Game Calls
Mayonnaise
Traditional Razor Blades
Butterfly Safety Razors

The invention of mechanized game calls in the middle of the 19th century allowed hunters to mimic the sounds of their prey.

Before these devices came along, hunters whistled and made noises with their hands to lure birds or animals into shooting range, and their efforts weren't always on the mark.

whether it's a mating call or just a sociable "hey, there," a game call is about speaking the language.

Of course, it all translates into big trouble for birds and animals who respond.

There are dozens of different game calls, from duck to goose to elk.

Each game call is a precisely crafted instrument.

To make one, they don't have to look far for raw material.

A bamboo crop flourishes in the backyard of the louisiana factory.

Bamboo is one of the fastest-growing plants on the planet, so there's always a ready supply.

The stem is hollow, which makes it ideal for the game call's larger barrel.

After the bamboo cane has been dried for six to eight weeks, they cut it to length--  about 3 inches.

But bamboo isn't the only wood they use for making call barrels.

Others are constructed from walnut, cherry, or exotic woods.

They're harder and a bit more rugged, but, of course, they're also solid.

A boring machine hollows out these solid walnut blanks.

They load them six at a time into the machine's slots, and then lower a holding bar to secure them for drilling.

A carriage moves the drill bits forward, and they hit the walnut blanks dead center.

A worker locks a hollow barrel in a lathe.

As it spins, he manipulates a blade to carve a slightly concave profile.

This will make it easier to grip.

He also cuts designs into the wood, which identify this instrument as a certain duck call.

Each call has its own distinguishing design.

As the duck-call barrel continues to spin, he sands away any burrs or splinters.

What was a simple, wooden tube now has flowing lines and a defining design.

Next, they spin a stone on each end of the barrel, creating a burn that blackens and smoothes the rims.

The game-call barrels then funnel into the clutch of prongs on a revolving wheel.

As the wheel turns, the barrels brush against a series of sanding belts, each one with a finer grit than the last.

This final sanding makes the barrels super smooth.

With a set of pincers, he dips the barrels in a solution to seal the wood inside and out.

The sealant will protect the wooden barrel from rain, humidity, and the user's saliva.

After dipping, he leaves the parts in the sun for several hours to bake on the sealant.

Meanwhile, they machine a smaller barrel which will hold the noise-making parts.

Using a reaming tool, the worker tapers the opening of the larger barrel, and the two barrels now fit snugly together.

A worker buffs the barrel with steel wool as it spins on a mandrel.

The buffing gives the wood a silky texture, and prepares it for a final sealant.

Production now turns to the noise-making insert.

A worker pounds a die into a strip of rigid plastic to punch out the reeds.

It's this part that vibrates against the tone board to produce sound.

The reed's shape varies depending on the kind of call being made.

He aligns the reed with the wooden tone board, and then inserts them part of the way into the barrel of the game call.

He sands a little, wooden wedge that will hold everything in place.

He pushes it into the space between the barrel and the reed and tone board.

Then, using a metal file, he forces the wedge even further into the opening to ensure the parts won't budge.

He slides the larger barrel over the protruding reed and tone board.

After some tuning, the game call is ready.

In a way, hunting calls are like musical instruments-- it takes practice and know-how to use one successfully.

But once mastered, this instrument could attract flocks of admirers.

after all, every game call has a target audience.

according to one theory, mayonnaise originated in the town of mahón in spain, where it was known as "salsa mahonesa".

Mayonnaise makes sandwiches zestier, turns canned tuna into tuna salad, hard-boiled eggs into egg salad, and is a creamy dip for french fries, belgian-style.

Mayonnaise recipes vary, but all have eggs and oil as the main ingredients.

The eggs can be all yolks, all whites, or a combination of both.

At this mayonnaise factory, the raw eggs arrive in liquid form by tanker trunk.

They've been pasteurized to kill off salmonella and other common bacteria.

The egg supplier has also cleaned and sealed the tank valve, an additional food-safety precaution.

A worker clamps a sanitary evacuation hose to the tank.

Then, with a few blows of a mallet, releases the valve.

A pump draws the eggs through the hose into a refrigerated receiving tank.

The second main ingredient, soy bean oil, arrives by railway tanker car.

Like all bulk-ingredient deliveries, for food safety, the tank is sealed at the supplier to ensure it isn't opened prior to arrival here.

A pumping system transfers the oil to a large holding tank.

Meanwhile, factory workers weigh out the ingredients that make up this company's secret blend of spices.

Next, they mix this spice blend with white vinegar, cider vinegar, and salt.

Then they add liquid natural flavors.

They pour this mixture into a large tank of room-temperature water, producing what they call a "slurry".

The raw eggs, meanwhile, have been transferred into a large, refrigerated holding tank.

So now there are three holding tanks at the ready-- a slurry tank, an egg tank, and an oil tank.

A computerized proportioning system extracts the required amount from each tank and sends it to a mixing vessel.

A couple of minutes of mixing at high agitation merges the eggs, oil, and slurry into tangy, creamy mayonnaise.

The factory draws samples periodically and sends them to its quality-control department for analysis.

The lab technicians there evaluate several criteria, such as color, consistency, and, of course, flavor.

In this test, for example, they mix the mayo with phenolphthalein, a ph-level indicator, and de-ionized water to check the acidity level.

Once the mayonnaise passes quality-control inspection, this rotary filler dispenses it into recyclable polyethylene jars.

It fills each jar in just a quarter second.

The next machine twists on a plastic cap.

Inside the cap is a foil seal.

This machine uses targeted induction heat to fuse the seal to the rim of the jar without heating the mayonnaise in the process.

The seal preserves freshness and indicates the jar wasn't tampered with after leaving the factory.

The labeling machine glues on one end of the label, spins the jar to wrap the label around, then glues down the other end.

The quality-control lab also performs some post-production spot-checks.

In this test, technicians use a machine called a viscometer to measure the product's consistency.

The factory also packages its mayo into single-serving pouches.

They're made of polyethylene film on one side, foil printed with the product label on the other.

This multi-tasking machine forms rows of pouches, inserts about four ounces of mayonnaise per pouch, then seals and separates the pouches.

These pouches are shipped to ready-made sandwich vendors and fast-food restaurants whose customers need mayo on the go.

Cavemen sharpened pieces of flint and used them to shave their facial hair.

Modern man can simply go purchase a pack of razor blades for his shaver.

While several styles of shavers and blades exist, many men believe the traditional type of razor blade gives the closest shave of them all.

They're paper-thin, yet sharp enough and strong enough to cut through the coarsest beard.

Razor blades are made from a stainless-steel strip that's a mere .

004 of an inch thick.

The strip first enters a punching machine that stamps out the overall blade shape.

These dull-edged blades-to-be are called blanks.

At this stage of the process, the stainless steel is very soft-- as pliable as paper-- so they now harden and strength it through a four-step heat-treatment process.

Step one-- they heat the blanks in a furnace to just over 2,000 degrees fahrenheit for about 30 seconds.

Step two-- they briefly submerge them in cold water.

This is called quenching.

Step three-- they chill them for about 20 seconds in a deep-cooling chamber at a temperature of -58 fahrenheit.

All this progressively re-structures the molecules, hardening the metal.

However, the metal becomes brittle, necessitating re-heating the blanks for 20 seconds.

The now-hard blanks then move through a printer, which applies the razor-blade brand name.

Gas flames instantly dry the wet ink.

Now it's time for the blanks to become blades.

They enter a grinding and polishing machine.

Within it are three grinding stations which first sharpen the contour, then produce two super-sharp cutting edges.

The blades then pass through a polishing station that removes burrs left by the grinding.

Until now, the blades have been connected to each other.

As they exit this machine, a knife separates them.

The factory's quality-control lab pulls samples from the production line and checks, among other criteria, the quality of the grinding and geometrics of the cutting edges.

Then, every single blade the factory produces is examined for cutting-edge defects.

Technicians assemble blades in packs of up to 800, then shine fluorescent light on the two cutting-edge sides.

This makes defects visible.

Blades that pass this inspection are washed with solvent to remove contaminants...

Then dried.

The now-pristine razor blades go into a vacuum chamber.

It draws a chromium-based coating onto the surface, rendering the cutting edges harder and more wear-resistant.

Next, spray nozzles apply a non-stick coating, which will help the blades glide smoothly over the skin.

To adhere the coating permanently to the blade surface, they bake it on for 20 minutes at about 660 degrees fahrenheit.

Quality-control technicians test samples again, this time to ensure the blades meet strength specifications.

This test machine measures the force required for the blade to cut a thick wad of wet paper to a certain depth.

Back in production, workers submerge the razor blades in organic oil for about half an hour.

This provides additional protection against corrosion.

On the packaging line, the equipment wraps each blade individually in wax paper.

The wax coating on the paper helps protect the razor blade against corrosion during storage.

Wax paper is also stronger than regular paper, so the blade's razor-sharp edges don't cut through it.

The edge of these razor blades are about 10 times thinner than a human hair.

A blade typically lasts about six shaves, so the average male goes through quite a few, considering that, over the course of his lifetime, he'll have spent more than 3,300 hours shaving his face.

In the age of disposable razors, the butterfly safety razor still has an edge.

This precision metal tool is good for a lifetime of clean shaves.

A few twists of the handle, and the butterfly mechanism opens to allow cleaning and replacement of the blade.

With it, getting rid of stubble is very little trouble.

Invented in the last century, the butterfly safety razor has done its part to prevent injuries.

The blade can be replaced without actually touching the sharp edge.

The butterfly doors also close around the blade for a safer shave.

Also known as the twist-to-open razor, this grooming tool is anything but simple.

It's comprised of about 20 parts.

Production begins with solid zinc bars.

They melt down the bars in a big cauldron.

The machine then presses the melted zinc into a mold of three razor parts.

The zinc instantly cools and solidifies into the shape of the parts.

They're linked by more hardened zinc.

A worker separates them, revealing a support structure for the blade, a framework for the butterfly flaps, and the outer casing for the blade-support part.

Breaking them free from one another leaves ragged edges, so a worker grinds them smooth.

But there are still a few blemishes to rub off the surface.

The parts toss about in a tumbler filled with abrasive synthetic pellets.

After about half an hour, the surface irregularities are gone.

Next, a computerized drill bores into the center of a spinning aluminum dowel as a second tool contours the outside.

This transforms the dowel into nuts for adjusting the blade.

They shape the aluminum handle the same way.

Now they apply a more durable chrome finish.

This process involves three electro-plating baths.

The first one gives the parts a copper coating.

Then it's into the nickel bath.

In this case, nickel is a go-between kind of finish.

It will allow chrome to stick to the part.

After a chemical treatment for a matte finish, they plunge the parts into the chrome bath.

A quick rinse in water reveals the result.

The parts now have a resilient matte-chrome finish.

Once all the parts have been fabricated, it's time to assemble the butterfly razor.

A worker drives a threaded insert into the outer casing for the blade support.

She installs a similar insert in the adjustment nut we saw being fabricated early on.

These inserts enable her to screw the two parts together.

She sets aside the nut and blade-support assembly.

She slides a spring onto the razor's center rod.

This spring pushes up the rod to open the butterfly flaps.

She dabs thread-lock glue on the threaded section of the butterfly-flap support part, and then screws the part to the razor's center rod.

Next, she installs the butterfly flaps on the support part.

The various sub-assemblies now need to come together.

She begins with the blade-support structure and brass stem.

She attaches a spring and slides the adjustment-nut assembly onto the stem.

She inserts a plastic washer into the assembly, allowing her to screw the handle onto the adjustment nut.

She now pops the center rod with the butterfly doors into the assembled framework and adjusts the assembly.

She threads a set screw onto the center rod and into the handle.

The screw will prevent the user from turning the handle too far and compromising the butterfly mechanism.

An end cap attached to the base holds the center rod in place.

Finally, she tests the handle and screw-rod mechanism that opens the butterfly flaps and confirms that they're fully functional.

It's taken about 20 minutes to produce this butterfly safety razor.

With regular cleaning between blade changes, it should last for many years.

Good thing, because there will always be a growing need for this reusable shaving tool.


Folding Kayaks
Piñatas
Garbage Trucks
Ceramic Composite Brake Discs

The folding kayak is a seaworthy vessel that can be disassembled and stuffed into a duffel bag.

This boat-in-a-bag concept was developed in germany a century ago.

It's a good fit for the modern traveler's lifestyle because it can be stowed in a car trunk, checked on to a plane, or stashed in the condo closet.

History has shown that when going gets rough, the folding kayak doesn't fall apart.

Adventurers have crossed oceans in them, and today its story continues to unfold.

The kayak frame starts with parts cut from solid ash and laminated birch.

For waterproofing, they dip them in marine-grade varnish three times, drying them for 24 hours between dips.

A worker then rivets metal fittings to a varnished section of the keel board.

It's these fittings that enable the folding kayak to move with the sea instead of against it.

That's because they're made of an aluminum-copper alloy, a metal with a certain amount of give.

He fastens more aluminum-alloy fittings on the cross ribs.

There will be a total of seven cross ribs in this two-seater folding kayak.

The center three will carry most of the load, so they're made of nine layers of laminated birch.

It's super strong because unlike solid wood, it has few knots or imperfections.

He applies a label with the production's serial number to a boomerang-shaped piece of the frame.

This is how the kayak owner would actually assemble the boat on-site.

He locks two sections of the keel board together with the flexible fitting we saw installed earlier.

He snaps the bow piece to the front and hooks rods into fittings installed on the bow.

He fastens a couple of ribs to the keel board.

The gunnels, which are the top sides of the boat, are next.

He attaches one end to the bow and the other to one of the ribs.

The bow and stern parts are color-coded with red-painted fittings for the bow and blue ones for the stern.

All the parts fit together like a toy model.

With both gunnels now attached, he's ready to install more ribs-- the laminated birch ones that form the cockpit.

He completes the assembly of rods.

All these rods will give the kayak directional stability.

He unfolds part of the kayak deck assembly, known as the coaming, and arranges it to surround the cockpit.

He attaches it to the gunnels using metal clamps and fittings.

He slides the two seats into place on the keel board.

And he attaches the back rest to the gunnels.

The frame of this folding kayak is now complete and ready for its custom-made skin.

Over in the sewing department, the seamstress traces the patterns for the kayak deck onto cotton-hemp material and cuts along the penciled lines.

This natural fabric will allow the deck to breathe and yet keep it water-tight.

It's now time to piece together all of the parts, including two long sleeves for inserting inflatable tubes.

Deflated, the tubes will create slack, making it easier to fit the frame into the skin.

Inflated, they make the kayak virtually unsinkable.

Once the thick layers have been stitched together, she's ready to insert the inflatable tubes.

They were pumped full of air to be examined for holes, so she deflates them.

She uses a long pole to extend her reach and push the inflatable tube into the sleeve.

With a synthetic rubber hull now stitched to the deck fabric, the skin is complete and ready for the kayak's wooden frame.

This particular model has been painted black.

If the fit is even slightly off, the kayak won't perform properly.

The skin fits like a glove.

He brushes glue onto the tips of the bow and stern and then presses molded rubber bumpers onto those areas.

The bumpers will protect the ends of the hull casing, which takes a lot of hard knocks.

In total, it takes about 50 person-hours to make a folding kayak.

It should take the owner about 15 minutes to disassemble or assemble one.

For some, it will become a traveling essential, part of the luggage on any trip.

The piñata is a colorful paper-mache object typically filled with candy or small toys, then suspended high from a string.

Blindfolded partiers take turns trying to hit the piñata with a stick to break it open and release a shower of goodies.

From popular cartoon characters to colorful, glittery shapes, today's piñatas are a big hit at kid's parties where children eagerly await the decisive blow that breaks open the piñata, releasing the treats inside.

The traditional way to build one starts with a clay pot suspended from a string.

The piñata-maker glues cardboard shapes to it and secures them by gluing on pieces of newspaper.

Then she covers the rest of the pot.

When the glue dries, she decorates the surface with colorful paper.

The modern method is to use a balloon instead of a clay pot.

After inflating the balloon, she pastes pieces of newspaper all over it.

This technique is known as paper-mache.

The trick is to completely saturate the newspaper with a thick paste and make sure no part of the balloon is left uncovered.

She continues this process until she's built up two or three even layers of newspaper all over the balloon.

Then she suspends it from a clothespin to dry.

Hours later, the paper-mache is hardened into a shell around the balloon, which she now breaks and removes.

Next, she cuts an opening at the top of the shell.

This is the hole through which the buyer will fill the piñata with treats.

She'll later reattach the cut piece to make a trap door.

But first, with the sharp tips of her scissors, she pierces a row of holes along the circumference and threads twine through them.

She leaves long ends at the top with which to suspend the piñata.

This piñata will be star-shaped.

To make each point, she rolls thin cardboard into a cone, taping it closed.

She trims it to the required size, then cuts tabs at the base and bends them back.

She makes seven of these cardboard points, then tapes them onto the shell one by one.

Once all seven are positioned, the decorating with colorful, glittery foil wrapping paper can begin.

She tapes a sheet around each point of the star.

Then she applies glue in between the points and adheres pieces of wrapping paper to those areas.

She folds other pieces into flower shapes and glues them on, as well.

Once the entire piñata is covered, she tapes matching streamers to the end of each point.

Historians believe spanish missionaries used star piñatas like this one to convert the native peoples in the americas to christianity.

The star symbolized satan, its seven points, the seven deadly sins, its beautiful colors, temptation.

Wearing a blindfold represented blind faith in god.

Striking the piñata with a stick meant goodness and virtue battling evil.

Breaking the piñata, releasing a shower of treats or trinkets, symbolized heavenly rewards.

Human beings have always generated garbage.

In the battle to keep the streets clean, the mechanized garbage truck is a combat vehicle.

It crushes tons of trash en route to deliver it to landfills, incinerators, and recycling facilities.

Without it, we'd all be knee-deep in garbage.

Garbage trucks have different approaches to handling garbage.

Some load from the front, other from the rear or side.

And some are entirely mechanized like this side-loader truck.

The operator inside the cab barely needs to lift a finger as the hydraulic lift-arm does all the heavy work.

The garbage truck has come a long way since it hit the street in 1952.

Production on a modern side-loader truck begins with a welding robot.

The robot fuses numerous steel supports to the truck body floor.

These supports will allow the truck to hold up to the force of tons of trash being compacted inside.

Meanwhile, down the line, other parts like the roof and sides take shape in separate assemblies.

Once they're complete, they hoist the large steel parts into place and assemble them within a metal framework.

The framework serves as a guide to piece together all the parts of the truck box.

Once assembled, the workers clamp the parts together to secure the assembly as they weld the seams.

The garbage truck body is then ready for the mechanized parts, beginning with a hopper.

It's equipped with a powerful, hydraulic compactor to squeeze as much trash as possible into the truck.

They fit the hopper snugly to the front of the truck body and weld it to it.

Then they lift the tailgate into position at the rear of the truck box.

They hinge it to the truck by sliding heavy-duty steel pins through brackets.

Once hinged, the tailgate can swing up and out of the way to allow garbage to be discharged.

The driving force for this is a pair of hydraulic cylinders attached by brackets, welded to the tailgate at one end and the truck body at the other.

With that job done, these cylinders can now extend to lift the tailgate and retract to close it.

Across the factory floor, another team assembles a pair of steel lift-arms.

These lift-arms are designed for another kind of truck, the front-end loader.

It's mainly used to collect hefty commercial garbage containers.

In action, these arms pivot around the truck cab and extend to the front to fork up the trash container and deposit the contents in the hopper.

Hydraulic cylinders also power these lift-arms.

When the task is complete, the forks at the end of the arms fold back out of the way.

Nearby, workers test this rear-loader garbage truck.

Its tailgate is split into two hoppers-- one for recyclables and the other for trash.

Hydraulic systems lift them one at a time or simultaneously.

Collecting garbage and disposing of it can be tough on a truck's paint job, so they apply an extra-durable finish.

They spray sealer on the sanded outer surface, followed by two coats of epoxy paint.

After that, they bake on the layers.

Meanwhile, the truck chassis has arrived from another factory.

It's a standard size, so they chop a piece off to size it for the garbage-truck body.

They install bracket plates at the back and slide thick pins through the holes to join the truck body to the chassis.

Using a crane, they lift the automated side-loader truck body onto the modified chassis.

Once it's installed, they test the compactor.

Dual hydraulic cylinders push the ejector blade to the back of the truck.

They test the tailgate--  which has by now been equipped with signal lights, mud flaps, and other parts-- and verify that everything functions properly.

Once a truck passes muster, it's ready to handle whatever garbage society throws its way.

And with these automated garbage trucks, there's no need for anyone to strain their back or get their hands dirty, because these robot arms can handle it.

High-performance cars typically have ceramic composite brake disks rather than regular cast-iron ones.

That kind of power on wheels requires being lightweight, and cast iron is very heavy.

It would also wear out too quickly due to the intense heat friction generates when you brake a car with such a powerful engine.

Ceramic is heat-resistant up to 1,830 degrees fahrenheit.

Therefore, these ceramic composite brake disks last about 60 times longer than standard cast-iron disks.

Ceramic composite means the ceramic material silicon is combined with carbon fiber for strength.

The disk factory prepares the carbon fiber by mixing two ingredients-- a heat-molded resin and chopped pieces of raw carbon fiber, the strength of which lies in the interweaving of its miniscule carbon filaments.

Automated machines pour the carbon fiber into aluminum molds in the shape of the disk ring.

The first filling station fills the mold cavity only halfway.

Workers then fit a slotted belt around the mold and insert aluminum cores into the slots.

These cores will form a ventilation channel in the disk ring to keep the disk from overheating.

Now the mold moves on to the next filling station.

It fills the remainder of the cavity with carbon fiber.

A roller levels the top.

Then workers close up the mold, and a small press pushes down the cover to lightly compact the contents.

The mold enters a large press which applies 20 tons of pressure while heating to almost 400 degrees fahrenheit.

This compacts the carbon fiber and transforms the resin powder into plastic.

Once the mold has cooled down enough to be handled, workers submerge it in cold water for five to eight minutes.

This cools the disk ring completely, enabling them to pull out the cores.

A computer-guided laser then examines the mold to make sure every last core has been removed.

When they get the all-clear, they open the top and bottom sections of the mold and extract the disk ring.

Computer-guided machines then smooth out the rough areas and drill tiny ventilation holes.

They put the disk ring into an oven which, over the course of two days, gradually heats it to just over 1,800 degrees fahrenheit.

This causes a chemical change which transforms the plastic into carbon.

Next, they take a crucible-- a high-heat resistant container-- and position five mounts inside.

They place the disk ring on the mounts.

Then in the middle, a funnel, into which they pour a ceramic material, a fine silicon powder.

Then they load the crucible into an oven for 24 hours.

It gradually heats the disk ring to more than 3,000 degrees fahrenheit, melting the silicon.

Then it applies low-level suction, drawing the now-liquid silicon into the disk ring.

This creates an exceptionally hard new material called silicon carbide.

After a computer-guided drill bores mounting holes, the disk ring goes into a chamber where it receives a coat of protective paint.

The paint shields the carbon in this disk ring from oxygen, which is critical because at high heat, oxygen burns carbon.

This anti-oxidation treatment significantly extends the life of the brake disk.

The paint is cured in an oven, leaving behind a white residue.

A robot sands it off, then polishes the entire disk-ring surface.

Here's what the finished disk ring looks like before it's cleaned and polished...

And after.

Every single brake disk ring undergoes a meticulous inspection.

This sophisticated machine takes thousands of high-definition photographs of the surface, which a computer then analyzes in micron-level detail.

To complete the brake disk, they affix the bell, a circular component in the middle which connects the brake disk to the vehicle.

The bell is made of either aluminum or stainless steel and bolted into the mounting holes in the disk ring.


When it comes to choosing baby's vehicle, as with any set of wheels, there's no shortage of choices.

Some parents prefer sporty models, while others opt for the elegance of a classic carriage.

Either way, it's a stylish experience baby will likely sleep through.

The classic perambulator, or "pram" for short.

While this style of baby carriage is unmistakably british, this particular brand is italian-made.

Production begins with this machine, which bends steel tubing to form the pram's handle.

The machine's every move is computer-guided for accuracy and consistency from pram to pram.

Once formed, the handle is chrome-plated.

They construct the base of the pram's frame out of steel blade.

An automatic feeder pulls the blade off the roll into a stamping machine.

The machine's die cuts 21"-long pieces with rounded ends.

A press then bends each piece twice, forming it to the final shape.

To assemble the base, workers align the pieces in the correct configuration with the help of a template.

They add two steel rods for the front and rear axles, then weld everything together.

The base then goes off to be plated with chrome.

When it returns, following some minor assembly steps, the full frame assembly begins.

Workers mount two large oval, steel springs on the base, securing them with pivoting hinges.

Fold flat for easy transport.

They hammer a rivet into each hinge...

Then, using clamps, lock it in.

The pram has a cargo basket made of chrome-plated, welded, steel mesh.

It hooks onto the frame base.

The pram's handle, meanwhile, has acquired a grip made of chrome-plated steel and genuine leather.

They attach the handle to the frame with a plastic, pivoting hinge which enables the handle to fold down flat for transport.

A spring locking device secures the chrome-plated wheels to the axles.

A foot lever at the rear of the frame activates the brake on both rear wheels.

The pram body has an upholstered covering.

They make it by layering a rugged polyester fabric over soft polyester batting, then fusing the two materials along the perimeter with heat generated by a high-frequency welding machine.

This upholstered covering is made up of three sections.

After trimming off the excess fabric, a seamstress stitches the three sections together, then she lines the interior with cotton, a breathable fabric that's soft against baby skin.

The body structure is made of plywood sides, poplar bottom supports, and sturdy fiberboard ends.

After cushioning the sides and edges with polyester batting, they dress the body with the upholstered covering and lay in a cotton mattress.

After installing metal carry handles, they affix the pram's canopy, driving the screws through the upholstery into pre-drilled holes in the plywood's structure.

The canopy is made of water-resistant laminated polyester sewn over a frame of steel ribs.

The ribs are hinged, enabling the canopy to be opened and locked or collapsed.

The snap-on, upholstered front cover, like the canopy, is made of laminated polyester to protect baby from rain and cold.

Metal pins underneath the body fit into slots on the frame, locking it securely with a lever.

For quality control, the factory regularly tests random samples, putting them through 100 hours of simulated bumpy road at a speed of three miles an hour.

The pram must survive this not very baby-friendly journey with nothing beyond normal wear and tear.

Documents say a two-story, panelized-frame dwelling was shipped from england to the u.s. in 1764, but perhaps the first real predecessors of modular homes were sold from catalogues in the early 1900s.

These kit homes eventually led to houses built in a factory setting.

Not only do factory-built homes cost less, they tend to be much more energy-efficient and versatile.

They are quick to build and offer a variety of space options with all the comforts and conveniences of conventional houses.

They provide ease of living and ease of construction, as well.

In the factory, a worker welds the steel pieces that make up the undercarriage chassis.

Its length depends on the demands of the customer.

Workers move the completed chassis to the next part of the factory.

They pull a layer of polyethylene over the length of the chassis and roll a blanket of fiberglass insulation on top.

Framing for the home's subfloor is in place, along with waterlines and heating ducts.

An assembler nails the framing joist to a perimeter rail.

They apply glue to the floor joists and cover the floor framing with composite wood floor decking.

The assemblers nail the decking into place.

A worker glues vinyl tiles onto the decking.

Flooring comes in a variety of materials, including marble, ceramic tile, carpet, laminate, and wood.

In another part of the factory, framers are working on the home's interior walls.

Building them on tables tends to make them straighter and stronger than walls that are built standing upright.

Workers fill these exterior walls with insulation.

The efficiency of the insulation depends on the climate in which the home will be installed.

Workers apply adhesive to the studs.

They position interior paneling and staple it into place.

This is the factory's cabinet shop.

These specialized cabinet makers use a wide variety of materials and styles to create bathroom and kitchen cabinets, such as this double-sink galley cabinet.

Workers begin putting cabinets on the floor of the home.

In factory-built homes, cabinets are installed before exterior and partition walls have been put in place, making the job a lot easier and more precise.

Once the cabinets and interior walls are done, workers install exterior walls.

They add this wall with the help of a crane.

The wall fits precisely into place.

Both the wall and interior frame are pre-caulked, and when they meet, they form an airtight seal.

Workers move this section to the next station in the factory.

Using a crane, they lower the ceiling system into place.

The ceiling system is all one piece.

Workers lower it carefully, making sure the ceiling lines up precisely with the walls below.

All the walls are pre-caulked, and once they set the ceiling down, it's completely sealed, adding to the home's energy efficiency.

Workers blow cellulose insulation into the attic cavity to form a thermal barrier.

Before adding the exterior roof covering, specialized roofers put wood decking over the trusses and staple it into place.

Pvc piping is used to drain the home's waste water and sewer lines.

Assemblers now install lap siding over a moisture barrier.

Sidings can be composite, vinyl, cement, or wood with different finishes.

This cement board is impervious to bugs and won't rot.

A drywall finisher is inside, taping and texturing the gypsum wallboard and applying plaster to walls and ceilings.

This particular home is ready for off-grid use.

Solar panels on the roof charge batteries by day.

The batteries store power for use at night.

This single-module cottage, like most factory-built homes, can be transported and delivered anywhere in the world.

Comfortable, affordable, and energy-efficient, factory-built houses have redefined the dream home.

The wood flute is one of the oldest musical instruments.

Every culture had a version, but the native american one has a particularly soulful sound and a very romantic past.

For centuries, native men played the flute to court their beloved, and it became known as the courting flute.

Today, the courting flute courts a wider following.

Its appeal reaches beyond the native community.

With two chambers instead of one and a block-whistle mechanism, the native american flute is unique.

It takes less skill and effort to play it, and the tranquil tones offer relief from the din of the modern world.

To make one, a native craftsman cleanly splits a piece of cedar with a table saw.

No need to craft it entirely by hand when there are now mechanized woodworking tools.

With a router, he carves a hollow in one end.

It will be half of the flute's slow air chamber, which is the first chamber to receive breath.

He now shapes the much longer sound chamber.

It's the one that sets the pitch of the notes.

After routering corresponding hollows in the other cedar half, he applies glue and spreads it evenly.

A consistent application is crucial.

Any gaps and the flute won't work.

Me matches up the pieces and clamps them for a solid seal.

The clamps squeeze out some glue, so he wipes it away quickly before it dries.

He cleans up the inside with sandpaper wrapped around the end of a spinning metal rod.

Once the assembly dries, he builds the mouthpiece, using a brand of dark african wood for contrast and then a thick chunk of myrtlewood.

Myrtlewood is finely-grained and hard, so it will hold up to heavy use.

He drills into the wood to carve out the mouthpiece and breaks through to the slow air chamber.

It's time for a spin in the lathe.

The craftsman turns a wheel to move a chain-driven router along the spinning wood.

It shaves the wood a little with each pass to take it from square to round.

He mills the flute between the two chambers to create the nest, a flat area with holes upon which the block will rest.

It's through this area that air passes from one chamber to the other.

He cuts off splinters that could ruin the sound of the flute.

He builds up the nest area with a precisely-shaped flat piece of wood.

He bores through it into the nest hole to reopen it and give it its final shape.

He carves a ramp to compress and speed up air as it passes from the first chamber to the second.

He drills the smaller sound hole.

After he files the sound hole to a rectangular shape, he positions the block over the nest.

It's this wood block that creates the clear whistle tone of the flute.

The length of the tube determines the pitch of the instrument.

He blows into the flute and checks the dial of the digital tuner.

The key is a bit too low, so he cuts the end to take it up to "g" on the scale.

Satisfied with the pitch, he drills six finger holes.

He spaces them in a precise configuration.

The size of the holes vary slightly to help create the desired notes.

He files the edges of the finger holes on an angle to bring the notes into tune.

He tests the flute again.

It's in the correct range--  no tweaking needed.

He now tapers the mouthpiece using a belt sander.

He uses a fairly rough grit to transform the cylindrical mouthpiece into a cone shape that's easier on the lips.

He scrutinizes the newly-sculpted mouthpiece and confirms that the shape is right.

He signs and numbers it with a wood-burning tool.

Finally, he coats this native american flute with protective acrylic.

Using modern woodworking techniques, a centuries-old musical instrument has been updated and it's now ready to entertain.

In the first half of the 18th century, bike tires were made of wood, then metal, and after that, solid rubber.

Finally, in 1888, a scottish veterinarian named john dunlop developed an air-filled rubber tire to give his son's tricycle a smoother ride.

The air-filled bicycle tire continues to be the hottest thing on two wheels, but a modern spin on the concept takes it into the 21st century.

Computer designed for minimal road resistance and aerodynamics, the inflatable bike tire has had a major update.

Additives such as mineral oil, sulfur, and carbon black make the tire more elastic and durable, and they use a combination of natural, synthetic, and recycled rubber.

They weigh and bag it and send it into an enormous hot mixer.

The white blocks are the synthetic stuff.

Other ingredients include anti-aging agents.

During the mixing, a chemical reaction causes the plastic bags to disintegrate, leaving only the desired elements.

The components melt into a rubbery dough, and rollers squeeze it into thick sheets.

This rubber sheet will now be used to make the tire, beginning with the tread.

Narrower strips enter an extruder.

It heats the rubber to soften it and takes it through a die to form a strategic profile for the bike-tire tread, leaving it thicker in the center and thinner along the edges.

The tire-tread rubber now takes a long cool dip in a tub of water.

This solidifies it, setting the profile shape.

An automated spool winds it up with a fabric separator between the rubber layers to keep them from sticking together.

In the meantime, rubber for the bike-tire casing has been reinforced with nylon mesh.

This casing rubber now enters a cutting station.

Blades slice the casing rubber into strips that are the correct width for building bicycle tires.

It will take several to build one tire.

An employee pieces all the strips together for production.

He winds the assembled strips of casing rubber onto fabric backing.

Neatly rolled onto spools, the rubber can be stored until the tire assembly.

And they're ready to roll.

An employee winds the nylon-reinforced rubber around a metal drum.

She then applies two strong, kevlar threads for the tire beads.

The beads will hold the tire to the wheel rim.

Once in place, devices fold the rubber at the sides over the beads.

She then wraps a kevlar strip around the tire casing.

This is for puncture protection.

A machine now rolls the tread rubber onto the kevlar strip.

With all the layers of the bike tire in place, she removes it from the drum.

Then it's over to the branding station.

This worker arranges labels on the tire rubber and bonds them to it with hot metal plates.

The next employee places the tire rubber in a clamshell-like mold.

This mold contains a large balloon, or bladder.

They pump steam into the balloon, causing it to press the rubber against the sides of the mold.

This shapes the tire, including the tread, and fuses all the layers together.

It also transforms the tire from limp to rigid in a process known as vulcanization, and it's quite a transformation.

This is the tire before vulcanization, and this is the tire after.

One tire from the batch undergoes a gamut of tests.

This one simulates road wear.

The tire spins against a metal wheel until it goes bald, usually after several thousand miles of spinning.

This confirms that the tires from this production run are long-wearing and can go the distance.

They also test for puncture resistance and pressurization.

If the bicycle tire passes all the tests, this batch is ready to test human endurance.


Golf Balls
Furniture Handles
Parking Meters
Room Dividers

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

Golf balls.

Furniture handles.

Parking meters.

And room dividers.

Different types of golf balls deliver different results.

Highly skilled golfers often use what's called a wound ball-- a ball made of rubber thread wound tightly over a core-- because its flight is more controllable.

But most people use what's called a two-piece ball-- a ball whose core is covered in a dimpled material.

Today's golf ball has really come a long way if you consider that the early ones were made of feathers.

This is what's inside now--  a bouncy rubber.

They mix it up with other chemicals to make a hot batter and then roll it out like a pie crust, cooling it between two huge steel drums.

Next they push the rolled-up rubbery sheets into this machine, called an extruder.

There's a ram inside, and it forces the rubber through a die.

This makes shapes that resemble large marshmallows, called slugs.

A conveyor belt sends them to a compression-mold machine.

Here a worker positions the slugs in a steel mold.

The slugs often vary in color depending on the type of ball being produced.

When the door closes, the bottom part of the mold presses up into the top part, applying over a ton of pressure.

This is a shape-and-bake system because inside this mold, the newly rounded rubber is cooking at 332 degrees fahrenheit.

Baking it for 13 minutes hardens it.

Then after it's cooled with water, a worker places a piece of slotted plexiglas over the mold.

This holds down the leftover trimmings so that only the ball shapes get picked up by the vacuum.

He peels off the excess rubber for recycling later.

The marshmallow-shaped slugs have now been transformed into a solid golf-ball core.

A robot transports these cores to another mold.

A ram pushes melted plastic through tubes and into a mold cavity.

This forms the outside shell of the golf ball, complete with the dimples that will help the ball travel farther.

This is an inside look at a ball with its new shell.

This injecting-molding system generates four dozen golf balls every minute.

The new balls are on the move.

They roll into a bin which funnels them to a golf-ball elevator.

They're on their way to get cleaned up.

Look closely, and you'll see little pieces of leftover plastic on the ball shells.

The next process will get rid of that.

This is an automatic miller that removes the excess plastic.

This is a golf ball before milling.

And here it is after.

The flecks of plastic have been removed.

Next robotic arms shovel the golf balls towards a chute entry.

This is a quality checkpoint.

If the ball is not smooth and uniform, it won't go through this hole.

Now a wheel rolls the golf balls towards a stamping machine.

Robotic arms carry silicone pads to an etched steel plate.

The pads soak up ink from the etched plate and transfer it to the balls.

The pads brand each ball with a player number, the company name, and the model type.

Then beams of ultraviolet light harden the ink.

They dump the balls into a bin, but they funnel some balls over to another stamping machine.

This one does custom logoing.

Now, that's a stamp of approval.

Next an automated machine sprays the balls with polyurethane while they rotate atop spindles.

The polyurethane protects the ink logos that have been stamped on the balls.

Robotic arms carry the wet golf balls to a drying rack, where they cook at 150 degrees fahrenheit for 5 minutes.

Then they're done.

And that's the technique behind the golf ball.

It's up to you to explain your golf technique.

Imagine a dresser with antique-style brass pulls.

Now imagine that same dresser with country-style wooden knobs or funky plastic knobs or sleek handles in stainless steel.

The decorative hardware on a piece of furniture or on cabinetry dramatically affects its look, so changing them is an easy and inexpensive makeover.

How would we get a grip on things without knobs and handles?

They're more than something that can open doors for you.

The many styles add to the appeal of our furniture.

To make a handle, an electrical hoist drops big chunks of zinc into a melting furnace.

At 800 degrees fahrenheit, metal quickly turns into liquid.

It's so hot, you'd lose a finger if you touched it.

Automated arms move an iron pot full of the liquid to a railroad car, which takes it to the next stage.

Here they pour the liquid metal into another furnace that's just as hot.

This is called a machine furnace.

A hydraulically driven cylinder pushes the liquid metal through a system of nozzles and pipes that run through the furnace.

It carries the liquid metal to a die.

The die shapes the handles cookie-cutter style.

Water flushes through the die.

This cools down the zinc, and it hardens into a handle shape with a lot of extra molding that they're going to have to get rid of.

So, now that they've cooled, it's safe to touch them and remove some of that waste.

A worker snaps some of it off and tosses it into a bin for recycling later, and the handle shapes go into a separate bin.

But there are still some little bits of waste on the handles called overflows, so a mechanically driven spinner tosses the handles around and knocks off any overflows that have been missed.

It's a lot faster than picking off those little pieces by hand.

A worker dumps the handle shapes into a bin.

They're definitely starting to take shape now.

A similar die-casting system is used to make knobs, but the knobs come in two interlocking pieces.

They place them on a turntable and fit them together.

Then a 4-ton hydraulic press presses down on the knob, and that pressure seals them.

They pour a mixture of water and oil on the knobs to cool and lubricate them, while an automated machine drives a screw into the back of the knob.

This makes a thread pattern inside of it so it can be easily screwed onto furniture later.

Now they plunge the handles into a chemical bath.

The chemicals help to conduct electricity.

This process is called electroplating.

The handles are negatively charged.

The brass particles in the water are positively charged.

They attract and connect, and this causes the brass plating to form.

They dip the handles into the chemical wash twice and then rinse twice.

Next they dump the brass handles into a vat of acid.

This oxidizes it, blackening the finish to make it look antique.

This brass pull has aged a hundred years in just a few minutes.

Next they funnel the handles into a big, round polisher.

It's called a bowl vibrator.

The handles are mixed in with steel ball bearings.

The machine vibrates, and the friction from the ball bearings polishes the handles.

Now those antique brass handles have a shinier finish.

Sometimes they use ceramic pellets in the polisher instead of ball bearings.

They spray soap and water into the bowl to lubricate the handles and allow them to move freely.

This gentler friction results in a different finish.

The polish on the handles will be brighter.

Now they put a handle into a clamp.

With air pressure, it squeeze the handle so that it hooks into a backplate.

When the pressure is released, the fit is snug.

A front and backplate gives a handle a more elaborate look.

They buff up a knob with a cloth polishing wheel that's mechanically driven.

This process gives knobs and handles a certain gleam.

It's the finishing touch.

The beatles wrote a song about lovely rita the meter maid, but try finding anyone else singing the praises of those uniformed patrols who ticket your car when your meter expires.

Parking meters have been around since the 1930s, and ever since then, drivers have had to pay for parking.

It's time to find out just how these heavy-duty piggy banks are made.

First the low-tech part.

The time-limit label goes onto a zinc dome-shaped plate.

Then a worker sprays lubricant onto various parts of the motherboard that contains computer circuitry.

After he snaps the board onto the plate, he screws it in.

Then he fastens another dome-shaped plate onto the back, sandwiching the motherboard between the two plates.

The worker hooks the board up to the power source--  the battery pack-- and he tucks the pack into a special compartment so that it's secure.

Then he plugs a programming device called an "x" key into prongs protruding from the motherboard.

The key feeds software to the motherboard inside.

When numbers appear on the screen, it's programmed.

The next piece, called a smartchute, also has computer circuitry.

It analyzes the coins as they fall through the meter.

It can even recognize coins from other countries.

He puts the chute into a protective plastic casing and plugs it into the protruding prongs that were used earlier to program the meter.

The two boards make a connection and can now communicate to one another.

He clicks another zinc plate over the coin chute and adds a stainless-steel coin slot for added protection.

This card is a radio-frequency probe that detects how much money is in the meter as well as maintenance information.

Just how good is a parking meter at analyzing coins?

This particular meter was made in canada.

A canadian nickel and a british 20 pence are roughly the same size.

Put in a canadian nickel, and you get three minutes.

But try the 20 pence.

Nothing registers.

The meter treats it like a plug nickel.

The meters are now in an environmental chamber.

This chamber replicates the most extreme climate conditions.

It's a test to make sure they're ready for life on the street.

Now it's time to make a lock.

He puts a zinc-alloy lock plug containing brass tumblers into a miniature lathe.

The lathe spins rapidly on its axis while pressing against the hard steel blades.

The blades cut the spinning lock tumblers to the appropriate length.

The result?

A lock plug that has brass tumblers of different lengths that can't be opened without the correct key.

Here a worker places the lock barrel in a vise to give a better view of the lock system.

As you can see, it turns easily with the key.

But, vandals, beware.

This lock is designed to be tough to pick.

Next he inserts the lock into the bottom of a coin can that's made of plastic.

He closes it and then puts it on what's called a sonic welding machine.

It emits high-frequency sound vibrations that actually melt the rigid plastic, welding the top and bottom pieces together.

Now these coins will be really tough to get out without that key.

Next he brushes a second lock system with a lubricant and adds a hard steel shield that will resist attempts to drill into it.

This lock goes onto an iron door which will be part of the vault that contains the coin can.

He brushes the lock assembly with another lubricant to make the locking operation smoother.

Then he installs a rubber gasket along the frame for the meter dome window.

This gasket seals the dome and protects the electronics from harsh weather.

He places a tough plastic window on the gasket and tops it with a zinc strap.

He screws all the pieces together.

Then he places the iron case that will hold all the mechanics on top of the vault containing the coin can.

He attaches the windowed cap and strap assembly with hinges.

And there's a third lock to help protect the electrical components of the parking meter.

After a check for fit and function, he installs the actual mechanics.

This means it's all systems go.

The parking meter is ready for the street.

Later the coins can be collected without even opening the plastic coin can.

This special receptacle activates the lock at the bottom of the can.

Once turned, the coins deposited into the parking meter drop into the receptacle.

If you need to section off part of a room, there are many types of room dividers that can do the job.

Accordion doors routinely divide meeting rooms.

Sliding walls made up of multiple panels can easily split a large reception hall in half or partition an office in no time at all.

This particular company makes two types of room dividers-- sliding panels called operable walls and accordion doors.

Both have built-in soundproofing.

The folding mechanism at the core of an accordion door is called a pantograph.

It's made of flat steel bars riveted together in a crisscross configuration.

A worker tightens the rivets just enough to hold the bars in position without impeding their movement.

Then he inserts pins along the top and bottom, securing them with steel retaining rings.

The pantograph is custom-built to expand to the precise width of the door they're making, the pins attached to the covers that will later sandwich the pantograph, forming the accordion door's surface.

To make those covers, they first make slats.

This automated machine hot-glues a band of cardboard onto a band of steel.

Then a series of rollers progressively folds the sides upward, forming a steel edge around the cardboard.

Finally the machine cuts the continuous band into slats, whose length is the height of the accordion door they're making.

Now workers pair up the slats, connecting them with cardboard strips.

They feed each pair into a glue machine.

The slats come out adhered to a soft and flexible type of paper that's tearproof.

Next workers connect six pairs of slats to form a panel.

Then they glue on the decorative surface-- in this case, commercial-quality vinyl.

To block sound from passing through the space above and below the accordion door, a worker glues a felt-and-vinyl strip to the top and bottom of each panel.

After lining the inside of each panel with acoustic wool, a soundproofing material, another worker gathers the number of panels required for the door's width.

He attaches them using industrial-strength steel staples.

Then he slips u-shaped steel channels onto what will be the door's inside folds.

Using an air-powered machine called a serter, he presses the channels tightly in place.

Now he installs the pentographs.

The height of the doors determine how many.

Using steel retaining rings, he locks the pentograph pins into holes on the channels.

The second cover goes on the same way.

After this, workers apply a metal trim to finish off the front and back ends.

They also install a handle for opening and closing the door.

The door hangs by wheels attached to the top pentograph.

Operable walls are made up of several sliding panels.

For each one, workers build an aluminum frame, then install a soundproofing mechanism-- a crank-activated aluminum seal that juts out to fill the gap above and below the panel.

To make the front and back faces of each panel, workers begin with a sheet of gypsum board.

To one side of it, they glue a steel sheet that's at least 4/100 of an inch thick.

This provides soundproofing.

To the other side, they glue a decorative surface-- in this case, laminate, a thinner version of the material used for countertops.

A machine called a pinch roll applies pressure to ensure the laminate adheres well.

Workers slide the face into the frame, fill in the middle with acoustical wool for soundproofing, then slide in a second facing.

They close up the bottom, then test the retractable soundproofing seal.

The last step is to install the wheels that run along the ceiling rail.

An operable wall can have one or many types of faces-- from fabric, mirror, or galvanized steel to blackboard, markerboard, even cork bulletin board.


Balloons
Wallpaper
Frozen French Fries
Incandescent Light Bulbs

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

Balloons...

Wallpaper...

Frozen french fries...

And incandescent light bulbs.

Balloons are used to mark special occasions or to brighten up a day for young and old people alike.

But balloons weren't always so delightful.

In earlier days, they were made of dried animal bladders-- a bit of an unpleasant concept.

In the 19th century, someone invented a rubber balloon which we still use today.

They started mass-producing balloons in the 1930s, and today they're everywhere.

To make balloons, they pour dye into a tank of latex.

They filter it through cheesecloth to remove any lumps.

Agitators at the bottom of the tank mix it up for 15 or 16 hours.

This distributes the color, and it also keeps the latex active so it doesn't congeal.

Balloons come in 53 different shades.

Nozzles spray hot water onto balloon forms to clean them as they move on a system of rollers.

A fixture then flips and dips the forms into a tank of coagulate that carries an electrochemical charge which will attract the colored latex.

On top of this fixture are balloon forms freshly dipped in blue latex, while below a tank full of latex rises, coating more forms on the underside.

The job done, the fixture flips back, moving the balloon forms to an upright position, while below another tray of balloon forms takes the plunge.

The latex dries quickly as a conveyor moves the balloon forms forward toward spiraling brushes.

The brushes roll up the bottoms of the balloons creating lips.

The lips will make it possible for people to grip the balloons in order to inflate them.

The fixture flips again, and the balloons nose-dive into a hot-water bath.

They soak for up to 16 minutes.

This step is critical.

It leaches out all the impurities, including a protein that causes latex allergies.

The hot bath also triggers vulcanization, or rubberizes the latex.

The balloons travel to another station.

Here, the fixture dips them in a mix of talcum powder and water.

This will allow them to be more easily stripped off the form.

And now it's time for the forms to shed their latex skins.

As the forms pass through this station, air jets inflate the balloons.

Rollers at the top grab the balloons as they fill with air and pull them away from the forms.

The rollers shoot the balloons upward, and they topple onto a conveyor belt.

Next, a worker piles the balloons into an industrial washing machine and adds a cleaning solution.

The machine heats to a steamy 160 degrees fahrenheit, while the balloons tumble and nozzles spray water into it.

This doesn't just clean the balloons.

It completes the vulcanization of the latex.

Now it's time to see if they can stand the test of inflation.

A machine blows air into a huge, heart-shaped balloon, and the heart swells but doesn't break.

She holds it against a light to check for imperfections like blisters.

Now it's time to blow some up.

They're sure to brighten up your day.

We've been using wallpaper to add color to our homes for a long time.

The use of wallpaper dates back to 15th-century england.

At first, it was seen as a cheap substitute for tapestry and panels.

But over time, wallpaper gained wider appeal.

Even today, wallpaper is a popular alternative to plain paint.

When it comes to variety and design, wallpaper has really got it covered.

To make the vinyl base for wallpaper, they pour water into a giant mixing bowl, add stabilizing powder and a lot of plastic pellets.

They add solvent which helps to dissolve the plastic pellets into the mix.

Big beaters stir it all up.

It starts to look a lot like pancake batter.

And just as if they were making pancake batter, they add ingredients incrementally-- a little more powder to thicken the mix...

And more plastic pellets for good measure.

When the mix reaches the right consistency, they pour it between rollers onto one side of special paper.

An applicator roller spreads the vinyl mix evenly onto the paper.

A jumbo reel rolls it up and then unwinds it again.

Here, nozzles fill trays with paste.

Rollers pick it up and apply it to the backside of the paper.

Electrically powered rollers pull the wallpaper through a gas oven, drying the paste.

Then they wind up the paper again, creating a giant reel.

A circular blade now slices through the center of the paper.

This turns the one roll into two, each one of them 21 1/2 inches wide.

They pull off a sample piece and tear the paper away from the vinyl.

They're checking the adhesion and if the vinyl is durable and smooth.

Meanwhile, away from the production line, stylists experiment with paint.

They brush colors on a design that they've selected.

They select five to six different color combinations because this design will be printed in many hues.

Each color requires a separate print roller.

The design is engraved into each roller.

A worker applies some ink onto one of the print rollers.

As the wallpaper turns on a big drum vinyl-side up the print roller transfers the image onto the paper.

Each cylinder layers it in a different color, building up the design.

Darker colors are achieved by deeper engravings on the print cylinder because they transfer more ink to the wallpaper.

Conversely, shallower engravings produce lighter tones.

When they have the final proof, they compare it to the original artwork.

If the colors look right, the design goes into production.

There's no turning back now.

The ink is ready, and the paper roll travels through a web of print cylinders.

Here, print cylinders build a dolphin design onto the vinyl side of the paper.

To dry the ink, the paper travels through a hot-blower system.

This is the view from below.

Photos are taken and viewed on a monitor to get a close look at the quality of the wallpaper print.

If it passes inspection, they roll the wallpaper onto a big reel.

Some wallpaper has a flat finish, but they often emboss it, making raised designs.

This creates texture.

Blades from above and below cut the wallpaper into 32.8-foot rolls.

A conveyor system transports the wallpaper to a machine that shrink-wraps it, and then it's off to the showroom, where you can pick your favorite design.

Most food historians believe french fries are actually a belgian invention.

One theory says they originated in the 1680s with poor people who'd resort to frying potatoes instead of fish.

During world war i, fries were popular with north american soldiers stationed in belgium's french-speaking areas, which may be how they came to be called french fries.

This company makes its frozen fries from russet potatoes.

Russets are oval, so they produce longer fries than a rounder-shaped variety would.

Russets are also sufficiently crunchy when fried, and their lower-than-average sugar content means their flesh stays white longer.

When the potatoes arrive at the factory, they travel along rollers that rub off any foreign matter-- things such as soil, small rocks, and plant parts.

The rollers also scrape off the eyes.

The potatoes then enter the washing station.

As they spin in a revolving cage, water jets spray their surface, cleaning them thoroughly.

Next stop-- a sorting machine that divides the potatoes by size.

It's made up of successive levels of vibrating grids.

The shaking forces the smaller potatoes through the grid openings, separating them from the larger potatoes.

Big potatoes become classic, strip-shaped fries.

Small ones become ring-shaped or cube-shaped fries.

After sorting, the potatoes drop into a collection bin.

Once full, its bottom hatch opens, releasing the potatoes into a giant steamer.

After about 10 seconds in the pressurized steam, the skins are soft enough to come off with just a little pressure.

That happens next in this machine called the peeler.

It looks like a giant clothes dryer, except that the drum is lined with brushes.

As the drum tumbles, the bristles rub off the skins.

As the skinless potatoes exit the peeler, workers inspect them, tossing any that have green or rotten parts or pieces of skin still stuck to them.

The type of fries in production determines which of two systems to do the chopping.

A series of rotary, mechanical slicers...

Or a hydraulic system in which running water thrusts the potatoes against cutting blades.

The freshly cut potato pieces drop into a canal.

Flowing water transports them to a conveyor belt that will move them through the next phases.

Now for a high-tech quality check.

Each and every piece passes by a camera in which a computer analyzes size and color.

Any substandard fry-to-be is flagged, and an air jet blows it off the production line.

The good pieces fall into a water tank.

As they soak, sugar leaches out of the flesh so that they'll all turn out the same color once they're cooked.

Then a process known as blanching-- the pieces go into hot water then cold water.

This firms up the flesh and makes the potato flavor more pronounced.

Then it's into the fryer.

The potatoes cook for about two minutes in non-hydrogenated vegetable oil.

As the french fries leave the fryer, excess oil drains down through holes in the conveyor belt to a collection pan below.

The fries now pass through the freezer area which is between 5 and negative-13 degrees fahrenheit.

They take about 10 minutes to freeze.

Once they do, an oscillating conveyor belt deposits them into chutes.

Each chute has a built-in scale set to the package weight which, for this production run, is 8.8 pounds.

Once that quantity accumulates, the bottom of the chute opens, and the fries drop into a plastic bag.

All the customer has to do is drop these frozen french fries into boiling oil for two or three minutes, and they're ready to serve.

The incandescent light bulb is a rather simple device.

Its base has two metal contacts which connect to a metal filament.

The electric current's electrons collide with the atoms in the filament, making them vibrate.

This energy heats the atoms to 4,000 degrees fahrenheit, at which temperature they emit visible light.

The light-bulb factory has two production lines that eventually merge.

One prepares the glass bulb.

The other makes what's called the mount-- the electrical components that go inside it.

At the start of the mount line, a machine cuts glass tubing into pieces of specific lengths.

The cut tubes land on what's called a glazing wheel that runs them through a gas flame for about seven seconds.

This heats the glass enough to smooth the surface.

The glazed tubes now enter what's called a flare-making machine, which heats each tube until the glass is malleable then stretches one end into a flared shape.

The next machine loads two copper lead wires into the flare end, then it inserts a thin, glass cylinder called the exhaust tube.

A trip through a series of progressively hotter flames softens the tubes.

A press then moves in to squash them, encasing the wires in glass.

At the same time, the machine makes a tiny hole in the glass in between the wires.

This is to later remove air from inside the bulb.

It will exit via the exhaust tube through this hole.

Next, the machine separates the lead wires and forms the ends into hooks.

These fasten to the filament, a thin wire coil made of tungsten, a type of metal that holds up well to heat.

The machine coats the lead wires in a liquid form of another metal, zirconia.

This lengthens their life span by making them more resistant to moisture inside the bulb.

Like the tubes we've just seen, the bulbs are made of an inexpensive type of glass called soda-lime glass.

A machine stamps the top of each bulb with the voltage, the wattage, and the company logo.

Opaque light bulbs are simply clear bulbs with an inside coating of synthetic silica-- a white powder.

The coating machine charges the bulbs to 30,000 volts.

Combined with just the right amount of heat, this electrical charge makes a thin layer of powder cling to the glass.

A series of flames evaporates moisture and bakes off any impurities.

As the two production lines merge, a bulb goes over each mount.

Torches then fuse the flared end of the mount to the neck of the bulb.

Arms move in and mold the neck to fit inside the bulb's aluminum base.

The next machine vacuums out all the air in the bulb and replaces it with pressurized argon gas.

This inert gas will resist heat buildup, helping the filament last longer.

After bending the lead wires out of the way, torches melt and seal off the glass exhaust tube, locking the argon gas inside.

The bulb would now be fully functional if connected to an electric current.

But it needs a base in order to screw into the socket of a light fixture.

The base is made of aluminum.

This machine inserts one of the bulbs' lead wires through the middle and solders it in place.

It then spot-welds the other wire to the side.

The result-- two base contacts to line up with two socket contacts.

On their way to packaging, the bulbs undergo what's called flash testing-- repeated light-ups, using a higher voltage each time.

This strengthens the filaments inside, making it less likely to break during shipping.

This factory tests light bulbs regularly to make sure the light output and wattage are what they should be.

One last illumination to make sure nothing broke between flash testing and packaging.

The automated packaging equipment is designed to cushion and protect the fragile bulbs so they don't break during transport.


Spinning Reels
Plasma Protein Therapies
3D Cups
Stainless Steel Beer Kegs

Spinning reels are also called fixed spool reels.

That's because the spool on this fishing reel doesn't rotate.

Instead, a device around the spool does the spinning, which winds the fishing line.

The advantage of using a non-spinning spool is there's no backlash of the line.

A spinning reel provides a unique twist on fishing.

Unlike other reels, the spool doesn't rotate.

Instead, a pivoting, u-shaped wire called a bail spins around the spool to wrap the line.

Making a spinning reel starts with a cylindrical chunk of aluminum.

Computerized cutters carve the cylinder into the rotor that spins the bail around the reel spool.

The transformation is complete.

The cutter sculpts side arms onto the rotor to hold the bail, carving a hole for the spool shaft.

Then a protective finish is applied to the rotor, and the bail is attached.

Next, a craftsman heats a cylindrical piece of steel in a furnace until it's hot and flexible.

Then it's transferred over to a press that flattens the cylinder.

The worker inserts the hot steel puck into a mold.

The top half descends and forces the steel into the crevices.

Tools cut teeth into the part, completing the transformation into a gear.

Next, the gear housing is formed using aluminum alloy.

To trim the excess material from around the edges, designers use a die cutter.

It punches down a part, which then slides down a chute into a bin.

At another station, a laser etches the company name and the product number into the part.

The gear system is now ready to be assembled.

The technician brushes oil on a transmission gear...

Installs it in the gear housing and screws it in place.

Next, a part called a slider is placed on top of the gear.

The ends of the slider are attached to the spinning reel body using thick pins.

The slider moves the spool up and down as the bail spins the line.

Oil is applied onto the neck of the gear body, and a helical pinion is inserted into the gear.

Next, the technician installs a roller element on the extended part of the pinion gear.

A retaining ring is positioned between the bearing and the gear body.

Then a wider steel ring is placed onto the outside of the neck.

An outer metal sleeve holds the part together.

The threaded end of the pinion gear is set on top.

Next, the rotor is attached on the end of the pinion gear and secured with a nut.

This connects the rotor to the gear.

The rotor is tested to confirm that it's operating smoothly.

Another operator places the main gear in the gear body so that the lower teeth engage with the other gears.

The operator slides a metal washer on the gear shaft and links a main axle shaft to the slider.

The operator screws the end of the shaft to the slider...

And inserts thick pins into the gear housing.

They'll prevent the main gear from turning in the wrong direction.

The spinning reel gear system is now complete.

Next, an operator attaches a side plate to the gear body.

This encases the spinning reel's gear system.

The threaded fitting will enable the gears to be linked to a handle.

The reel spool has a drag system inside so the line will slip instead of breaking when pulled by a powerful fish.

A drag adjustment knob is screwed to the end of the spool, then the technician fastens the handle to the fitting in the gear body and checks to confirm it operates smoothly.

An automated testing system turns the handle while water flows over the gear body.

This exposes any leaks that could compromise the internal gear system.

Finally, this spinning reel is ready for action.

Plasma is a yellow-colored liquid component of blood that holds blood cells in suspension.

It's 90% water and contains critical proteins.

Companies harvest these proteins from donated plasma to manufacture medical treatments.

Proteins from human plasma are used to treat shock, bleeding disorders, and immune deficiencies.

First, the plasma is separated from the blood cells and placed in a freezer at a temperature of minus-4 degrees fahrenheit.

This process preserves it until scientists can test its quality.

A computer monitors the temperature and prints out measurements so the team can ensure the plasma remains adequately frozen.

Ready for production, the plasma goes from a freezer to a cooler, and then a warming bath to thaw the outer layer.

A machine collects the bottles and moves them into slots.

A blade slices them open to release the plasma.

The outer layer of plasma has liquefied, but the cores are still frozen.

Then the plasma travels forward to a heated mixing tank.

The agitator and heat break up the chunks, and the plasma becomes liquid.

Transferred to other tanks, technicians expose the plasma to conditions that cause the proteins to become insoluble.

They're pressed into slabs.

In this form, the proteins are known as precipitate.

A technician scrapes the precipitate off the filter sheets and into a plastic-lined container.

An automated system retrieves the filter sheets and takes them through wash stations to remove residual precipitate.

Once thoroughly washed, the filter sheets are ready for the next filtration.

A technician breaks the protein chunks into smaller pieces and bags them for freezing.

This protein is called albumin.

Albumin helps maintain and repair tissue growth.

Next, technicians dissolve the albumin protein in water.

They remove the precipitate from the freezer and pound the outside of the bag to further reduce the size of the pieces inside.

Then the bags of precipitate are emptied into the mixer, causing the particles to disperse.

Over the next day and a half, processing continues to purify and concentrate the albumin.

At the same time, glass bottles enter into a chamber with cameras to take pictures of each bottle.

A computer locates defective bottles and signals a mechanism to knock them out of the line.

The bottles cycle through a washing machine, and then a hot tunnel for sterilization.

They're now ready for the albumin protein.

Needles inject the protein into the bottles, filling eight bottles simultaneously.

A robotic arm inserts stoppers in the neck of the bottles.

Then a machine installs aluminum seals with flip caps.

They crimp the seals around the necks for extra protection.

Technicians load racks of the bottled albumin into a pasteurizer.

The chamber fills with water heated to 140 degrees fahrenheit.

This kills any potential pathogens.

The glass vials slowly spin by a magnifying glass as inspectors scrutinize them for cracks, missing stoppers, broken seals, and other defects.

A technician takes out any product with physical flaws.

As the remaining bottles continue down the line, an inspector examines them again.

This time, visually checking the volume of the albumin protein.

At the next station, labels unwind, and a camera takes a picture for a computer check of the batch information.

The computer confirms that what's on the label is accurate.

Next, specialists place a sample in a petri dish and incubate it for 14 days.

If there are unwanted micro-organisms in the batch, they'll grow.

But if not, the protein therapy is cleared for use.

This protein therapy is now ready for medical emergencies.

Pictures on 3-d cups have depth and appear to move, depending on the angle you view them.

It's a neat trick made possible by a technology known as lenticular printing.

A sheet of tiny plastic lenses is applied to interlaced images, creating a kind of graphic magic to entertain you.

A 3-d cup fools the eye.

Viewed from different angles, the artwork seems to come to life.

It's all a carefully crafted illusion.

Making 3-d cups starts with clear plastic pellets.

An extruder machine melts the pellets to a semi-liquid consistency.

An engraving cylinder forms it into rows of tiny convex lenses.

Water-chilled cylinders cool the sheet of lenses.

This solidifies the plastic, then a gauge measures the lenses' thickness.

A blower device dissipates static.

An ink jet printer prints information on the edge.

This indicates the optical resolution of the lenses, the type of plastic, and the lot number.

Then a rotary blade cuts the plastic into sheets.

The sheets land in a neat stack.

To confirm their size and alignment, an inspector views them against a pitch test pattern.

Another inspector magnifies a sample 100 times and measures the thickness of the lenses.

Too thin or thick, and the lens display won't focus.

With a lens strip clamped at both ends, the machine pulls it from the top.

How far it stretches until it breaks is a measure of its strength.

Meanwhile, a team designs and edits scenes on a computer.

Designers copy the scene, divide it into very narrow strips, and then interlace the strips.

Next, the strips are combined into a 2-dimensional, digital file.

Designers now run test copies known as proofs.

This process tests sheets of colored plastic film which will serve as ink.

The technician layers the colored film in a cartridge with muslin paper.

Next, the cartridge is placed in the printer which creates the proofs.

The designer transfers them to an illuminated work surface and confirms that the images line up with the plastic lenses.

Once the print plates are made, an operator loads them into the printer.

A suctioning arm feeds the lenticular plastic sheets into the printer, reverse-side up.

In this position, the images will be printed on the smooth side of the plastic.

Rotating cylinders transfer ink from the printing plates to the sheets, one color at a time.

This system prints several different 3-d cup images on each lenticular plastic sheet.

The press ejects and stacks the printed sheets.

The 3-d-printed sheets now head into a laminator.

It applies a white film to the artwork.

This film will protect the 3-d images during the cup-molding process.

Next, the sheets are cut into cup-sized labels, placed on an illuminated table and inspected for any visual flaws.

Once approved, the designer clears the the labels to be formed to plastic cups.

Next, an operator loads the stacks of 3-d labels into the cup-forming machine.

This machine will process four different labels onto cups at once.

Each with a different 3-d image.

A robot with suction grippers picks up the labels one at a time and transfers them to cup-shaped mandrels.

The mandrel inserts the 3-d label into the mold of a cup.

Molten polypropylene flows into the mold, and as it solidifies and becomes a cup, the 3-d label fuses to it together.

Robots retrieve the 3-d cups and stack them on their sides to await final inspection.

Then they're packaged for shipment.

3-d cups are no ordinary beverage container.

Rather, they're a fun visual experience for any type of consumer.

Commercial breweries not only bottle and can their beer, they also ship it in kegs to distributors, bars, and restaurants.

Kegs are typically made of stainless steel-- a durable metal that doesn't produce oxides that adversely affect the taste of the beer.

This beer keg is made from a food-grade steel commonly used for cookware.

It's exceptionally durable and contains sufficient chromium and nickel to protect against corrosion.

First, a technician coats a circular piece of stainless steel with lubricant.

Then the steel is placed in a machine called a deep draw press.

The press slowly draws the edges of the metal circle upward for 90 seconds, forming a cylinder with one opened and one closed end.

Next, technicians place the cylinder in a trimming machine, which spins the cylinder against a blade.

The machine cuts off half an inch of excess metal from the open end.

Then the cylinder is flipped and placed in a punch press.

The press knocks out a 2-inch hole in the closed end.

Next, technicians put the cylinder on a fixture and secure a stainless steel neck to the hole.

The neck is welded into place.

This cylinder will form the bottom half of the keg.

Technicians pair it with another cylinder which will form the top half of the keg.

This cylinder has an open end and a closed end.

They align the two open ends in a welding fixture and manually tack weld them together in six spots.

They transfer the assembled keg to an automated machine which welds the tacked perimeter together.

This press punches four holes into a 2-millimeter-thick strip of stainless steel to imprint the name of the brewery.

Next, a roll machine curves the strip.

Then a seam welder joins the ends to form a circle.

This circle will become the handle on top of the keg, known as the chime.

A technician places the circle on the chime-forming machine and brushes on some lubricant.

Automated, hydraulically driven rollers then form the chime in three stages.

Next, the chime is placed on a punch press with lubricant.

The press then knocks out two handle holes.

Technicians place another chime underneath the keg with one on top of this machine, appropriately named the keg crusher.

The machine presses both chimes in place.

Next, an automated lathe welder welds them to the keg simultaneously.

The keg is put through a series of baths, then rinses.

The acid removes the scorch marks left by the welding and render the stainless steel food safe by making it resistant to oxidation, which causes corrosion.

The valve, which connects to the tapping system that draws out the beer, goes through the hole in the bottom cylinder.

This clip ring holds it in place.

Pressed deep into the neck with this tool.

Every keg goes through quality control testing before it leaves the factory.

This is a pressure test to ensure the keg doesn't leak.

Technicians pump in compressed air to three times the pressure the keg would ever have to withstand.

Then they spray the keg with a water-and-soap solution, checking for air bubbles, which would indicate a pinhole leak.

Then the finishing touch.

A silk screen machine prints the brewery's identification onto the keg.

The keg goes into an oven for 45 seconds to cure the ink, which renders it wear-resistant.

These beer kegs are designed to withstand a lifetime of handling because they're transported back and forth between the brewery and the establishments filling the beer glasses.