3D Commercial Signs
Hardwood Floors
Corrugated Polyethylene Pipe
Mattresses

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

Three-dimensional commercial sighs...

Hardwood floors...

Corrugated polyethylene pipe...

And mattresses.

There's nothing like an eye-catching sign to attract customers.

Many signs have three-dimensional lettering or decoration.

Whether you hang a small plaque, an old-fashioned shingle, or a huge overhead sign, a business name in 3-d really stands out.

These signs are made of high-density polyurethane foam-- a material that's waterproof and very durable.

The sign starts out as a line drawing, which they render into three dimensions using specialized software.

They send the file to a computer-controlled router that carves the design into a piece of foam.

The router can be outfitted with various blades to get different effects, such as rounded edges or this faceted effect known as prismatic lettering.

Once they've finished carving the design, they switch the router blade to an end mill-- a cutting tool that slices straight down through the foam.

Guided once again by the computer, the router gradually detaches the design's components.

After coating the pieces with primer, they spray them with two to three coats of polyurethane paint.

It dries to a durable, hard-as-plastic finish.

This design calls for gold and black lettering.

They'll use gold leaf instead of gold paint because it lasts longer and has finer color and luster.

First, they brush on a special glue for gold leaf called size.

They wait 12 hours until it becomes tacky.

Wet glue would merely absorb the gold, producing a dull finish.

Gold leaf crumbles at the slightest touch, so it comes on a paper backing, making it easier to apply.

Gold leaf is available in different qualities.

The lower the karat level, the more alloy it contains.

This is 23-karat leaf-- the closest you can get to pure gold.

Because it contains no other metals, it won't oxidize, tarnish, or dull despite acid rain, road salt, or other harsh elements.

Using silicone and screws, they mount the lettering onto a painted aluminum frame.

Another option would be to mount them on a painted background plaque made of the same foam as the letters.

Designs can also be engraved directly into a plaque and then highlighted using either paint or gold leaf.

They use vinyl film to mask the parts that won't be decorated.

This time they apply loose gold leaf because it's easier to brush into small areas.

When the gold leafing is done, they carefully remove the film.

This factory makes signs out of a variety of materials-- everything from wood to stainless steel to plexiglas.

The material used is determined primarily by whether the sign will hang indoors or out.

Besides lettering, signs often incorporate 3-d objects made of resin or fiberglass.

The factory casts these components in molds, then paints and mounts them.

They'll create this sign in various thicknesses of aluminum.

The same computer-guided router does the cutting, but now they have to continually douse its blade with coolant to prevent the friction-generated heat from melting the metal.

They coat the components with metal primer before applying polyurethane paint.

Assembly is simple.

They screw aluminum studs to the back of all the pieces, then bolt them onto the background plaque.

Thanks to the wonders of computer technology, design possibilities are virtually endless-- a true sign of the times.

There was a time when exposing your hardwood floors meant you couldn't afford wall-to-wall carpeting.

Not anymore.

Hardwood floors are definitely in, and today there are so many wood and stain color choices, hardwood floors can suit any decor.

The types of wood commonly used for flooring include red oak...

Beech...

Maple...

White oak...

Walnut...

Birch...

And ash.

As soon as the wood arrives from the sawmill, workers at the floor factory stack it on racks, then pile the racks floor to ceiling in a dryer that's the size of a large barn.

There, large fans circulate hot air around the racks.

The wood's moisture content is between 40% and 60%, depending on the season.

When that drops to about 7%, the wood is ready to come out.

This drying process takes anywhere from 10 days to a month.

The length of time varies because some types of wood dry much slower than others.

The wood is in random lengths and widths, so the first step after drying is to cut it to standard sizes.

On the way to the ripsaw, the planks pass under an optical device called an optimizer.

In mere seconds, it reads the dimensions of each plank and sends that information to a computer.

The computer calculates the greatest number of standard-size pieces that can be cut from the plank, then guides the ripsaw to cut accordingly.

This maximizes the yield and limits waste.

Flooring is made from medium-quality rather than top-quality lumber to keep prices competitive.

As the pieces exit the saw, workers manually cut out any large knots or other defects-- weak points at which a piece could potentially snap and jam up the equipment.

The pieces now travel to a machine called the molder.

Its revolving steel knives spin at a rate of 6,000 rotations per minute, carving a tongue down one side of each piece and a groove down the other.

Workers do frequent spot checks to make sure the tongues and grooves fit together snugly.

The next machine carves grooves on what will be the underside of the pieces.

This is for air circulation and stability.

Using crosscut saws, workers remove any faults in the wood and divide pieces that have noticeable color variations.

This is the first step towards sorting the wood by grade.

Now a machine called an end matcher carves a tongue and groove on the two ends.

Here's the view from inside the machine.

Workers check again for faults, then, assessing quality and color, sort each piece by grade.

This will be prefinished flooring, so the pieces now run through a sander to prepare them to receive eight coats of varnish.

For certain finishes, the first coat contains wood stain.

All subsequent coats are colorless.

Between each application, ultraviolet lamps dry the varnish in just seconds.

As the flooring exits the last drying oven, it's ready for packaging.

Unfinished hardwood flooring has to be sanded, stained, and varnished after it's installed.

Prefinished flooring eliminates that extra work, sparing you the dust, the drying time, and the smell.

Drainage pipes are vital to many industries.

The pipes are generally made out of plastic, and they're an important component of municipal infrastructure.

Cities use them to prevent streets from flooding in heavy rain.

Forestry companies use them as culverts when building logging roads over streams.

This corrugated pipe is made from a type of plastic called high-density polyethylene, or h.d.p.e.

The pipe factory combines three varieties of h.d.p.e.

Pellets-- plain pellets, recycled pellets, and pellets with a colorant that provides u.v. protection.

The proportions vary depending on the pipe's intended use.

The mixer transfers the pellets to a machine called the extruder.

It first heats them to about 450 degrees fahrenheit.

This melts them into a thick liquid.

Then it assembles what's called the corrugator-- a mold whose cavity is the shape of a corrugated pipe.

The extruder injects the liquefied h.d.p.e.

Into the corrugator, applying vacuum pressure to spread it evenly into all the crevices.

A built-in cooling system hardens the plastic just enough to set the shape, enabling them to extract the pipe from the mold.

The pipe then passes through a cold-water shower, which hardens the plastic completely.

The pipe now enters a machine called the perforator, which punches holes around the circumference.

These holes, whose size varies by model, serve two purposes.

First, they make the pipe lighter and therefore easier to transport and install.

Second, they enable water to enter the pipe constantly at virtually any location, then flow to the end and drain out.

It's crucial to prevent soil from clogging these holes, so this next machine wraps the pipe in a filter cloth made of polyester.

They don't want this filter cloth to unravel, so the machine heat-seals it closed.

This corrugated polyethylene pipe is finished and ready to be packaged and shipped.

The packaging line is highly automated.

Robotic equipment first coils the length of pipe that the customer ordered.

Then it cuts the end.

The robots tie the coil at several points so that it doesn't unravel.

Workers now transfer the coiled pipe to a machine that covers it in plastic stretch wrap.

This covering will protect the filter cloth from the damaging effects of dirt, moisture, and light.

This factory also produces what's called double-wall pipe, which has a corrugated outside wall and a smooth inside wall.

This type of pipe drains more efficiently because water flows faster over a flat surface than over the repeated peaks and valleys of a corrugated one.

Making this type of pipe requires two extruders-- one to form each wall.

Samples from every production run go through several quality-control tests.

This compression strength test ensures the pipe won't buckle under the weight of the earth above it.

High-density polyethylene pipe may be lightweight compared to cement pipe, but it's equally resistant to pressure, chemicals, and abrasion.

Mattress anatomy 101.

The comfort layer is the quilted fabric top and the underlying foam.

The support layer is made up of the interior coils and heavy-gauge wire along the perimeter.

The foundation, or box spring, is a separate bottom unit that acts like a giant shock absorber.

For thousands of years, people slept on the floor on palettes stuffed with natural material such as straw, wool, or feathers.

During the middle ages, family members would set down their palettes around the home's central fireplace.

Only royalty and the wealthy had separate sleeping quarters and mattresses that sat off the floor on a wooden frame called a bedstead.

Beds didn't become common in middle-class homes until the 1600s.

The comfort layer, or quilt, starts with ticking-- a cover fabric made of polyester or cotton polyester.

Under that are layers of polyester cloth, foam, and fiber.

Luxury mattresses contain wool, silk, or cashmere fiber.

The assembled layers go into an automated sewing machine.

It's computer programmed to stitch one of several quilted designs.

A roller compresses the thick pile to enable the 3-inch-long needles to pierce through all the layers.

The two polyester sheets inside the quilt are essential.

One is directly under the ticking.

It acts as a barrier to prevent scratchy fibers from poking through the top of the mattress.

The other is at the bottom of the quilt.

It holds the stitches in place, preventing the thread from moving around inside and ripping the foam.

A cutting wheel now trims the quilt to twin, double, queen, or king size, leaving an extra 2 inches all around.

This surplus ensures the foam will reach all the way to the edge once the quilt's sewn up.

The sewing table is air-cushioned, like an air hockey table.

This floats the quilt, enabling the seamstress to maneuver it easily.

As she stitches the quilt closed, she trims off the excess and sews a polyester band to the underside along the perimeter.

Meanwhile, an automated sewing machine produces the mattress sides from the same ticking used for the quilt.

It stitches the fabric to a foam sheet 4/10 of an inch thick, making a quilted design.

Low-end mattresses have unquilted side fabric.

Elsewhere in the factory, as we see here in slow motion, automated machines produce the guts of the mattress-- the coils.

Low-end mattresses contain continuous coils-- rows of springs formed out of one long strip of steel wire.

Better mattresses contain individual coils, each formed from a separate piece of wire.

This machine is producing open coils-- a type of individual coil used in mid-quality mattresses.

Open coils have an hourglass shape and are made of steel.

Luxury mattresses contain pocket coils-- individual coils that are barrel-shaped and made of steel, manganese, and carbon-- a high-strength combination of metals.

The coils are individually wrapped in cloth pockets to prevent them from tangling together.

This machine is producing open coils.

It first heats the wire with an electric current to make the metal flexible.

Once it forms the coil, it curls the two ends of the wire like a pig's tail.

This pigtail finishing prevents the sharp ends from poking through the mattress surface.

They line up the open coils in rows, then feed them into a machine that connects them by running long strips of pigtailed wire along the tops and bottoms.

Using pigtailed wire again, workers attach thick, steel edge wire along the top and bottom perimeters and steel brackets called edge guards at strategic points along the sides.

These supports are what keep the mattress firm when you sit on the edge.

Pocket coils are glued to each other at the center.

This enables them to move independently so that motion on one side of the bed won't affect the other side.

A reinforcement netting holds the coils in position.

Workers attach the edge wires and edge guards to the outer coils with thick staples.

The rest of the assembly process is the same for all types of mattresses.

After adding two layers of foam, workers attach a quilt to the top and bottom by stapling the polyester band on the quilt's underside to the metal components.

The final step is to attach the sides.

A special machine called a mattress closer joins them to the quilts with a reinforcement strip made of durable fabric.


Footballs
Electric Guitar Amplifiers
Marbles
Airplane Propellers

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

Footballs...

Electric-guitar amplifiers...

Marbles...

And airplane propellers.

In 1869, players in the first football game used a round ball, like in soccer.

It was tough to carry and awkward to throw, so they changed it to look more like a watermelon.

The current shape enables a better grip and passing on an arc that's unique to football.

A lot of people handle a football before it ever gets to the field.

They start with cowhide.

Footballs are traditionally made of this leather because it wears well over time.

With a die, a worker cuts out the four sections that make up the ball's skin.

A stamping machine then brands the skin with the company logo.

They may put other markings elsewhere on the ball, depending on the design of the model they're making.

Each of the sections goes into a machine that trims the pieces' combined weight down to spec.

To strengthen the skin, a seamstress sews cotton and vinyl linings onto all four sections.

Then she places them in a die that positions them for another set of markings.

These four white lines will form two stripes when the sections come together.

This is purely aesthetic and varies according to the football model.

Now it's time to sew the top sections together and then the bottom ones to each other.

Exactly how many stitches this takes is this company's closely guarded secret.

This press makes a hole in one of the top sections for the air valve.

They make eight holes in the top sections for laces that will hold the skin tightly around an inflated bag called a bladder.

To join the ball's top and bottom sections, the seamstress first cups them and then joins the edges together.

She sews the leather inside out to make the stitches less visible.

Later, workers will turn the skin right-side out by reaching through the opening between the lace holes.

This is also where they'll insert the bladder.

It's important to flatten the four seams.

To do this, a worker places each one on a wheel, as a roller passes over the top.

This keeps the ball from being bumpy when they stretch the skin over the bladder.

A 15-second steam softens the leather and makes it easier to manipulate.

A concave press flattens the seams at the tips.

This will also keep the ball smooth when they inflate it.

Time to turn the skin right-side out.

The worker places it on a metal bar, then, reaching through the opening between the lace holes, he grabs the other side of the skin and pulls it through.

Then he runs the bar along the inside to reshape the skin.

The bladder is made of polyurethane, a type of plastic, with a vinyl patch reinforcing the lacing area.

After squeezing the bladder inside the skin, a worker snips off the end of the air valve to keep it out of the way.

Then she inflates the bladder a bit to make it rigid enough for lacing.

After steadying the ball with clamps, she uses an awl to thread the lace through the holes-- just one vinyl lace, measuring four feet.

It worms through both sides and then down the center and through all the holes once again.

The lacing is spaced about a half inch apart-- wide enough to comfortably grip for that magic pass you've got in mind.

Next, workers temporarily overinflate the balls.

Steel molds surround them to ensure they'll assume the correct shape.

After 90 seconds, the extra air seeps out.

Finally, the factory inspects the balls to ensure they're up to standard.

Fully inflated, a ball must weigh no more than 15 ounces.

It should measure 21 1/2 inches through the middle and 28 inches around both ends.

After a five-day manufacturing process, these balls are ready for the field.

You have to plug an electrical guitar into an amplifier if you want it to be more than barely audible.

A guitar amplifier is typically a boxed unit, containing an amp to boost the electronic signal and a loudspeaker.

Some amplifiers use state-of-the-art silicon-chip circuitry, while others use traditional vacuum tubes.

the amp's electronics are housed inside a metal chassis.

This model's chassis is made from a sheet of metal that's less than .

04 inches thick.

A computer-guided machine called a turret punch cuts the contour and pierces a series of holes and slots for the controls.

A worker then uses a computer-guided bender to shape the chassis cutout.

Elsewhere in the factory, the amp's circuit board takes shape.

It'll go inside the chassis.

A computer-guided drill makes tiny holes in a laminate board that's coated with copper.

The holes are for the board's various electronic components.

An automated silk-screen printer now applies a diagram of the electrical circuitry in ammonia-resistant ink.

Then the board goes into a machine called an etcher, which uses ammonia to dissolve the copper coating.

Copper shielded by the ink diagram stays intact.

The machine then rinses the board with sodium hydroxide to dissolve the ink, leaving behind just the circuitry diagram and copper.

This copper configuration will conduct electricity to the circuit-board components.

Automated machines insert the smaller components.

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

And at actual speed.

As a worker provides counterpressure, a machine folds over the leaves of some larger components to secure them to the board until they're soldered.

Workers then install large, irregular parts by hand, among them--  the sockets that hold the tubes which power the amp...

The ribbon connecters that join different areas of the circuit board...

And the wires that connect external components to the board.

The factory permanently affixes everything in one shot, using a process called wave soldering.

The circuit board runs through a bath of molten tin and lead.

In just a couple of seconds, the liquefied metal hardens, bonding the components securely.

Back to that steel chassis we saw them bend into shape earlier.

Since then, they've painted it black.

With a silk screen printer, they apply the control markings, logos, and other information.

They begin the final assembly.

First, they screw the circuit board into the chassis.

Then they plug the preamp tube into the appropriate socket on the board.

This tube boosts the electrical signal coming from the guitar and feeds it to the output tubes, which up the voltage level, making the signal stronger and louder.

After installing control knobs and covering the bottom of the chassis, workers insert and clamp the output tubes, the number of which usually varies according to how many watts of power the amp is designed to produce.

The chassis housing the electronics goes into a box.

This factory builds its boxes from high-grade baltic birch plywood, but other companies often use domestic plywood, mdf, or even plastic.

After covering the box in leatherette and adding corner reinforcements, they install the two remaining components-- the spring reverb...

And the speaker.

As the guitar's electrical signals run through the amp, part of the electrical signal diverts to one end of the spring, vibrating it.

The spring's other end picks up this vibration and sends it back through the amp as a delayed signal.

That reverberation combines with the original signal to produce a bigger sound.

people have been playing with small balls of stone, clay, or marble since ancient egyptian and roman times.

Today's marbles are actually made of glass and used for industrial tasks as well as games.

Glass is not only inexpensive and durable, but also quite beautiful.

To make marbles, this company melts recycled glass with marbles made earlier but rejected for being the wrong size.

All this goes into a kiln heated to 2,200 degrees fahrenheit.

After 16 hours, they open a door at the bottom of the kiln, and the molten glass flows out.

A shearing device cuts the stream every half a second, forming segments called slugs that become marbles.

To make different-sized marbles, they adjust the device to cut at shorter or longer intervals.

The slugs slide down chutes, landing between grooves on spinning cast-iron rolls.

The spinning keeps the slugs from sticking.

They'll need 72 hours to cool completely, but their final appearance is already set.

That was determined back in the kiln, when the airflow drove the heat to melt the glass and mix the colors.

These channels separate the good from the bad.

Openings along the way weed out the ones that are too big or too small and collect the ones that are just right.

More intricate marbles are handmade.

This craftsman first preheats some clear glass in a small oven.

Then he breaks off a piece of colored glass.

After the clear glass has melted in the furnace overnight, he gathers some on a steel rod then picks up a chunk of preheated colored glass with it.

He forms a knob and works the mass into a long string that's up to 16 1/2 feet long and thin as a noodle.

He'll use them in various colors to decorate the clear glass cores of the marbles.

He gathers a clump of melted clear glass on the rod and shapes it with wet newspaper, which won't stick to hot glass.

After shaping the end, he rolls the clump on several preheated colored glass strings.

Then it's back in the furnace.

He repeats these steps up to three times and rolls the clump on a metal table to even out the surface between each trip to the furnace.

Then he adds a layer of clear glass on top.

With another tool now, he stretches the clump to about 1 1/2 feet long.

He'll use this to make several cores.

To make the second layer of the core, he rolls a 2-inch-long segment onto colored glass slivers called ribbons.

After rolling them in the furnace to melt them, he flattens the ribbons with pliers and snips off the excess at the ends.

He wraps the core and the ribbons in a layer of clear glass, then hand-shapes it.

Now he rolls the core on more glass strings.

Then it's back in the furnace to meld them.

He adds one more clear glass layer, and the inside is finished.

That's a total of six layers for this marble.

Other models have fewer or more.

The craftsman shapes the glass with several metal and wooden tools.

He measures the diameter with metal calipers and gradually sculpts a sphere.

He'll make up to five marbles from this segment, ranging up to the size of a golf ball.

After scoring the glass with a knife, he places it in the open end of a pipe to hold it.

Then he gently taps the rod, which breaks the glass and releases the sphere.

He melts away the bump left at the spot where the glass broke.

Next, the marble goes into an oven at 986 degrees fahrenheit.

The oven slowly cools overnight to strengthen the glass.

Clearly a cut above, this eye-catching, handcrafted marble is already an object of art.

An airplane propeller usually has two, three, or four blades, the angles of which the pilot can adjust in response to airspeed and flight conditions.

A propeller's main parts are made of aluminum because it's critical to keep it as lightweight as possible.

The blades and hub are made of aerospace-grade aluminum that resist corrosion and metal fatigue.

The propeller's blades attach to a hub.

This piece of aluminum is on its way to becoming that hub.

Like the starting pieces for all parts, it was forged beforehand into a rough version of the final shape.

This sophisticated, computer-guided mill now machines the piece.

40 minutes later, the hub is finished and ready for assembly to the engine.

This roughly shaped piece is about to become one of the propeller's blades.

A computer-guided lathe machines it to the final shape.

Liquid lubricant washes away the metal shavings and cools the friction-generated heat.

The lathe first forms the shank-- the end of the blade that fits into the hub.

The next milling machine cuts the blade's shape.

Now the finishing steps-- done manually because they require a keen eye.

Workers use a rotary sander, then a belt sander to grind away the marks the machining process left behind.

They buff the metal with a polishing wheel...

Then clean the blades by dipping them in a strong detergent.

This acidic solution eats away any dirt, oil, or grease on the surface of the metal.

After that, they dip the blades in a bath of water and chromic acid.

This seals the pores in the metal, fending off corrosion.

The factory tests all critical parts for surface defects by dipping them in a fluorescent solution that leaches into any imperfections.

After rinsing, an inspection under black light.

A blue glow means the parts are a-okay.

Any imperfections show up as bright, fluorescent green.

The defective part is either repaired or rejected from the production line.

Blades that make the cut move onto the paint shop-- a coat of black on the back side to prevent sun reflection into the pilot's eyes and stripes for safety, to make the spinning blades visible.

Next comes a de-icing boot-- a rubber-encased electric heating element that prevents ice buildup.

The rubber is highly durable, yet flexible enough to mold to the curve of the blade.

Next, they lubricate a part of the blade shank with grease, then install a strong steel-ball-bearing system.

This will hold the blade securely in the hub, yet still enable it to pivot to change its angle.

The shanks of the three blades fit right into this steel part called the fork.

It keeps all the blades at the same angle.

Now for what's called the pitch change rod.

The term "pitch" refers to the angle of the blades.

Engine oil will exert hydraulic pressure on a piston that moves the pitch rod, which advances the fork, rotating the blades to the required angle.

After removing the pitch change rod temporarily, they apply sealant to the top half of the hub and place it over the bottom half that contains the ball-bearing set.

A rubber o-ring seal, then a sturdy spring to provide the required counterpressure.

Workers thread and torque the piston and pitch change rod-- now attached to each other--  to the fork.

Another rubber o-ring-- this one to prevent leaks out of the top of the cylinder that will contain the engine oil.

They use a special tool to tightly torque the cylinder down against the hub.

With assembly complete, this propeller is ready to be installed on today's airplanes.


Fur Coats
Hearses
Outdoor Lighting Fixtures
Golf Tees

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

Fur coats...

Hearses...

Outdoor lighting fixtures...

And golf tees.

Fur coats have been around through thick and thin.

They used to be very bulky, but today's garment is much thinner because of new manufacturing techniques.

The new lightweight fur coats are also cut closer to the body, but they still provide old-fashioned warmth.

Today fur coats are made for a changing market that values less bulk and more texture.

The beaver pelt now undergoes multiple transformations until it doesn't even resemble the original pelt.

They steam the fur to fluff it up.

Then they give it a static charge to make the hair stand on end.

The pelt then goes under a row of little blades several times.

This shears the fur so the hairs are uniform and the pelt less bulky.

But because the downy undercoat is the most insulating part, this fur will still be warm.

Grooving is a new technique that involves carving a pattern into the dyed fur.

The blades cut a zigzag pattern down the length of the fur, giving the beaver pelt a unique look and feel.

Now the furrier demonstrates a process called letting out.

He feeds a pelt to a machine that slices it into diagonal ribbons.

Yes, he's cutting it to shreds, but when this process is complete, they'll have a new and improved fur.

They sew the diagonal strips together, arranging each a little lower than the last.

They use a special fur-sewing machine.

As the operator feeds the strips, he pushes the fur down so it doesn't get caught in the seam and ruin the look.

It's something that takes skill and experience.

The narrow strips of fur created by this letting-out process will run the full length of a coat.

It's a more flowing look than simply sewing whole pelts together, but it also makes the fur a bit rippled.

A process called blocking will correct that.

They wet down the leather of the pelt.

Then they split it a bit at the end to fit the pattern that's been traced onto a board underneath.

They staple the fur onto the pattern.

After leaving it to dry overnight, they trace the original pattern onto the leather side of the fur, now smoothed out from the stretching.

They mark a spot for a pocket and trim the fur to the pattern so the dimensions are now exact.

Specialized finishers sew a cloth pocket into the slit prepared for it.

They stitch in the zipper and then cut out pieces of silk to line the coat.

Before they sew in that lining, they build up the front edges of the garment by tacking lamb's wool on the inside edging.

This will add structure and help the fur hold its form as they put it in the lining.

Starch-cotton tape now goes into the hem of the coat to keep the fur from stretching.

Handcraftsmanship has always been a key element of the fur industry.

Every fur gets these hand-stitched finishing touches.

Once the label goes on, this fur coat is ready for a night on the town.

We all have to go sometime, and when it's our time, a hearse will likely be waiting to take us away in style.

Hearses are all about luxury, because luxury says dignity and respect.

From the plush custom interior to the stretched and streamlined design, it's nothing but the best for our dearly departed.

It's the final journey, and the vehicle is custom-made for the occasion.

They start with a cadillac chassis.

It's been built without rear doors, rear windows, backseats, trunk, or rear bumper.

They park in a master-framer jig and immediately slice it in two, using a reciprocating saw that cuts through metal like butter.

The jig allows the two halves to be pulled apart so there's just under 31 inches between them.

Then they weld rails to join the two halves.

They encase each new frame rail with a support piece.

The framework for a hearse has to be extremely solid because it will carry heavy loads for many years.

The base cadillac also has more structural reinforcements than a regular vehicle, like stronger wheels and suspension.

They hoist the steel rear cage and roof frame onto the car, and they build up the roof with steel rails.

The framework for the casket-loading door goes on next.

Once the rear cage and chassis extensions are in position, they mount the panels, which are made of a blend of fiberglass and space-age materials.

Adhesive seals the panels to the steel skeleton...

And they secure all the panels in place with screws.

This is a made-to-measure job.

The panels precisely fit to the welded cage.

Meanwhile, over in the press room, they roll a nonstick coating onto a die, then place a sheet of steel over it.

They also give the steel a coat of the nonstick agent.

An 850-ton press then pushes the steel into the die to shape the door of the funeral coach.

The nonstick coating allows them to remove the door easily without damaging it.

They attach the door to the back of the hearse using superstrong hinges because they'll have to stand up to a lot of wear.

This door is high and wide and opens 135 degrees to allow for easy loading of the casket.

After smoothing out the seams in the body and giving it a high-gloss paint job, they cover the roof with a foam pad.

They place vinyl material over it and pull it snugly around the corners.

They line the deck of the hearse with a heavy-duty laminate.

Next they put up the head liner, the fabric that covers the ceiling of the hearse.

They mount the hardware that will allow the casket to easily roll in and out of the coach.

Finally, the "custom built" sign.

From the lustrous paint job to the lush, curtained interior, the funeral coach has an ethereal look-- appropriate since it's designed to make an exit that's out of this world.

Day or night, streetlights light up our lives.

Typically standing as high as 26 feet above the sidewalk, they cast a warm glow in the darkness and continue to provide street decor during the day.

This fixture, called a luminaire, starts as a technical drawing.

To make certain parts of the luminaire, the factory uses a process called sand-casting.

To create the internal features of the sand mold, workers take a wooden mold for the part and fill it with a mixture made of white sand.

They insert a wire into the center to make an opening...

Then inject carbon dioxide into the opening.

This causes a chemical reaction that hardens the sand.

They remove the white-sand piece, called the core, from the wooden mold.

To cast the external parts of the luminaire, workers start with a mold made of aluminum.

Inside it, they build another mold made of brown soil.

They place a wood block on top and pack down the soil.

They do the same on the other half of the mold.

Now, with a copper pipe, they make holes in the soil mold-- one in which they pour molten aluminum, the other to vent air.

They spray the inside with compressed air so no particles will stick to the cast piece.

They position the core into the soil mold.

Keys in the soil mold help them position it exactly.

Then they pour molten aluminum into the mold.

Aluminum is an ideal metal for streetlights because it's lightweight, rust-resistant, and it won't stick to the soil mold.

After two to five minutes, they open the metal frame and shatter the mold.

They use a drill to remove the white sand piece from the inside of the cast-aluminum part.

Next they sand down the part to make it smooth.

Automated drills then pierce pilot holes for various hardware.

A welder places a bracket in a vise, then welds a decorative tube onto it.

Next he welds an anchor plate onto a pole.

The upper part of the pole is welded to a larger bottom part.

All the poles, brackets, and luminaire parts go into a series of chemical baths to prepare them for painting.

The model shown here comes with tempered-glass or polycarbonate lens finishes on all four sides.

They install the lighting system.

First they position the bowl-shaped aluminum piece.

Then the lamp socket is mounted with the electrical components inside the aluminum bowl.

Finally they install a reflector inside the hood to project the light toward the street.

They apply labels with product and maintenance information into the fixture's hood.

Now they can close up the luminaire and mount it on a pole or bracket.

And let there be light.

Before golf tees became popular, players would tee up their ball on a little mound of sand.

The first peg-style tees were invented more than a century ago, but they didn't really catch on until the 1920s, when one company marketed them aggressively, using professional golfers to promote them.

That wooden peg you stick in the ground to hold the ball is almost as important as your golf club.

You use a tee on the first stroke of each hole to give your drive shot extra distance.

At the sawmill, white birch logs are scaled at the small end.

Just one 8-inch diameter log yields close to 3,000 golf tees.

The logs go into what's called a step feeder.

This conveyor transports them to a debarking machine.

Then a slasher saws the log into shorter lengths.

The thumper roll, a roller with steel teeth, secures each log to a sharp chain.

This holds the log in place as it heads for the saws.

Four saws work their magic, carving the 4-1/2-foot boards into shorter dowel boards, each measuring 18 inches.

Then a series of chains lay down the dowel boards in a single file on what's called a molder-and-feed roll.

The molder's two rotating heads transform the rectangular board into round dowels.

An outfeed roll drops each dowel onto a belt for several quality-control checks.

An inspector examines the dowels, removing defective pieces and setting aside dowels that need more cutting.

A single inspector sorts close to 19,000 dowels per hour.

They go into racks that hold 8,900 dowels each.

Rack after rack now travels into a lathe.

A blade whittles the dowel to a preliminary shape.

This tool, called a trumpet, moves over the dowels, sculpting the tee's final shape.

A blade simultaneously slices the tee from the dowel and forms the cup.

The metamorphosis is almost complete from wooden boards...

To dowels...

To tees.

Next the tees go for a tumble in a sanding drum.

This cascading action has the tees sanding each other's surface until they're smooth.

The slots on this machine separate the good tees from the bad ones and screen out the waste.

Long, nail-like bumps on the machine divide the tees so that only one drops down at a time.

The tee fits through only if it's perfectly shaped.

The rejects and wood shavings roll across the top and land elsewhere.

The good tees land in a big bin, called a tote.

Golf tees come in a few different lengths, but your average one is 2 1/2 inches long and weighs .

02 grams, so a tote typically holds some 100,000 tees.

A tote dumper then dumps two totes of tees into a paint drum.

Small steel flights inside the drum send the tees cascading in a uniform direction.

With each turn, they pick up paint.

It takes 2 hours and 10 gallons of water-based paint to fully coat the tees, then another two hours to dry the paint.

A trapdoor releases the tees into a vibrating conveyor and into a tote.

If these tees will have printing on them, there's still one more step.

They get an extra coat of enamel paint to create a smooth surface for the ink.

Shiny or mat, plain or printed, the golf tee has sure come a long way since the days of teeing off on a mound of sand.


Ceramic Grills
Pneumatic Punchers
Water Jet Fountains
Hollow Wooden Surfboards

Ceramic is one of the best insulation materials in the world.

Grills made with ceramic bodies can bake, roast, smoke, and, of course, grill food.

Ceramic grills retain more heat than metal ones, resulting in a juicier, more flavorful meal.

Ceramic grills use natural-lump charcoal.

Natural charcoal is made by carbonizing wood through a specialized heating process.

Cooking with natural charcoal is just like cooking over a campfire.

At this factory, they begin by making a slurry.

The main ingredients are water, clay, feldspar, and other raw materials.

When the slurry is fired at a high temperature, it hardens into ceramic material.

Another team assembles the two-part plaster mold to cast the base of the grill.

After cleaning off residue from the previous casting, they clamp the parts together.

The mold has two funnels.

One funnel pumps the slurry into the mold.

The other allows air to exit as the slurry fills the gap between the two parts of the mold.

They let the slurry set for several hours.

The plaster mold absorbs 80% of the water, leaving a firm but damp casting.

They remove the top part of the mold and trim off any excess material.

They cut out a rectangular hull for the sliding draft door.

The door allows cold air to enter the grill.

Then a worker uses a vacuum attached to a hoist to remove the heavy grill base from the mold.

They repeat this casting process for the other ceramic parts of the grill, including the top called the dome and the fire box, which sits inside the base and holds the charcoal.

After each casting, they scrape and sand away the excess material.

They roll the cast parts into a dryer to remove the remaining moisture.

For the next 30 hours, blowers circulate air that's heated to 180 degrees fahrenheit.

After the parts cool, the base and dome undergo a final touch up to perfect their exterior surfaces.

Next, the parts are taken to an automated glazing station.

A conveyor spins the parts under a shower of ceramic glaze.

A worker checks the coverage and sprays a touch up where required.

The glaze dries in about 20 seconds.

Workers vacuum up the excess...

Then temporarily assemble the grill for firing.

They place the fire box inside the base, the base plate at the bottom of the fire box, and the dome on top of the base.

They fire the grills in a huge kiln for 24 hours.

They gradually increase the temperature to more than 2,300 degrees fahrenheit, hold it there for a set time, then gradually cool it down.

This firing process triggers a chemical reaction that transforms the clay-based slurry into hard, heat-resistant ceramic.

It also turns the glaze on the surface into black glass.

After firing, they attach the stainless steel draft door to the base.

They spread adhesive on the top edge of the base...

And apply a gasket made of heat-resistant material.

This creates an air seal between the base and the dome.

Then they attach the two parts with a hinge.

They insert the fire box and stamp it.

Then they glue a gasket around the neck of the dome and install the top vent.

They place the cast-iron grate that holds the charcoal and the porcelain-coated cooking grates inside the grill.

The cast-iron grate holds the charcoal.

The porcelain-coated grate is for cooking.

Finally, they install the thermometer.

After lighting the charcoal, grillers can adjust the air flow with the draft door and top vent.

The draft door and top vent must be fully closed to shut off the grill.

This cuts off the air supply and extinguishes the fire.

Many factories use punching machines to make the parts they need.

Older punching machines consisted of a large press powered by a separate hydraulic or pneumatic system.

Today's smaller punching machines contain both of these components in a single device.

These punching machines are used in factories that make aluminum window and door frames.

A factory worker inserts a strip of extruded aluminum in the machine and presses a foot pedal.

The punch strikes the die, making the required cut.

They construct the machine out of steel and aluminum, both of which arrive at the factory as solid bars.

First they saw the bars into smaller pieces so they can make the machine's various components.

They place the aluminum pieces in a computer-guided milling machine.

It uses a series of tools to shape the metal into a specific component.

This piece is called a punch guide.

Its job is to align the punch tool so that it strikes the die correctly.

A worker grinds the edges of the part until they're smooth.

A different milling machine cuts more resilient parts out of steel bars.

It, too, is computer guided and follows technical specifications.

This steel component is the punch tool.

It strikes through a steel die manufactured the same way.

Every machine part undergoes a meticulous quality-control inspection.

This computer-guided sensor checks each piece.

Once all the parts have passed testing, workers begin assembling.

The machine's base houses the air cylinder.

They position the die on top of the base and screw it in place.

Then they install the punch, carefully centering it over the die.

A worker hooks up hoses to the air cylinder.

He tests everything to make sure it's properly aligned with the die, then he fastens it with screws.

They install the floor of the machine's second level.

A machine can hold up to three different dies on three separate levels.

They position the second die on the guide pins, then install the ceiling of the second level.

They glue the punches to the ceiling.

This level has several punches, allowing the machine to make different cuts using the same die.

The cuts can be simultaneous or continuous.

They install a punch selector which allows users to activate or deactivate each punch.

Once installation is complete, they test the alignment of the punches.

Then they mount safety covers on the machine.

They prevent workers' hands from accidentally getting caught between a punch and die.

Next, they make the pneumatic system that powers the machine.

First, they attach air hoses to the foot pedal.

The operator will step on the pedal to punch out the metal.

Then they hook up the other end of the hoses to the compressed air-supply line.

Now the pneumatic punching machine is ready to be used at the window-and-door factory.

A worker inserts a strip of extruded aluminum into the first die to notch the end, then into the second die to punch three holes to join the window-frame parts.

Finally, the third die punches three screw holes on the opposite side.

The machine saves time because they don't have to switch dies between each cut.

Water is essential to life on earth.

We need it to survive, but we also use it for entertainment.

Water-jet fountains captivate audiences with incredible displays.

Some even use lights to change the appearance of the water's color.

These water-jet fountains send spiraling ribbons of color into the air.

The effect is magical.

Production starts with this cast-bronze part.

Computerized tools transform it it into a flange that will be installed on-site.

The flange is designed to prevent leaks where the pipe meets the concrete pool.

The next part is a stainless-steel faceplate for the fountain.

An employee places it on a template, closes a u.v.-light shield, and activates a laser.

The laser etches product information into the steel.

This branding is permanent and won't wear off.

Next, a technician assembles the colored l.e.d. lights.

He connects the circuitry to a cable, then slides the bulb and its housing on to the circuitry.

He screws a metal ring on to the base to keep the light watertight.

He immerses the light in a clear water tank to test it.

He switches on a vacuum to suck air out of the tank, simulating underwater pressure.

He checks for bubbles around the light, which would indicate a leak.

He programs the light for the water show so that different colors flash on cue.

The next employee prepares an epoxy sealant.

He pours the epoxy into the solenoid controller for the water-fountain jets.

It takes two hours to dry.

Once solidified, it will protect the components from water damage.

Then he assembles the carriage for the fountain jets.

He places the carriage on a spring-loaded slide and secures it with long-threaded rods.

The worker applies sealant to the ends of the rods and screws on the nuts.

He installs a plastic nozzle cup.

He secures it to the carriage with a center pin that has a swiveling mechanism.

He transfers the carriage assembly to a water-distribution manifold and screws it in place.

He tests the carriage and confirms that it slides freely on the springs.

Then he runs plastic tubing from the water-distribution manifold to the spouts of the nozzle cups.

The worker secures the joints with plastic zip ties.

Then he trims the ties using a special gun.

He attaches the solenoid controller to the carriage and connects the controller to the various air tubes that lead to the waterspouts.

He places the water-jet assembly on the back of a steel mounting plate and secures it with screws.

He inserts two l.e.d. lights in specially designed slots, then screws them in place.

This water-jet fountain is now complete.

He hooks it up to a compressed air source for a dry-bench test.

He confirms that the compressed air moves the carriage correctly in the programmed sequence.

He also connects the water jet to a mechanical sequencer to verify that it's functional.

After it passes the tests, he seals the perimeter of the jet with a rubber gasket and the faceplate.

This water-jet fountain is ready for installation.

When combined with other fountains, it will put on quite a show.

Onlookers will be so engaged, they won't mind getting a little wet.

People have been surfing on wooden boards for thousands of years.

These early surfboards were heavy because they were made of solid wood.

Today, surfers are taking this classic material and giving it a modern twist, creating beautiful, lightweight boards from sustainable resources.

When most people think of surfboards, they picture brightly colored boards made of foam and fiberglass.

But wooden surfboards are making a not-so-surprising comeback.

Every waterborne vessel was originally made from trees because, no matter what, wood floats.

They start by gluing two planks of poplar to a strip of oak.

Using a template, a craftsman draws the shape he wants for the surfboard.

He uses a japanese pull saw to cut the shape out by hand.

This is the basic outline of the surfboard.

A cnc router quickly and accurately cuts the inner support framework from poplar plywood.

The builder sources wood from suppliers who use sustainable forestry practices.

Using his pull saw, the craftsman carefully frees the pieces of the support framework.

Then he smoothes the edges with a block sander.

He begins fitting the pieces together to form the framework.

For the spine, the builder uses fast-drying superglue.

It bonds powerfully and quickly, allowing him to work fast.

After completing the spine, he starts gluing and inserting the ribs.

The finished frame resembles the skeleton of a large fish.

Once the support structure has dried, the craftsman places it on the bottom skin of the surfboard.

He positions it carefully and securely clamps it in place on a purpose-built jig.

Then he traces the lines of the frame on to the skin.

He measures and marks a set distance from the end of each rib.

He squeezes a bead of epoxy-based glue over the network of lines before lifting the frame into position on the skin.

He clamps everything down and lets it dry overnight.

The sides of the surfboard, called the rails, consist of 12 strips of wood glued and clamped together.

The rails take several days to make.

After that process is complete, the builder lays a bead of polyurethane glue on the frame and rails.

Then he lowers the surfboard's top skin into position and secures it with dozens of clamps.

He lets the fully assembled board dry overnight.

Now the board is ready for the last phase of production.

First, the craftsman shapes and smoothes the wood to give the object its final shape.

He trims the excess wood off the sides using the rails as a cutting guide.

He rounds the top edges of the board with a small, japanese-made wood plane.

The builder also uses a special tool called a saw rasp to finish the edges.

He uses a square to make sure the bottom and top are even when shaping the nose and tail.

The saw rasp allows him to quickly and efficiently bring the board to its final shape.

Next, the craftsman uses a sanding block with increasingly finer grits of sandpaper to create a smooth surface.

He signs the bottom of the board with a pencil, then burns it into the wood with a tool called a pyrography pen.

He adds a layer of fiberglass and epoxy to give the wood a tough outer shell.

Customers can choose to have a fin box with a removable fin or they can opt for a permanent wooden one.

Traditional material plus an innovative design results in wooden surfboards that are built to last.


Whips
Automated Pizza Makers
Incense Cones
Model Jet Engines

In the old days, ranchers used the sound of the whip to move cattle.

Today, collectors buy different types as functional works of art while others practice the sport of whip cracking, training to compete in competitions.

There are even entertainers who perform eye-popping tricks with whips.

In the world of whip-cracking, the best whips are made of kangaroo leather because it's 10 times stronger than cowhide of equal thickness.

Modern whips have four main parts-- the handle, the thong, which is the flexible, braided portion, the fall, a replaceable strip of leather, and the cracker, the thin string which amplifies the sound of the crack.

After carefully selecting the hide to be used for the specific whip, they begin by trimming away the ragged edges of the kangaroo hide with a razor-sharp knife.

This leaves a smooth edge with which to work.

They now begin cutting out all the whip's leather components, most of which have strands which they'll later braid.

The internal construction of the whip is made of two layers of braiding called plaited bellies.

Separating each braided layer is a solid piece of leather called a bolster.

It encircles the braided belly layer under it.

Then, covering everything is a final outer layer of braiding called the overlay.

They cut the strands for the bellies and overlay by hand using a tapering cutter that's specially designed for whip-making.

The finished overlay and bellies have a flat portion at the top called the yoke and strands tapering continuously along their entire length.

They stretch each strand as much as possible to ensure the braid will be tight and uniform.

Then, they resize each strand and bevel its edges.

This helps the strands fit into each other snugly and create a smoother, gapless braid.

Then, using a tool called a hand splitter, they shave the backside of each strand to a uniform thickness.

This prevents lumps in the taper of the finished whip.

Next, they take waxed cord and tightly bind a tapered strip of leather around a handle foundation.

The leather strip called the core will extend into the center of the thong.

They attach the first belly yoke over the handle and core, then braid the strands to begin forming the thong.

This compresses the core into a solid, round center.

Over the braided first belly, they wrap the first bolster, then attach and braid the second belly.

Over that, they wrap the second bolster, each layer compressing the ones underneath.

Then, at last, the final layer-- the overlay.

First, they lubricate the strands with homemade animal-fat-based soap.

This not only enables a tighter braid, the animal fat also conditions the leather.

This particular whip has a 12-strand overlay, but more intricate overlays can have as many as 72 strands, forming complex patterns.

While braiding, it's critical to see and align the inner layers and pull the strands tightly.

When the thong reaches the finished length, they feed the end of the braiding through a slit in the next part of the whip, the fall.

They tie the remaining strands in sequence around the fall, using what's known as a half-hitch knot.

Then they seat the fall into place and trim the loose strands.

This creates a secure connection between these two sections of the whip.

Now they roll the thong between a hard surface and a block of marble.

This compacts the braiding and rounds out the overall shape.

Then they tie the cracker onto the tip of the fall.

In the old days, they used horsehair for the cracker, also known as the popper.

Nowadays, whip makers are more likely to use nylon string.

They wrap a piece of leather to build a knot foundation at the base of the handle.

For longer and thicker whips, they form the knot foundation with a piece of lead to properly balance the whip.

They fold the yoke from the overlay over the foundation, then, with a separate strand of leather, cover the foundation with what's known as a turk's head knot.

After trimming the knot strands, they shape the knot with a soft mallet, then more rolling.

Lastly, they apply a coat of natural shellac to the entire whip.

This protects the materials and produces a nice sheen.

No whip leaves the shop without a round of hands-on testing to make absolutely sure it's all it's cracked up to be.

if you have a craving for italian and there's no restaurant in sight, you can always buy a pizza from a vending machine-- not something pre-made and packaged that you have to reheat in the microwave but a fresh pizza, made from scratch right inside the machine and served to you piping hot.

This automatic pizza-making machine produces a fresh pizza in less than three minutes.

You simply insert money, then select one of four different pizza toppings.

The machine then makes the dough, applies the toppings, and bakes the pizza right before your eyes.

When it's ready, your made-to-order 10-inch round meal is ready for pickup at the exit slot.

To build the machine, they first construct a three-section steel frame.

Technicians install a refrigerator in the middle section.

The fridge houses four dispensers, one for each of the four topping ingredients.

The machine presses and dresses the pizza dough on a nonstick plate, around which they assemble a housing.

A motorized tray moves the plate in and out of the housing to transfer the dough from one preparation stage to the next.

Technicians install this assembled unit into the left section of the frame.

Next, they install the dough mixer above it...

And just below the mixer, a plastic cup that receives the kneaded dough, then drops it onto the press plate.

Next, the flour dispenser.

It holds enough flour to make dough for 100 pizzas.

Still in the left section, behind the flour dispenser, they install and load the tomato-sauce dispenser and a bag of water.

Then, in the right section, they install the oven and, below that, the pizza exit slot.

Once everything's hooked up, a test run.

The action begins in the left section.

The flour dispenser releases a dose of flour, which is actually a mix of various flours, instant yeast, and salt.

Then, the water bag releases a dose of water.

The mixer blends and kneads all the ingredients.

Once the wad of dough is ready, it drops from the mixer into the cup.

A descending arm pushes it from the cup onto the press plate, forming a 4-inch disk.

Then a large press flattens it out to 10 inches, the finished pizza size.

Now the tomato-sauce dispenser rotates, squirting tomato sauce onto the dough in concentric circles.

Next, the pizza travels through the middle section, passing beneath the refrigerator to receive the selected toppings-- in this case, cheese.

Then, a large automated spatula, called a conveyor plate, moves the pizza to the right-side section into the machine's infrared oven.

Infrared radiation works faster than traditional heating because it cooks food from the inside out rather than from the outside in, so the pizza bakes in just one minute.

The conveyor plate returns, removes the hot pizza from the oven...

And deposits it in a cardboard tray waiting in the exit slot...

Cueing flashing lights, inviting you to come and get it.

Once a test run produces a perfect pizza, the final step is to mount the doors on this self-service pizzeria.

Buon appetito.

Burning incense is a ritual as old as time itself.

It likely began with the discovery that burning certain plants and tree barks generated pleasant aromas.

Eventually, people began compressing those sweet smells into cone incense that burned slowly, giving the user more time to relax.

Lighting an incense cone can instantly change the mood in a room.

As the cone smolders, it releases a bouquet of scents from the powdered flowers, herbs, and other plants used to make it.

The fragrances released create a soothing atmosphere.

An incense cone starts with bins of aromatic raw materials, like dried flower petals, spruce-tree needles, and blossoms that have been ground to a fine powder to release their perfumes.

Other ingredients in the bins include tree barks and tree resins.

Everything comes from nature.

The factory combines the ingredients in various formulations, depending on the incense-cone recipe.

The exact amounts in each recipe are closely guarded company secrets.

They follow each recipe to the letter, measuring all the ingredients with a traditional balance scale.

There's no room for error.

Otherwise, the product will smell off.

This particular blend is called forest honey.

The combination of ingredients includes berries and a pungent balsamic tree resin called olibanum.

The batch should emit a sweet, woodsy aroma.

They add buckets of the measured ingredients to a mixer and then turn the switch to activate the auger.

The auger spirals to evenly distribute all the aromatic ingredients.

While that's happening, a worker scoops up something that looks a lot like pastry flour but is actually a plant-based binding agent.

He mixes it with cold water to liquefy the binder.

Then, in a separate pot, he adds orange food coloring to boiling water, and an automated whisk mixes thoroughly.

He pours the thick binder liquid into the orange-colored water.

The whisk kneads it to a pudding-like consistency.

It's thick and sticky, so it's ready to add to the dried fragrance mix.

The auger works it into a cakey orange dough that's as malleable as putty.

They'll now use this two-part die to shape the dough into cones.

The worker manually presses the fragrant dough into the cavities of the die.

He compacts the dough with this handy tool.

This eliminates air pockets and ensures the dough takes the cone shape.

He levels the bottoms of the incense cones and then opens the die carefully.

The shapes are soft and delicate.

One false move, and he could destroy some of the cones.

The cautionary approach pays off, and the cones are intact.

Now it's into the drying chamber.

The temperature in here is around 100 degrees fahrenheit-- hot enough to toughen up these soft and crumbly cones.

After four days in the drying chamber, the incense cones have hardened and solidified.

The cones now bounce along a conveyor past an inspector who sorts out any defective ones.

The good ones move forward and tumble down a chute.

They land in a plastic bag, and a device moves in to heat-seal it.

An automated counter overhead portions out the cones to ensure the correct number is deposited in each package.

After a worker puts the bag in a box, an automated device folds down the lid.

From start to finish, it takes about 14 days to produce a package of incense cones.

All that hard work is about to go up in sweet-smelling smoke, which, of course, is the whole idea.

The model jet engine is a scaled-down version of the real thing.

It's essentially the same technology that lifts enormous aircraft off the ground and propels them through the sky.

These engines were first developed for model aircraft in the 1980s, and they created an immediate sensation on the runway.

For some model-aircraft enthusiasts, tiny turbines are now the only way to fly because they look and sound like a real turbo jet.

It's a touch of authenticity that can allow the imagination to really take off.

These mini jets start with the base plate.

It's the piece that all the other turbine parts will be attached to.

Automated tools transform a piece of aluminum into an aerodynamic shape.

The little blades cut into the perimeter will act as air foils, contributing to lift and thrust.

It takes just minutes to go from a metal disk the size of a hockey puck to a precision part.

Next, a worker laser-welds the seams of a steal canister, creating what looks like a large can with holes.

This is the jet engine's combustion chamber, where a mix of fuel and air will be ignited to drive the turbine.

He now inserts a hollow cylinder into the base plate and then presses a fuel-distribution ring into the plate.

With the parts correctly aligned, he places the assembly in a metal stand.

He dips screws in a thread-locking compound and drives them into threaded slots in the base plate.

This secures and cements the base-plate assembly.

He now holds the base-plate unit above the combustion chamber while he inserts the tiny fuel-delivery tubes into the chamber.

He flips the chamber around to slide the tubes further inside and complete the job.

The stator vane, pressed onto the other end of the chamber, will redirect the flow of gases to the turbine wheel.

And now the glow plug-- so named because it glows to ignite the fuel inside.

He pops it into a threaded slot on the side of the combustion chamber, which is, by now, encased in an outer shell.

Next, he installs the turbine and shaft, sliding the shaft into the center cylinder.

He supports the shaft on both ends with thrust bearings and washers, pressing the parts into place.

Next is the compressor wheel, which pressurizes air on its way into the chamber.

Once installed, the compressor wheel spins at a blurring speed, and a computer analyzes it for the slightest vibration.

Any vibration will signify an imbalance.

The technician drills away tiny bits of metal to lighten the areas of imbalance.

The exact spot was pinpointed by the computer.

He gives the compressor wheel another spin.

Again, the computer detects a small imbalance, and more material must be removed.

The process is repeated several times until the compressor wheel is perfectly balanced and the computer gives it the green light.

After that, he balances the turbine wheel on the other end of the shaft.

This mini jet engine is now ready for the starter motor.

He installs it on the shaft protruding from the compressor and anchors it with screws.

Once in place, it will spin the shaft until enough compressed air is produced to ignite the fuel.

This plastic tubing will deliver gas to the engine and oil for lubrication.

He adds a little of the oil for the initial lubrication of the bearings.

Next, he heats one end with a lighter.

This makes the plastic supple so it easily fits onto the connector.

He wires the starter to a battery and tests the motor.

It works...

So he snaps an aluminum cover onto the assembly.

This model jet engine is ready for the final test.

Locked down in a test box, they pump fuel into it and bring it up to full throttle.

using computerized equipment, the technician monitors the output and confirms the engine is producing an adequate amount of thrust.

That means it's ready to leave the factory and take flight.

In total, it takes about six hours to make a model jet engine, but after that, the sky is the limit.


Motorcycles
Clay Pipes
Drum Sticks
Whistles

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

Motorcycles...

Clay pipes...

Drumsticks...

And whistles.

The invention of the motorcycle late in the 19th century was speed driven.

People wanted to go places faster than they could on a bicycle.

So they strapped an engine on a bike-- a simple concept.

Today's motorbike is much more complex, and it leaves the earlier versions in the dust.

These motorbikes are an engineering feat.

They start by welding the frame out of lightweight aluminum, an advantage for speed and fuel efficiency.

The frames are cleaned, powder-painted, then baked to cure the paint.

They fit a crankshaft and pistons into the engine's left block.

They tighten the bearings and caps, then slide in a u-shaped tool called a fork that orients the pistons in an upright position.

Next, they compress the piston rings with another tool so that the pistons easily slide into place as they install the other half of the engine block.

They place a gasket on the top of the block...

And then install the cylinder head.

Using torque-controlled electric tools, they tighten the bolts to attach the cylinder head to the block assembly.

They install the camshaft in the cylinder head unit.

The camshaft will drive the valves that bring in air and fuel and let out the exhaust.

They rotate the crankshaft to fine-tune its action.

Now it's time to give this engine a little test run.

They fill the engine with coolant and fuel, then run through the gears.

They check for leaks and overall function.

When it passes inspection, they purge the coolant from the engine.

A motorbike engine isn't only about function.

It also has to look good, because it won't be totally hidden under a hood.

Now they lower the 225-pound engine onto a cradle that sits on a conveyor.

They mount the frame onto it.

They attach the rear wheel assembly...

And then the front wheel.

They attach the handlebar using torque-controlled tools.

And they tighten the brake assemblies.

Next, they fill the radiator with antifreeze.

Meanwhile, over in the paint department, robots are hard at work.

They attach the painted pieces to the bike-- first the saddlebag body, then the lid, and finally, the trunk body.

Then they assemble the instrumentation.

The speedometer, fuel gauges, and many other things all go onto one unit.

This part is called the front cowl, and it goes right in front of the instrumentation.

They lower the front cowl with a meter panel onto the bike.

And then they bolt everything to the frame.

Finally, they install a cover for the exhaust pipe.

They check everything to make sure it's solidly put together.

And then they pull up to a dynamometer, a machine that measures mechanical power.

They check the bike's speed, brakes, horn, navigation system, and the cruise control.

Every motorbike undergoes this scrutiny, and if it passes, it's ready for life on the road.

Clay pipes are part of a major underground network, one that's dedicated to proper drainage.

We flush without thinking, but it may surprise you to learn that clay pipes have been serving us well for thousands of years, ever since the days of ancient babylonia.

They're the sanitary sewer system's oldest secret.

These pipes can take a lot of stress.

They bear the weight of soil and structures overhead, and they won't corrode.

They start with scrap clay from manufacturing, raw clay, and shale.

After these materials have been roughly processed, a loader scoops the mix onto a conveyor that takes it to a mill for a finer grinding.

At this point, the mix has about 10% natural moisture, but it's not enough for it to stick together, so they add more water as it falls into a mixer.

The mixer evenly distributes the water in the mix, then moves it towards an extruder that pushes the clay through a pipe-shaped eye.

The clay pipe that emerges is 7.8 inches in diameter, the size that typically serves a residential side street.

It has a bell-shaped opening.

It's the female part of a joint that will fit to the male end of another pipe.

A rotating blade trims away the ragged edges.

Then an automated system loads several pipes at a time onto a rack to await the next step.

Over on another production line, they're making flue liners for chimneys.

The clay is fairly soft at this point, so lettering wheels easily engrave information, and they can cut it to size using only a thin wire.

An upender lift stacks it on a pallet to await further processing.

Elsewhere in the plant, a main trunk sewer pipe is born.

With a diameter of over 15 inches, it's big and needs a substantial trim job to get rid of the rough edges.

It weighs well over 660 pounds, nearly five times that of the residential pipe.

Once they're fabricated, every clay pipe goes into a big dryer for at least 24 hours.

A trip through a kiln will toughen them up even more.

They'll spend about 50 hours in here, exposed to very high temperatures.

This step is called vitrification.

It fuses the mineral particles together.

They tap each pipe with a hammer to test it if it's solid...

And perform a thorough visual inspection.

To join lengths of pipe together, they pour polyester resin into the female joint molds that have been placed in the bell-shape pipes.

The resin hardens, forming an o-ring, and the primer brushed on earlier helps the new resin joint adhere to the clay pipe.

Next, they make a male joint by pouring resin around its spigot end.

This will make for a joint with a tight seal.

They test the joints by pumping water into the pipe.

Then they raise it as they place a load on the joint.

How much pressure will this joint take without failing?

Over a ton, which more than meets industry requirements.

Now they do another type of test on a basic clay pipe.

A hydraulic jack applies pressure on the pipe.

The number on the gauge far exceeds the burden of being buried underground.

And so these pipes are now ready for civic duty down in the sewers.

Drumsticks are designed for a life of hard knocks.

They're usually made of hickory, which is heavier and sturdier than other woods.

Hickory can also absorb a lot of shock, which means a drumstick made from it is easier on the hands and wrists, so the drummer doesn't have to suffer for his music.

Hickory drumsticks also have good balance and feel, so it's easier to hit the right note.

To make them, automated arms serve up hickory dowels to a three-bladed cutting device that moves on a rail.

As the blades shape the spinning dowels, they form a round tip, a narrow shoulder, and a shaft that gradually widens.

They spray each stick with a protective coating.

These round blades lob off the stubs, the ends where the sticks were held during their initial machining.

It's just a rough trim, and the ends need more work.

So they feed them to spinning chucks with blades.

The chucks are inside a protective metal housing because they spin very fast and the blades are extremely sharp.

For a demonstration, the housing on one of the chucks has been removed, and they turn it by hand.

The chuck usually rotates at 10,000 rpm, but at this slow speed, you can see just how it shaves an end into the desired shape.

The stick comes out of the chuck with a nicely rounded tip.

Now they test the sticks.

Each one rolls down steel rails that have been specially aligned.

If it rolls straight, it means the stick is straight.

But if it wobbles, it isn't and would be impossible to play with.

They reject those sticks.

Next, a printer embosses the brand name and model number onto each of the drumsticks.

Now they sort each drumstick by weight.

Even if two sticks have been made exactly the same shape and size, their weight can vary because wood has different densities, and that's something that affects the stick's feel and tone.

For example, this drumstick weighs 53 grams.

But the next one comes in at 55.

Over at another work station, they're making a different kind of drumstick-- a felt-tip mount that will have a softer sound.

They press a wooden shaft into the glue-filled hole of the felt ball.

The hole is a bit smaller than the shaft, resulting in a tight bond between the stick and felt head.

They do a sound check on the other sticks.

Even though they've been sorted by weight, there are still subtle differences in tone.

A computer analyzes their sound and matches pairs.

It's a bit like a dating game.

The unmated sticks go back into the mix, and they try to match them up again.

This matching process is critical.

If one stick has a different pitch, the sound will be off-balance.

They assign a numerical value to each pair of drumsticks.

A cardboard sleeve holds each matched pair together.

From a rough wooden dowel to a sleek drumstick, a process that's designed for impact.

When you blow into a whistle, part of the air stream exits the slot in a swirling motion, generating sound.

The rest of the air stream travels through the whistle chamber, then exits the slot, reinforcing the sound.

The little ball rolling inside puts the trill in the whistle blast.

Quality whistles are made of solid brass because nothing beats its resonance.

production begins with a narrow brass sheet not quite 4/100 of an inch thick.

A punch press slices through the sheet, cutting a square connected to two circles.

The factory calls these pieces the mickey mouse ears.

One by one they go into a second press that folds the circles inward to form the sides of the whistle's barrel and bends the edges of the square inward to form the top and sides of the mouthpiece.

At the same time, it strikes the mouthpiece against a die that embosses the company logo into the metal.

Another brass sheet feeds a third press.

This machine punches out and partially shapes the part that forms the rest of the whistle.

It notches the tapered end, which will be the underside of the mouthpiece, giving your teeth something to grip.

Now a fourth press finishes shaping these pieces.

It bends the other end into a circle to form the barrel.

The two main parts of the whistle are now ready.

A worker snaps them together with pliers.

Note that on the bottom piece the barrel stops short of meeting the top of the mouthpiece.

This creates the whistle's air slot.

This press cuts and folds a brass sheet into the third and final part of the whistle, called the tip.

It's a piece on the back that holds a ring for hanging the whistle.

The tips go into a bowl feeder.

The vibration orients them in the same direction so that a robotic arm can pick them up and put them in a holder.

Tin and silver solder is applied to each tip.

This will bond it to the whistle.

To fuse all the parts together, solder is applied in six different spots.

The solder liquifies as a gas flame heats it to about 1,100 degrees fahrenheit.

It flows around all the seams, filling them in a matter of seconds.

A blast of cold air solidifies the solder.

Even then, it's still steaming as the whistle comes off the machine.

The ball that goes inside the barrel is about a half inch in diameter and made of synthetic cork, which doesn't absorb moisture, so the ball never gets soggy and stuck.

A worker holds each whistle, now plated with nickel, against the insertion machine.

The device works like these pliers, squeezing a ball through the whistle's air slot.

With one side of the barrel cut away, you can see how the ball regains its shape as soon as it clears the slot.

The last step is to hook a steel ring onto each tip.

The factory packages its whistles with a nylon cord called a lanyard.

A hook on one end attaches to the whistle's ring.

Another accessory in the package is a rubber cover for the mouthpiece.

It makes holding the whistle in your mouth for a long time more comfortable.

This factory also makes customized whistles.

You can order them with your own logo.

Or to really blow someone away, you can present them with a 24-karat gold-plated award whistle.


Winter Jackets
Animation
Mushrooms
Gold Rings

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

Winter jackets, animation, mushrooms, and gold rings.

As anyone who's shivered through a cold winter knows, you've got your run-of-the-mill winter jackets and then, those really warm winter jackets that can run up to $1,000.

The difference is what they're made of and how they're made.

A top-of-the-line winter jacket gives you the warmth without the weight.

It's waterproof and comfortable-- no bulky stuffing or constrictive styling.

The designer draws a pattern by computer.

A software program then adapts the pattern to different sizes.

A giant printer puts it to paper.

The tailor spreads out several layers of each of the fabrics that'll make up the jacket.

He lays out the pattern...

Then pins it in place.

Next, he cuts through several layers of fabric at a time with electric scissors.

These scissors maneuver much like a jigsaw around the lines and curves of the pattern pieces.

The finished jacket will actually be made up of two jackets sewn together-- an insulation jacket on the inside and a windbreaker on the outside.

The inner insulation jacket begins with a nylon lining.

Then they layer the key components-- a film to stabilize and protect the insulation, then the thick polyester insulation itself.

At this point, the insulation layer is larger than the lining.

This ensures that every inch of the jacket will have insulation.

Working with one piece at a time, they stitch the layers together.

Each line of stitching is tacked at the beginning and at the end for added strength.

They cut off the excess insulation, then sew an overlock around each piece to hold the remaining insulation solidly in place.

Once they've completed each piece of the insulation jacket, they sew it all together.

Next step-- the windbreaker.

The outer fabric is heavy nylon.

The lining is a special fabric with tiny holes, large enough to let humidity escape, but small enough to stop water droplets and wind from penetrating.

This is what will allow the jacket to breath, while at the same time, making it windproof and waterproof.

Finally, it's time to put the two jacket components together.

Using two separate strong threads, they sew seams made of knotted stitches.

No seams go through the jacket because that would break the insulation barrier and let in cold air.

They join the two jackets together only where they have to--  at the collar, the cuffs, the hem, and along the zipper.

And this isn't any ordinary zipper.

It's made of corrosion-resistant nylon with a nickel-plated slider that lasts seven times longer than a normal slider.

Until now, they've been sewing the jacket turned inside out.

Now they turn it right-side in for finishing.

These heavy-duty snaps have sturdy grips that anchor themselves between the fibers in the material so they won't tear the fabric with repeated use.

Some jackets have decorative embroidery.

Designers use a computer program to prepare the pattern.

The automatic machine embroiders five jackets at once.

This intricate owl pattern takes 1 1/4 hours to complete.

The final result is a stylish jacket whose secret weapon is that hidden layer of insulation.

It traps air inside your body, then heats it up, creating a cushion of warmth against the cold of winter.

What is biophotonics?

Well, bio is short for biology.

Photonics is the physics of light.

Biophotonics uses sophisticated imaging and other sensitive optical instruments to conduct biomedical research.

Biophotonics has a range of uses from medical diagnosis to drug screening.

In the golden years of animated film, teams of animators would draw every single illustration by hand.

Today, they do much of their work by computer, but that doesn't mean it's any less artistic.

It all starts with a screenplay-- a script containing not just dialogue, but also physical descriptions of the characters and background scenery.

The art director begins creating the characters.

He draws in pencil.

When he's finished, he traces the drawing in felt pen.

Then he erases the pencil marks.

He adds shadowing to create relief.

Once he's drawn all the characters, he starts the backgrounds...

And then the objects that appear in the backgrounds.

The storyboard artist blocks out the film on paper, drawing by drawing.

The production team will follow this storyboard the way a dressmaker follows a pattern.

They blow up the drawings, scan them into the computer, then play them back in chronological order.

This creates what's called an "animatic"-- a two-dimensional version of the film, minus the animation.

Should the director now decide to change, say, a ground-level view of the street to an aerial view, he has the artist redraw the street from that new angle.

Meanwhile, the animators work on bringing the characters to life.

Using specialized software, they build a skeleton to fit inside the character's body.

When they move the skeleton, the software makes the body move with it.

They make the characters three-dimensional using a technique called wireframe animation.

First, they build the shape of the character using a wire structure.

Then they add color and clothing.

They further refine the character by modifying facial features, by adding texture, and by shadowing.

They use specialized software to synchronize the character's mouth with the dialogue.

The technician works syllable by syllable, picking the mouth movement that matches each sound.

It's a painstaking process that takes many months.

Another animator applies the lighting effects.

Lighting is as important in an animated cartoon as it is in a movie with real people.

It creates relief, making everything look more realistic.

The animators cut and paste the characters and objects onto the backgrounds.

With the characters' movements programmed into the computer, the animators turn a two-dimensional still version of the film into a three-dimensional animation, essentially a rough cut of the film.

Meanwhile, in the studio, the soundtrack takes shape.

Actors record the characters' dialogue.

The sound technician weaves together the voices, the music, and the sound effects using specially designed software.

They sync the soundtrack to the rough cut of the film.

Then they refine the rough cut, playing with colors and textures and smoothing out the characters' movements.

After a full year's work and more than 42,000 drawings, this 24-minute computer-animated film is finally finished.

Have you ever dined on fungus?

Well, if you've eaten mushrooms, you have.

We like to think of those tasty little umbrella-shaped things as vegetables, but technically, they're fungi.

Fungus omelette, anyone?

Mushrooms grow in compost, and preparing that compost is a science in itself.

It starts with horse manure and straw.

The correct balance of moisture and air is critical, because mushrooms need both to grow, so mushroom farmers have to turn the pile frequently to air it out, and they water it daily for about a week.

This kicks up plenty of chemical and biological activity.

Ammonia forms, and microorganisms grow and reproduce, releasing heat.

Good compost requires a nitrogen content of about 2%, so farmers add a nitrogen supplement-- chicken manure.

They also add gypsum-- a mineral that improves the structure of the compost and neutralizes its acidity.

At the week to two-week mark, depending on how the compost is progressing, it goes into the composter, which waters, aerates, and blends it.

The compost comes out chocolate brown, smelling of ammonia.

Next, they pasteurize it, to kill off any insects or insect eggs.

They heat the compost at 136 degrees for eight hours, then at 113 degrees for five days.

Then, over several more days, they gradually cool it to 77 degrees as microorganisms turn the ammonia into a nitrogen protein--  a mushroom nutrient.

The compost is finally ready.

The farmer sows grains of wheat inoculated with mushroom mycelium-- fine threads of fungi that act as the mushrooms' roots.

A layer of soil and peat moss goes on top of the compost.

The mycelium draws water from the soil and nutrients from the compost.

After about two weeks, tiny mushrooms begin to develop.

They grow fast, doubling their size every 24 hours, and this in relative darkness.

Green plants need sunlight for photosynthesis but mushrooms don't.

What mushrooms do need is air, because they breathe in oxygen and breathe out carbon dioxide.

Green plants do the opposite.

Another three days, and the tiny mushrooms are fully grown and ready for harvesting.

Pickers have to be careful not to remove the roots because left intact, they'll sprout a new batch of mushrooms every three to five days for about three weeks.

They put the harvested mushrooms in a refrigerator just above freezing temperature, for about a half-hour, to stop the growing process.

On the packaging line, they weigh the mushrooms and arrange them in a container, buttons up.

A machine perforates the plastic covering to let the mushrooms breathe.

This ensures a longer shelf life.

The mushrooms stay in a fridge until they leave for the store the following day.

It's taken about 12 weeks from the start of composting to your supermarket shelf.

Gold jewelry has been a symbol of wealth and status throughout the ages.

Today, though, it isn't just for the rich.

Even ordinary people are likely to have a gold ring or necklace, just a little less diamond-studded.

As early as 2,000 b.c., egyptian kings and queens adorned themselves in golden jewelry encrusted with precious gems.

When the spanish sailed to the new world in 1492, they discovered mayan and aztec masterpieces of colored stones and pure gold.

Today, elaborate gold jewelry and precious gems are well beyond the reach of the average person, except for the diamond ring-- still the customary symbol of engagements.

The client and the jewelry designer first decide how the ring will look.

The designer then measures the client's finger to determine her ring size.

He then sketches out the design they've agreed upon-- a grooved band with three diamonds.

The model maker works with a special carving wax.

Using a compass, he measures and marks the width of the band, then carefully saws it off.

He takes his gauge and puts it on a stick with ring-size markings, called a mandrel.

He adjusts his compass to the ring size, then scores the finger hole on the block of wax.

He then takes his drill and carefully carves out the hole he scored.

Then he grinds off the wax on the outside of the band.

Using the compass again, he scores the middle of the band, where he'll make the groove.

Then, using a fine drill bit, he carves out the groove.

With a file, he then refines the groove and shapes the curves of the ring according to the design.

After putting wax prongs on the band, he attaches a wax stem to the model.

He then positions the stem into the base of the cylinder that the jeweler will use to cast the ring.

The base goes onto the platform of a vacuum machine.

The jeweler puts a cylinder on top of the base, then pours in a special plaster.

The vacuum sucks all the air out of the plaster.

This is a key part of the process, because if any air bubbles remain, the finished ring will be out of shape.

In less than a minute, the vacuuming is done, and the cylinder goes into the furnace at 1,350 degrees fahrenheit.

The wax model evaporates, leaving a void the exact shape of the ring in the hardened plaster.

Next, they melt the gold.

The gold content of jewelry is measured by karat.

The lower the karat, the less gold and the more alloy, or cheaper metals such as nickel, silver, and copper.

After five hours, the cylinder comes out of the furnace and goes into the casting machine.

The machine spins for about a minute.

The centrifugal force shoots the liquefied gold into the plaster mold that's inside the cylinder.

The jeweler then immerses the cylinder in cold water.

This cools the gold and makes the plaster disintegrate.

What's left is the cast gold ring, but its surface is rough, so on to the finishing process.

The jeweler saws off the stem and gets to work.

He files and grinds the ring until the surface is smooth.

Then he stamps on his trademark and the karat marking.

Then he hammers the ring on the mandrel to make it perfectly round.

The jeweler then hands it off to a specialist in polishing.

The polisher runs the ring against a series of buffing wheels until it's bright and shiny.

The polisher then hands it off to a specialist in setting gemstones.

The setter straightens the prongs that'll hold the diamonds.

Then, with a delicate drill bit, he carefully carves out the inside of the prongs.

The edges of the diamonds will fit directly into these slots.

He readjusts the prongs, then sets the diamonds, making sure the prongs hold them down securely.

That's a 1-carat diamond in the middle, a 1/2-carat diamond on each side.

The jeweler then immerses the finished ring into the ultrasonic machine.

The vibrations in the water penetrate every nook and cranny, washing the ring.

Finally, he puts the ring under a jet of hot steam to blast away any remaining residue.

And voilà.

With a ring like that, who wouldn't say "i do"?