassis frame.

They reinforce the car floor with blast-absorbent steel sheets and install ballistic armored steel to cover the interior cabin walls.

A mechanic now uses an electric grinder to remove the standard-steel panels from the door.

Armored steel plates designed to fit to the chassis are welded in place.

At the end of the process, the vehicle is armored from top to bottom.

The armor adds around two tons of weight to the vehicle, depending on the model, so each vehicle is equipped with an adapted suspension system.

A welder assembles a fuel-tank casing using ballistic steel.

He arranges the metal to form a protective shell around the tank then welds the pieces together.

Another worker applies electrostatic, anti-rust, and flame-retardant paint, designed to prevent the tank from exploding if exposed to open flames.

A welder attaches the fuel pan to the bulletproof casing.

He uses a mig torch to tack-weld the pan onto the armored steel.

The c.n.c.-designed casing fits perfectly around the tank.

Mechanics now reassemble the interior fitting, air-conditioning system, and electrical wiring running through the roof.

Another worker reattaches the original panels to the armored door frame and puts the door-lock and window controls back in place.

They cover the blast-absorbent steel with floor mats, then they bring in the rear bulkhead door, which is upholstered to match the original interior.

The bulletproof door can be used as an emergency escape hatch.

It opens horizontally because the door is too heavy for hatch lifts to support.

Now they install the windshield.

It's made of transparent armored glass.

The thickness of the glass depends on the ballistic standard the car needs to meet.

He installs runflat devices made of composite plastic inside the wheels.

This allows the car to keep rolling on a flat tire for 40 to 50 miles at a speed of up to 50 miles per hour.

A mechanic tightens the device around the rim before a robotic arm attaches the tire to the wheel.

He labels the reinforced wheel with the specifications of the runflat device and mounts it back on the car.

A keen observer may see the overlap between the edge of the doorframe and the main chassis or notice the unusual thickness of the windows, but the design of these cars makes them look perfectly normal to most people, even though they are as protected as armored tanks.

A tension fabric building combines the benefits of a tent and a building into a single structure.

It has a strong, load-resistant roof and a sturdy steel structure but can be quickly dismantled and reconstructed at a new location.

You often see tension fabric buildings on farms or at public works yards.

They're often used to store equipment and bulk materials like gravel or road salt.

Tension fabric buildings can also house small factories.

The fabric cover is high-density polyethylene, a material known for its exceptional strength.

It can withstand strong winds and heavy snow accumulation.

Following the engineer's plan, workers cut the required sheets of fabric.

Then, the assembly process begins.

They flatten and tape down the first sheet to immobilize it then overlap the second sheet by two inches.

They tape down that sheet to keep it in position.

Then, with a hot-air welder, they melt the overlapping edges and press them together with heavy wheels.

This fuses the edges into a strong seam.

Workers use this same process to weld on tension pockets two feet in from the bottom and sides.

Each pocket will contain a steel or pvc tube holding nylon straps.

The straps are spaced 2 to 10 feet apart, depending on the building size.

They apply tension to fasten the fabric down over the steel structure.

The assembled sheets form a single cover that goes over the sides and roof of the building.

Separate covers are made for the front and back walls.

The covers of larger buildings are made differently.

Workers connect multiple covers with a keter system.

Keter is an ultra-strong pvc or nylon rope.

An automated hot-air welder folds the edges of each cover over the keter.

The fabric-sealed rope edge will slide snugly into an aluminum channel in the building's roof structure.

When the cover is finished, workers fan-fold it...

Then roll it up for transport to the installation site.

For the building's steel structure, the factory orders steel tubing and cuts pieces to the required lengths.

The steel is coated with zinc to prevent corrosion.

Works put the tubes into a press to flatten the ends into connectable surfaces.

At the same time, the press punches holes for bolts.

For buildings with a rounded top, works bend tubes for the trusses, a main component of the roof framing.

The operator programs in the required radius, and the machine automatically adjusts the dies to curve the tube accordingly.

Workers then place the parts for each truss segment in an assembly jig to prepare for welding.

They tack-weld the parts together so they come off the jig as a single unit.

At the next station, workers finish the welding.

This truss segment will connect with six others, forming a 200-foot truss running the full width of the building.

To keep up with the high demand, robots do all the welding for this factory's most-popular models.

Welding removes the galvanization, which keeps the steel corrosion-resistant, so the last step is to spray zinc-rich paint on the welds to restore that protection.

A tension fabric building typically takes a team of four just a few days to set up.

It can be customized to attach to different types of foundations and be designed with windows and garage doors.

Rowing machines were invented in the late 1800s.

These early versions were rudimentary but helped competitive rowers train in the off-season.

As technology improved, rowing machines gained a much wider appeal.

Today's machines offer a realistic rowing experience without putting an oar in the water.

When the weather is bad, a rowing machine can bring the workout indoors.

To make a rower, a computerized tool punches assembly holes in high-carbon steel.

Then, a laser carves out the parts around the holes.

These parts will be used to create the housing for the rower's flywheel and brakes.

They fold the edges using a bench press, making neat flaps.

Next up is the main tube for the rower.

All the other components will attach to this part.

A punch cuts assembly holes into the steel tube.

Then, an employee places the tube in a welding fixture.

He positions the stand of the seat frame at one end.

A robot welds the stand to the tube and welds mounts for the seat rail.

They apply a powder-coat finish to the assembly, making it corrosion-resistant.

An employee places the flywheel housing parts in a fixture and activates an automated welder, which fuses them together at the seams.

They powder-coat this assembly, too.

Plastic wheels with metal bearings allow the seat to slide on the rails.

A worker screws four wheels to the carrier plate under the rower seat.

Now an employee applies a decal with the company name to the main tube.

He inserts a pulley in a notch at the end of the tube.

Next, he sets the chrome seat rail on the mounts and secures it with screws.

He attaches the ends of the chrome rail to eyelets on the stand.

He screws plastic feet to the bottom of the stand.

At another station, a worker places a bearing in the center of the flywheel and uses a press to secure it.

Next, he pulls a black, plastic cord through a spool and knots it at the end.

He also pulls a white, rubberized cord through, then mounts the spool to a shaft in the flywheel.

He locks the spool to the shaft with a special steel ring and winds the black cord around the spool.

He puts the flywheel in the steel housing and screws it in place.

Using a hooked tool, he grabs a spring linked to the magnetic braking system.

He fastens this end of the spring to a hole in the flywheel housing.

A team now threads the white pull cord through the main tube and uses the pulley at the end to loop it back.

A piece of metal cable attached the end of the pull cord makes it easier to snake the cord through the tube.

Now a worker unwinds some of the black cord.

He threads it through a guide on the flywheel housing and attaches it to the handlebar, also known as the oar.

He pushes caps into the ends of the handlebar, then rests it on top of the flywheel housing.

Another employee builds a protective outer structure around the flywheel steel housing using molded plastic parts.

He installs a port for the electrical system that powers the workout computer.

The top part of the casing contains the computer.

The computer measures row strokes and calories burned.

After making all the necessary connections, he screws it in place.

A plastic cradle supports the assembly.

It snaps into place.

Once the seat is attached, this rowing machine is ready for a workout.

Until recently, if a sculptor wanted to create a large statue, they had to make their model by hand, but now an artist can make a small-scale replica of their statue and have a large copy made in foam.

The artist can then use this model to make their full-size sculpture, saving them a lot of time and money.

A full-size sculpture starts out as a small clay model.

The artist uses the clay model to make a mold out of wax, plaster, or resin.

The artist then sends the copy, called a maquette to a specialist, who produces a foam enlargement to be used as a model to cast the full-size sculpture.

The specialist places the maquette on a turntable.

He spins it at an event pace while scanning it.

The scanner's five cameras take continuous high-resolution photos and upload them to a computer.

The computer then converts these photos into a 3d image.

He scans the maquette several times to make sure he captures every detail.

Then, he combines the pictures together and divides the sculpture into sections.

He uses another program to calculate the scale of enlargement.

This helps him determine how many and what size blocks of foam he needs to produce each section.

He uses a dense foam with a fine grain called extruded polystyrene.

He secures the foam with tape, then uses a computer-guided router to carve the enlarged sections of the sculpture.

The larger and more detailed the part, the longer this process takes.

For example, this half of the dog's head took 45 minutes, while carving half a leg would take just eight minutes.

He uses a hot-wire machine to slice through the block and free the carved part.

The specialist removes excess foam with a sanding block.

He makes sure adjacent sections line up properly, then tapes them together.

He scrapes off the seam with a horse-grooming comb, then sands it down.

Next, he measures the sections so he can cut a steel pipe to the correct length.

The steel pipe is used as a stiffener to make the sections more rigid.

It also connects adjacent sections together.

He uses a standard pipe bender to match the stiffeners to the sections they're going into.

To embed the stiffener in the dog's leg, he first traces it on one side of the leg, then he carves out a trough to the depth of the stiffener's diameter.

He cleans out the loose foam with a narrow brush.

He checks to make sure the stiffener will fit.

Then, he applies an adhesive designed especially for foam and inserts the stiffener.

He places the other half of the leg on top, encasing the stiffener.

He leaves about six inches sticking out of the leg.

He inserts the protruding steel rod into a hole drilled in the enlargement.

Once he has assembled all the sections, he tapes them together to check their alignment.

The completed sculpture enlargement is about four times bigger than the original maquette.

It's now ready to be sent back to the sculptor, where he or she will cover it with clay and add fine details that can't be reproduced in foam.

Once this is done, the sculptor sends the clay model to a mold maker, who casts a mold and sends it to a metal foundry to create the final sculpture.