Seatbelts
Windows
Wax Figurines
Hot Air Balloons

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

Windows...

Wax figurines...

And hot air balloons.

It's an indisputable fact that seatbelts save lives.

When a car comes to a sudden stop, the seatbelt prevents you from hurling forward.

It spreads the stopping force across the sturdier parts of your body, namely your rib cage and pelvis.

This spreading action dilutes the strength of the stopping force, minimizing injury.

Before production can begin, the factory has to adjust the seatbelt design to fit the specific car model, to make sure the belt path is clear, that there's enough room for rotating parts to move, and so on.

On the factory floor, robots assemble most of the mechanical components.

This plastic disk, containing a spring and a weight, is part of the locking mechanism.

It's what stops the seatbelt straps, called the webbing, from lengthening when you jerk forward due to a sudden stop or hard deceleration.

The locking mechanism goes into the seatbelt's retractor mechanism, the component that lets the webbing extend and retract.

The webbing will wind onto this aluminum spool in the retractor, a rewind spring keeping it taut.

Sudden deceleration will cause this silver ball to trigger the locking mechanism.

This will stop the spool from rotating and lock the webbing.

This next robot assembles what's called the pretensioner mechanism.

While the locking mechanism stops the webbing from lengthening, the pretensioner sharply pulls the webbing back, tightening any slack.

The pretensioner kicks in only in the event of a crash.

The sudden deceleration on impact triggers sensors which signal the air-bag control module to send an electrical charge to the pretensioner.

This charge sets off a tiny explosion that deslacks the belt.

This worker installs the explosive device, called the micro gas generator, or mgg.

After lubricating the inside of its aluminum cylinder with grease, she inserts a piston and the mgg.

The mgg contains a chemical called nitrocellulose.

The electrical charge coming from the air-bag control module ignites this chemical, causing a tiny gas explosion.

That generates pressure within the cylinder, driving the piston upward at high speed.

This triggers a gear that winds the retractor spool backward, taking up any slack in the webbing.

After capping off the micro gas generator's housing, a robot transfers the completed pretensioner mechanism to the retractor's frame.

Then it screws on a steel cover plate to hold the pretensioner in place.

They install the rewind spring onto the spool of the retractor mechanism.

This spring is what provides resistance when you pull out the webbing to buckle up.

Then, when you unbuckle, it rotates the spool to rewind the webbing.

The car company decides what type of spring to use.

The thicker the spring and the more coils, the greater the tension, and therefore the faster and smoother the belt retracts.

But the greater the tension, the less comfortable the seatbelt is on the body.

The webbing is made of woven polyester fiber.

This machine sews one end over into a loop for the pin that'll anchor the webbing to the spool.

The pin is made of either plastic or steel, depending on the type of retractor they're using.

A worker now threads the end through a machine that automatically winds the webbing onto the retractor spool, making sure the pin is properly attached.

At the same time, the machine checks the overall belt length to make sure it conforms to the client's specifications.

At this factory, every single seatbelt component has to pass a thorough quality-control check.

Here a machine checks a key safety feature, a lever-and-ratchet mechanism that prevents the webbing from extending after you've belted in a child car seat.

Now for the final assembly.

Workers load all the seatbelt parts in a jig, a holding device that arranges them in the proper configuration.

A worker feeds the webbing through the shoulder loop, from which the belt hangs, and through the tongue plate, the part that clicks into the buckle.

Both these components are made of steel for strength, with plastic coverings matching the car interior.

The last step is to sew the anchor to finish off the other end of the webbing.

Every seatbelt design goes through extensive testing before going into production.

This machine assesses how much pull the webbing and retractor can withstand before breaking.

This machine tests the webbing's durability, running it through 50,000 abrasion cycles to ensure the material doesn't wear out.

The earliest windows were merely holes cut into the walls.

People living in warm climates left them uncovered, while people in harsher climates used animals skins to keep the cold out.

In the far east, people covered the opening with paper.

Then came glass panes in sashes that swung in or out or hung one above the other.

This type of window is called a casement window.

A crank mechanism opens it at an angle.

To build the window frame, the factory begins with 16 1/2-foot lengths of extruded pvc, a type of plastic.

As clamps hold the pvc steady, a computer-guided circular saw cuts the sizes required for the frame.

The same machine also cuts the pieces for the sash, the inner frame around the glass.

Each frame is made from four pieces, whose ends are mitered at a 45-degree angle.

Now workers load eight pieces onto a computer-guided welding machine-- eight, because it welds two frames at a time.

First a heating block, whose temperature is 446 degrees fahrenheit, melts the ends.

Then the machine pushes them together.

They fuse, forming the frame's four corners.

Here's the same process, viewed from above.

As the melted ends bond under pressure, excess pvc oozes out at the joints, then hardens.

The next machine will clean that up.

A robot reads the profile of the specific frame style.

Then it uses one of several cutting heads to shave the excess off the corners.

From here, the sash and frame go to another area to receive hinges.

Meanwhile, workers cut the glass to size.

They start with a huge sheet, measuring about 6 1/2 feet by 10 feet..

It's very heavy, about 200 pounds.

So, they lay it on a specially designed table.

A blower sends up air through tiny holes.

This floats the glass just above the surface, making it easy to move around.

They score the glass using a sharp carbide cutting wheel.

This window will have what's called a thermopane, two panes of glass with argon gas in between for insulation.

One of the panes has a transparent metallic coating to reflect the heat back into the house.

They adhere a strip of silicone foam around the perimeter of the first pane, notching it for a good fit around the corners.

The foam is covered in a thin, strong polyester film to prevent the gas from leaking through.

The strip is a spacer, creating a gap between the two panes that's just over 1/2 inch wide.

That's where the gas will go.

They cut a hole at the top of the spacer and another at the bottom.

You'll see why shortly.

This window features decorative grid work called muntin bars.

They're made of aluminum and go between the two panes.

A worker lays the bars onto the first pane, then uses this guide to line them up perfectly straight.

Then she puts the second pane on top.

It sticks to the exposed adhesive edge of the spacer.

Now the double-paned glass goes through a press, whose rollers apply pressure to ensure a strong and thorough bond to the spacer.

After the glass exits the press, workers pump in argon gas through that hole at the bottom of the spacer.

The speed of the gas flow is critical.

If they pump it in too fast, it'll mix with the air in between the panes, rather than push it through the hole at the top of the spacer.

After plugging the holes, they coat the spacer in a polyurethane sealant.

This makes the thermopane completely airtight.

Now it's ready to go in the sash.

A piece of pvc called the glazing stop holds it there.

They snap it in place using a roller.

A little pvc cement to seal off any miniscule gaps in the corners, then the sash goes into the window frame.

Their respective hinge parts simply snap together.

The last step is to snap the frame's crank arm onto the sash.

Making religious figurines out of wax is a tradition the french brought to the new world.

For hundreds of years, this delicate craft wasn't open to just anyone.

The technique remained a closely guarded secret, practiced only by monks and nuns within the confines of their monasteries and convents.

This artisan uses a centuries-old technique to restore antique figurines and to make new ones.

She begins with pure beeswax, paraffin wax, some powdered chalk to make the waxes less transparent, and a bit of solid animal fat to make the wax less fragile once it hardens.

She heats the can of ingredients in a pot of water for about two hours, until everything's melted and homogenous.

Then she tints the mixture using oil-paint pigments.

There's no exact recipe.

She goes by gut feeling, fiddling with various colors until she creates the exact skin tone she's looking for.

Once she's certain the color is uniform throughout, she pours the mixture through a stocking.

This filters out any contaminants or undissolved particles.

Now she pours the mixture into a plaster mold.

There's a different mold for each figurine model.

This one's a baby jesus.

The wax takes about 10 minutes to solidify.

The figurine comes out easily, because she had greased the mold cavity beforehand with filtered sheep fat.

The figurine at this point is firm enough to extract from the mold but still soft enough to sculpt.

With a very fine blade that she heats over a flame, the artisan now scrapes away the seam left by excess wax that oozed out of the gap between the mold's two halves.

Then she runs the figurine through the flame just long enough to melt off any wax particles left behind by the scraping.

After smoothing the surface with a solvent, she signs the back of the figurine with her initials, then uses the flame once again to melt off the scraped-out wax.

Now that the figurine's body is finished, she can begin the detail work.

She melts pine resin with beeswax to make glue, then brushes it on the figurine's head.

Then she takes strands of human hair-- clients often supply their children's hair-- and soaks them in water.

She wets strips of fabric, as well.

Then she rolls the hair around a knitting needle to make curly locks.

She winds the fabric over the curls to hold them in place until they air-dry.

If she's pressed for time, she'll dry them in the oven on low heat.

To make bigger curls for a larger figurine, she simply uses a thicker knitting needle.

Now, using a hot blade to reheat and activate the glue, she applies each length of curls individually.

Once she's finished covering the head, she attaches a little halo made of brass wire, heating the end so that the wax melts on contact and holds it in position.

Now, using a small, pointed tool that she repeatedly heats on the flame, she sculpts the fine facial details-- the figurine's eyes, eyelids, nostrils, and lips.

Again, a little solvent cleans off the wax particles.

Now she brushes the figurine head to toe with powder made of pumice and pigment.

This will help the watercolor paints adhere to the wax.

She paints the eyes, lashes, brows, and lips.

Once the paint dries, she applies a touch of varnish to the eyes to make them shiny and bright.

Once the varnish dries, she dresses the figurine and positions it in its setting.

The first passengers ever to ride in a hot air balloon were a sheep, a duck, and a chicken.

That eight-minute flight took place in france in 1783.

Today's hot air balloons work on the same principle-- the burner heats the air, the balloon envelope holds the air, and the basket carries the passengers.

Hot air balloons fall under government aircraft regulations, so their engineering has to meet very specific performance and safety standards.

Once the technical design gets approval, the factory works on the graphic design.

The computer renders the graphics into plans that resemble a giant jigsaw puzzle.

Each piece has a code number.

The computer generates a paper template for each one.

Balloons usually fly in the early morning, when there's still dew on the ground.

So, the nylon fabric with which they make the balloon envelope has a silicone coating to repel moisture that would generate mold and mildew.

After tracing each template with grease pencils, they cut the fabric by hand and mark the corresponding code number on the back of each piece.

Then, following the plan, seamstresses sew the pieces together like a giant quilt, using heavy-duty thread.

The type of seam they stitch is the strongest possible-- what you typically see on jeans.

They sew the seams to nylon straps, called webbing.

These run both horizontally and vertically, forming a giant grid.

Should the fabric rip, the seam and webbing combined prevent the tear from spreading.

Hot air balloons often carry a corporate logo.

Workers divide the design into components, project each one onto a piece of fabric, trace it, and cut it out.

They first glue, then sew the components to the balloon in one of two ways either into the fabric, or on top of it, as we see here.

Stainless-steel aircraft cable connects the balloon envelope to the basket below.

Workers slip a plastic sleeve, then a copper sleeve over one end, then loop the cable.

They line the loop with a stainless-steel thimble.

This thimble will protect the aircraft cable from damage due to wear and tear.

They crimp the copper sleeve to lock the loop.

After taking various measurements to ensure everything conforms to strict specifications, they wrap tape around the sharp end of the crimp, then, using an industrial heat gun, shrink-wrap the plastic sleeve over it to seal the connection.

The basket is made of wicker or a similar natural material woven over a stainless-steel frame.

Wicker is flexible enough to absorb the shock of a bumpy landing.

They cover the bottom edge with rawhide to protect the wicker when it scrapes against the ground.

They pad, then cover the top edge in suede or leather for comfort when you're leaning on it to admire the view.

These nylon poles, called uprights, fit into the frame.

They support the burners above the basket.

Hot air balloons run on propane, the same stuff gas barbecues use.

Only a barbecue produces about 70,000 btus of heat, while a hot air balloon's two burners together generate 30 million btus, enough to warm a large building.

After connecting the basket to the burner frame with cables, they cover the cables and uprights in protective padding.

Then they hook up the hoses running from the burners to the propane tanks housed in the basket.

Now for the final assembly.

First, they tip the basket onto its side.

Then they take those looped cables they made earlier and hook one end to the frame of the burner system.

The other end is already hooked up to the balloon envelope-- one cable to every vertical strip of webbing.

Depending on its size, a balloon has between 12 and 28 of them.

They form the skeleton of the balloon, carrying the weight of the craft and its passengers.

After laying out the balloon envelope, they use a fan to inflate it partway with cold air.

This takes 5 to 20 minutes, depending on the size of the balloon.

Then they fire up the burners to heat the cold air.

It expands to fill the envelope.

The fabric near the burners is fire-resistant.

Because hot air weighs less than cold air, it rises, pulling the balloon upright and off the ground.

You control vertical movement by manipulating the envelope air temperature.

To ascend, you turn the burner flames higher.

To descend, you pull a cord to vent hot air out the top.

You can't really steer horizontally.

The trick is to ride different wind currents.


A composite propane cylinder is an alternative you'll appreciate if you've ever lugged a steel propane cylinder for your gas barbecue or if you've ever run out of gas in mid-grill because you couldn't tell how much propane was left in the tank.

Composite material is 30% lighter than steel and see-through.

Composite propane cylinders are made of transparent fiberglass encased within a plastic housing.

Propane, a liquid under pressure, expands as temperature increases.

So as a safety feature, the cylinder valve is equipped with an overfill-prevention device, a valve shut-off that kicks in when you've filled 80% of the cylinder.

This ensures ample room for the propane to expand.

Fiberglass is actual glass that's been drawn into thin fibers, then woven into fabric or, in this case, yarn.

It's the ideal material for a gas cylinder because it's strong, lightweight, rust-proof, and nonflammable.

A robot simultaneously winds 12 strands of fiberglass yarn over a steel form shaped like a half cylinder.

The winding pattern is very specific, strategically designed to make the cylinder walls as strong as possible.

While winding, the robot applies a powder binding solution.

This immobilizes the strands so that the shape won't collapse when the robot later lifts it off the form.

The winding process takes about 45 seconds and produces what's called a preform.

The robot transfers the preform over to the next machine, a molding press.

It injects liquid plastic at high pressure, impregnating the fiberglass.

Then it heats the preform for 10 minutes to cure the plastic.

What comes out of the molding press is a fully formed fiberglass half cylinder.

The top-half cylinder needs to be prepped for the valve.

First, an automated drill bores a hole.

Then workers apply caulking around a valve fitting...

Set the fitting on an assembly fixture...

Position the hole over it...

Then press the fitting into the fiberglass.

Now they mount the top- and bottom-half cylinders on opposing lathes.

A computer-guided grinding wheel with a fine diamond-grid surface trims the edge of each half cylinder to an exact specification.

Then it machines a precise 3-degree taper on each edge at opposing angles.

Next, an automated nozzle applies adhesive onto the tapered edges.

Then the lathes move toward each other, mating the halves.

The tapered edges slot together in a tight fit.

After the adhesive cures nearly two hours later, this is a solid, inseparable cylinder, which, as per the certification label, conforms to the standards required by government regulators.

Every single cylinder this factory produces undergoes safety tests.

This one, in a pressurized chamber, ensures the cylinder can hold the required amount of pressure.

This submersion test ensures the cylinder is gas-tight.

If bubbles appear in the water, it means there's a leak.

After a cylinder passes testing, workers install the valve, which is already connected to the overfill-prevention device.

The valving machine holds the cylinder steady, while it turns the valve to the precise tightness the engineering specifications require.

Now it's just a matter of snapping together the cylinder's two-part plastic housing.

The housing has handles for carrying the cylinder.

It also has a flat base to allow the cylinder to stand upright.

Composite propane cylinders come in various sizes to fuel everything from barbecues to patio heaters, even ride-on lawn mowers and factory forklifts.

Salsa is a staple of mexican and southwestern cuisine-- a spicy tomato-based condiment people typically enjoy as a topping on tacos or dip for tortilla chips.

Recipes vary, as does the kick factor-- from mild to extra-hot.

"salsa" is the spanish word for "sauce".

This american company produces nine different flavors, from regular to roasted garlic to pineapple-mango.

All flavors begin with fresh tomatoes delivered daily to the factory.

Workers inspect them carefully and remove any stems, leaves, and unripe or imperfect tomatoes.

Other workers, meanwhile, cut the stems off cilantro, a leafy herb that acts as a major flavor-enhancer.

They wash the cilantro in a tank of ice-cold water, then transfer it to another cold-water tank for a second wash, and then to another tank for a third wash, then a fourth and final wash, this one in a machine with food-safe vegetable sanitizer, containing bacteria-killing hydrogen peroxide.

Then they dry the wet cilantro in a giant salad spinner.

In another area, they prep the onions, peeling the skin and slicing off the ends.

They rinse the onions with water and the same sanitizer they used on the cilantro.

Ditto with the tomatoes.

This industrial-strength dicing machine chops up all the produce ingredients.

It has interchangeable blades to adjust for different-sized cuts.

First through the dicer--  the tomatoes.

They enter whole and exit in pieces about 4/10 of an inch big.

Next, the onions.

The dicer chops them into pieces roughly 2/10 of an inch in size.

Meanwhile, the cilantro goes into a cutter which chops it into fine pieces.

The recipe proportions are roughly 80% tomatoes, 5% onions, 2% cilantro, 5% green peppers, then additional flavor-specific ingredients, plus salt, pepper, and vinegar.

With the prep work done, it's now time to blend all the ingredients in a giant mixer.

Each batch begins with 55 gallons of tomatoes.

Next comes the cilantro.

This and all the ingredients are pre-weighed, so as to be in the correct proportion to the quantity of tomatoes.

The onions are next.

This particular batch of salsa is garlic-artichoke flavor; hence the next ingredient--  diced artichokes.

Now the combined liquid ingredients-- lemon juice, lime juice, and white vinegar...

Followed by the combined dry ingredients-- salt, pepper, dried celery, and garlic powder.

A final high-speed five-minute mix ensures everything is thoroughly blended and ready for packaging.

The finished salsa goes into vats.

From there, at packaging time, a pumping system moves it to the automated filling machine, whose nozzles squirt the required quantity of salsa into plastic containers.

The machine then seals each container with a plastic safety film and presses on a cover.

This is what the packaging process looks like in slow motion.

It actually moves at about twice this speed.

The filled containers now pass through a combination x-ray/metal detector.

On the off chance a foreign object fell into the salsa during production, the machine flags the affected container and triggers an automated arm to eject it from the production line.

This standard food-safety precaution ensures that every single container proceeding to labeling and then onto store shelves is "a-olé".

To pump water from the ground, the windmill reaches to the sky.

The blades catch the breeze and spin, while gears convert the spinning action into pumping action.

This technology has been around for over 2,000 years.

The first known water-pumping windmills originated in persia around 7 a.d. in 19th-century america, this was the wheel of progress-- a metal-bladed windmill that turned with greater force than traditional wooden ones, even in low wind conditions.

Its superior pumping capacity made it indispensable to pioneers settling inland, away from rivers and streams.

And today this same design continues to be a part of the rural landscape, especially when there's no electricity to run water pumps.

Production begins with a 100-ton punch press.

Once activated, it cuts triangular shapes from galvanized steel sheets, each with a slot in the center.

Each cutout will be a windmill sail.

They'll need 18 for each wind wheel.

Once stacked, they transfer the sail shapes to a rolling station.

The roller curls the steel to an exact curvature, producing a slightly bowed shape, which will efficiently capture the wind.

Next, a worker wraps a metal rib around each sail.

He taps the sides until it fits snugly to the sail.

The rib has a tab that slots into the hole in the sail's center, allowing the two parts to interlock.

Bands fit through the ribs to assemble the sails in groups of three.

Next, a worker slides a metal loop over the guide wheel and drives the ends into holes in the gearbox, using a sledgehammer.

He rivets the ends to the gearbox so that they're solidly ensconced.

Next, he inserts the wind-wheel hub and shaft into the mainframe of the gearbox.

He taps it to nudge it tightly into place.

He then grinds the brake lever to shape it to the brake mechanism on the hub.

This braking system is critical.

It will stop the wind wheel from spinning out of control in high winds.

He spins the hub and activates the brake several times to confirm that his machining is dead-on and that the brake system works perfectly.

If it doesn't, he makes adjustments.

Next, using a very toothy circular cutter, he carves grooves into steel blanks to shape the gears.

The difference is quite obvious.

He installs a set of these gears at the base of the metal loop and secures them with a metal pin.

He checks their turning radius and then mates a larger set of gears to the smaller ones, ensuring that the teeth intermesh.

This very substantial gear system will drive the guide wheel, creating the pumping action.

Two metal parts, called pitman arms, link the gears to the guide wheel.

A steel pin holds everything together.

As the gears turn, the guide wheel rolls up and down the loop to complete a pumping cycle.

Next, he screws a series of thin metal rods to the hub.

They're called wheel arms, and they hold the windmill sails.

The wheel arms fit into precut holes in the structure of the sail sections.

He secures the assembly with nuts.

Once all the sail sections have been mounted to the wheel arms, the windmill is ready for a spin.

It's a test run to confirm the wind wheel and gears function flawlessly.

It takes a crane to lift the 640-pound windmill to the top of its tower.

Once it's in position, a worker guides the gearbox onto the mast pipe.

Once it's secure, they hoist the helmet.

It's a cone-shaped metal cap that will protect the gears from the elements.

He bolts it to the top of the gearbox.

With that job done, this windmill is ready to pump.

It should last decades, providing water that is as free as the wind.

Dragsters roar out of the starting line in a cloud of smoke, and then it's a blur.

Traveling at speeds of up to 320 miles an hour, these hot rods rip through a quarter-mile racetrack in less than 4 seconds.

It's why they need parachutes to slow down and come in for a safe landing.

Blink a couple of times, and the race is over.

Packing an incredible 8,000 horsepower, a dragster is at least 50 times more powerful than a subcompact car.

With fat rear tires for traction and a tapered aerodynamic body, the dragster is engineered for one thing only-- speed.

Production begins with the heart of the vehicle-- the powerful 8-cylinder engine.

To reduce drag, the engine block is made of lightweight aluminum.

A technician carefully installs the camshaft...

And then fastens the timing cover to the front of the engine.

The timing cover prevents oil leaks.

He installs the crankshaft and hub.

And once the eight rods and pistons have been loaded and connected, he tests their movement and function.

Satisfied with their performance, he encases them in an oil pan.

With the installation of the drive gears and other components, the engine block is now complete.

They move on to the supercharger, a forceful blower that boosts engine power tremendously.

This worker seals the seams with urethane and caps the ends.

He slides strips of teflon between the rotors for extra sealing.

All this sealing will ensure that the compressed air generated is directed down through the bottom of the supercharger and into the engine.

With the supercharger now installed in its magnesium casing, he connects a cage-like starter to its drive pulley.

It's now time for a test run.

Blue streamers have been attached to the bottom of the supercharger.

Their fluttering is a visual indication of the force of the air generated.

The next employee attaches fuel pipes to the dragster's metal skeleton.

They install the engine and the high-tech clutch.

This racing clutch is equipped with five discs to transfer power from the engine directly to the wheels.

Between every run, the dragster engine will be completely rebuilt.

The rebuild should take just 22 minutes.

So the team at the factory is on the clock to prove it can be done.

The technician torques the cylinders to the engine block.

He installs the fuel-distribution system and connects the hoses to the cylinder heads.

Dragsters run on nitromethane, known as top fuel in the sport.

It delivers more power per stroke.

Still on the clock, the crew transfers the supercharger to the engine and connects it to the intake manifold.

They use super-strength kevlar strapping to restrain the supercharger in the event of an explosion.

They loop a belt over the gears that drive the supercharger.

They adjust the engine valves...

And then check to confirm the valves move freely.

They cover the valves with this titanium lid to prevent oil leaks and keep all the parts in place.

A technician connects spark plugs to the engine through slots in the cover, two per cylinder.

With each step carefully timed and executed, it has taken 22 minutes for the crew to get this dragster engine in rip-roaring shape.

In that 22-minute window, they also bolt the back wheels to the axle.

They then slide the steering wheel into place in the cockpit and give it a try to confirm that it steers the tires at the front of the dragster.

Also part of the 22-minute routine, a check of the fuel lever and the loading of the parachutes.

They'll be tested at every pit stop before repacking.

Finally, they fill up the tank with nitromethane fuel.

This high-performing fuel is both volatile and corrosive, so there's a protective cover.

This dragster is almost ready for the starting gate.

All it needs is a sponsor to pay all the bills.

One last test of the clutch, and this dragster is ready for the track.

and it's off in a cloud of tire smoke.


Aluminum Canoes
Wooden Stave Bowls
Wheelchair Accessible Vans
Marimbas

When world war ii ended, an american manufacturer of fighter jets needed to land new business.

The factory employed the same stretched-aluminum process used for shaping aircraft wings and came up with an aluminum canoe.

No fighting machine, the aluminum canoe is designed for a peaceful day at the lake.

Among watercraft, the aluminum canoe is the strong, silent type.

It resists breaking and cracking when it comes up against a rock or any other underwater object.

So this is one invention that is unlikely to sink into oblivion.

Aluminum itself is too soft for canoe construction.

So metals like magnesium, nickel, and silicone have been added to give it the needed strength.

Factory employees unwind the aluminum alloy onto a work table.

Using electric shears, they cut it to length.

They lift the metal sheet onto a mold of of part of the canoe hull.

They clamp the metal to a hydraulic system and activate it.

It pulls and stretches the aluminum-alloy sheet to the mold, and it conforms to its shape.

The molded sheet needs trimming, so they transfer it to a work table, and place a template over the contoured section.

They clamp it into place.

With a scribe, one of the workers etches the pattern onto the molded aluminum.

The team then transfers the aluminum sheet to a jig and cuts out the pattern following the etched outline.

They shape and cut a second part exactly like the first.

The two symmetrical halves will form the hull of the aluminum canoe.

They bake the hull halves at 390 degrees fahrenheit for eight hours.

The heat strengthens the aluminum and adds rigidity to it.

Out of the oven, a member of the team now aligns two halves.

It's a perfect match, so he now lowers a large clamp.

Once in place, he turns a crank to pull the two parts of the aluminum canoe together.

Now tightly, clamped, he welds the two parts along the bottom.

This joins them with a water-tight seam.

With hand clamps, he tacks the two rounded ends together and welds here.

He links the end welds to the one on the bottom, and the result is one continuous leak-proof weld from bow to stern.

Next, the team positions an aluminum keel along the bottom seam.

They reinforce it from the inside with the t-bar.

They drive rivets through the t-bar, hull, and keel to secure the assembly.

They install substantial aluminum guards on the bow and stern using rivets to secure them.

These guards will protect the end welds.

They brace the base of the canoe from the inside with six aluminum ribs.

Welded, riveted, and with a good support structure, this aluminum canoe has really taken shape.

They equip the rim of the canoe with aluminum gunnels, pounding them with a rubber mallet to improve the fit.

Then a worker rolls non-skid paint on the inside so it won't become slick when wet.

They bring incandescent heat lamps in, and the paint dries quickly in the warm glow.

After just 30 minutes, the paint is dry.

Then it's time to see if it will float.

They transfer the aluminum canoe to a tank of water.

They clamp a bar across the canoe to apply nearly 1,000 pounds of pressure-- more than the weight of two people.

They check for leaks, especially around the rivets.

There are none.

Crossbars and bench seating complete the fabrication.

There's one last bit of business, and that's the company insignia.

This aluminum canoe is now ready for recreation.

10 hours in the making, the fun has only just begun.

Bowls have existed for thousands of years.

Very early bowls, used to serve food or drink, have been found in china, ancient greece, and in certain north-american cultures.

Modern bowls can be made from a variety of materials, such as ceramic, plastic, metal, and wood.

Wood bowls come in many shapes and sizes.

Many different kinds of wood are used to make bowls, such as rubberwood and teak.

Acacia is also a type of wood used to make bowls.

Workers cut flat planks of acacia using a large circular saw.

The acacia was cut a few days ago in nearby plantations.

Planks are cut to thicknesses required for bowl production and pre-dried on pallets, spaced apart for better air circulation.

Using a table saw, a worker cuts the wood planks, now kiln-dried, into pieces long enough to make the bowl wall.

Another worker uses a tilted table saw to cut the wood into shapes resembling a cone.

Drying the wood eliminates water that might cause cracking later on.

A worker trims the pieces, giving them the angle they need, so the staves can be rounded later on.

Another worker smoothes the rough side of the staves with a spinning cutter.

This also helps shape the wood pieces.

Another employee lines up the staves on a table before applying glue.

She spreads a wood-binding glue onto the sides of the staves.

Once they're thoroughly covered with glue, she begins assembling the bowl by sticking the sides together.

She assembles a few pieces at a time, handing them to another worker, who arranges the bowl's shape by leaning the staves against a center piece.

They continue the process until all the staves are in place.

Then they'll squeeze the staves tightly together.

They stretch elastic bands around the outside of the eventual bowl.

The elastics, held in place by a steel ring, squeeze the staves firmly against each other.

With a hammer, she lightly taps the staves into place, making sure they are flush against each other.

She turns the bowl over to make sure none of the staves around the top rim are sticking out too far.

She then leaves the bowl to dry.

About five hours later, they remove the elastics and, again, leave the bowl to harden for a full day.

A template is attached to the eventual bowl, in order to cut a circular opening for the bottom piece.

The template serves as a guide during the cutting process.

A worker moves the bowl around, allowing the cutter to create a perfectly sized hole for the bottom section of the bowl.

It's made of the same kind of wood-- in this case, acacia.

A worker applies glue to the edges of the bottom hole...

And to the outer edge of the round piece that goes in the bottom of the bowl.

He inserts the bottom plate and uses a hammer to force it firmly into place.

After another day of hardening, a worker places the bowl in a lave.

With a variety of knives, he begins shaving off the wood.

He starts on the inside wall of the bowl.

Then he shaves the outside of the bowl, gradually giving it shape.

He then uses sandpaper to smooth the surface of the bowl.

Another worker then uses a lave to sand the surface of the bowl.

He makes the surface as fine as possible.

He must have a keen eye for detail in order to make the bowl surface perfect.

A worker sprays a foodstuff varnish onto the surface of the bowl.

Several layers are applied with drying and polishing after each one.

If required, a stain is also applied.

They place a sticker identifying the manufacturer on the bottom of the bowl.

A worker then packages the wood bowl.

With the bowl secure, the only thing tossed around will be the ingredients you put in it.

The minivan was designed with families in mind, but it also revolutionized travel for people in wheelchairs.

Retrofitted for wheelchair accessibility, the minivan offers unprecedented mobility.

No need to wait for special wheelchair transportation when there's a minivan in the driveway.

Convert a minivan and change a life.

A wheelchair-accessibility conversion offers the convenience of a ride anytime.

From the outside, the van will look no different.

But inside, the modifications will be major.

The total revamp starts with the removal of the van's middle and third-row seats.

They pull out the carpet and completely strip the vehicle from the front seats to the back.

Underneath, a technician saws off the exhaust system, and disassembles the rear suspension.

The entire undercarriage behind the engine is about to be reconfigured to make way for a new lowered floor.

The team also removes the 20-gallon fuel tank.

They'll replace it with one of the same capacity to fit the new configuration.

They cut out a large section of floor and relocate displaced wiring.

They're now ready to roll the new floor framework into position below the vehicle.

This steel structure replaces the original one and is strong enough to support the additional weight of a wheelchair.

A motorized one can weigh as much as four adults.

They slide the new steel floor into the vehicle and lower it into the framework.

The new floor is significantly lower than the one the van came with, and it increases the wheelchair passenger's headroom by about 10 to 15 inches.

After installing the new fuel tank, suspension, and exhaust systems, they return to the interior.

A technician fits and binds carpet underpadding to the van.

He installs the carpet and clamps it while the adhesive cures.

With the back of the van rebuilt and carpeted, they now ready the wheelchair ramp.

A technician applies a gritty material with an adhesive backing.

He simply presses it to the ramp and smoothes out any air bubbles.

This gritty material will provide a slip-resistant surface for the wheelchair to move across.

He attaches a handle...

And installs two cable assemblies to connect the handle to the ramp latches.

He attaches a return spring to the handle assembly.

He turns the handle and tests the latches to confirm that the mechanisms function properly.

The team then links the wheelchair ramp to the new floor with a long hinge.

They install stainless-steel trim over the hinge to protect it and also connect the counterbalance cables to the ramp.

Hidden springs at the end of the cables provide tension to significantly lighten the load for the operator.

The ramp weighs about 130 pounds, but the operator ends up lifting just 15 of that, due to the spring-loaded tension.

They reinstall the interior plastic panels and repurpose the original second-row seatbelts.

As they finish up inside, an employee puts the company name on the door of the vehicle.

The wheelchair-converted van is now ready for a test drive.

The operator unfolds the ramp.

He folds away the new seats to make way for the wheelchair.

He extends the tie-down belts and attaches them to the wheelchair.

He wheels the passenger into the van...

Locks the wheelchair breaks...

And ties the chair to the floor.

There are standard seatbelts to fasten, and then it's time to sit back and enjoy the ride.

Seated in the converted minivan, the individual can now experience the freedom of the road.

The marimba is a musical instrument similar to the xylophone, except with a wider and lower range of notes and metal resonators underneath the keys to amplify the sound.

While the xylophonist uses hard rubber mallets, the marimbist usually strikes the wooden keys with a variety of mallets covered with wound yarn.

the marimba keyboard is chromatic, meaning it includes all the semitones of a musical scale-- the equivalent of the 12 white and black keys on a piano.

Each wooden key has a resonator, an amplification tube underneath, tuned to the same note.

When the mallet strikes, the resulting vibration causes the resonator to hum that note, transforming the otherwise thin, muted sound into a louder, richer tone.

They keys are fashioned from honduran rosewood, which is hard and dense, yet elastic.

After cutting the thickness and width, they set the dial of this custom-made saw to the note they're making, which positions the wood to be cut to the correct length-- no measuring required.

Next, using a router, they round off all the edges.

When a key has sharp edges, it's more likely to chip or splinter when struck, even though marimba mallets are soft and frequently covered with wound yarn.

The next step is to drill holes at the nodes, which are specific non-vibrating points on the key.

The nodal holes are for the cord that will suspend the key over it's resonator.

Now a computer-guided milling machine sculpts a very precise arch in the underside.

This roughly tunes the key.

To fine-tune the key, they must tune the fundamental note plus the first and second overtones-- the subtler notes that sound simultaneously with it.

When the tuner strikes the key, an electronic machine reads the exact frequency of the vibrations.

He repeatedly taps, takes readings, and sands the arch...

Until the fundamental and overtones are pitch-perfect.

They seal the wood with lacquer.

This protects the key from moisture penetration, which would alter the key's tuning.

For each key, they make a resonator out of brass tubing.

The lower the note, the wider and longer the resonator.

Some are so long, they must be j-shaped or u-shaped to fit under the keyboard.

To make those curves, workers use short, angled pieces of tubing to join longer, straight pieces.

They divide the resonators in groups then bolt each onto a painted steel rail.

There are six groups of resonators on this full-range marimba.

The instrument is nearly 10 feet long.

The ends of the frame are height-adjustable.

Between the frame ends, a center pole receives the six resonator sections arranged shortest to longest.

Then, running over the resonators, wooden crossrails suspend the parts to support the keyboard.

Under the lowest and longest keys are those curved resonators, fashioned from angled, soldered pieces of tubing.

Posts mounted in the wooden crossrails support the cotton cord running through the key's nodal holes.

At the end of each resonator is a patented tuning plug.

After using a lave to shape a piece of hard plastic into a cylinder with a required diameter, they saw off a slice about the size of a hockey puck.

They then quarter the slice, running the cuts just 90% of the way through.

These slots make the plug flexible.

Next, they drill a threaded hole through the center to the same depth as the slots and wrap the edge in polyethylene gasket tape.

The tape smoothes the surface, helping the plug glide easily into the resonator.

Then they thread a wing screw into the center hole and insert the plug into the corresponding resonator.

To tune the instrument before playing, you move the plug up or down until the node is the exact same pitch as the key above.

Then you turn the screw to push the sections outward, locking the plug in position.

everything from this point on is in the marimbist's hands.


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

Glass bottles...

Hacksaws...

And goalie masks.

Whether they're colored or clear, glass bottles and jars are green.

No trees died to make this eco-friendly packaging.

Glass is made of natural ingredients that are abundant.

You can recycle glass endlessly, and making it uses less energy than producing metal or plastic.

The recipe for glass combines about a half a dozen natural, raw materials, but the main ones are silica sand, soda ash, and limestone.

Silica sand usually makes up about 45% of the batch.

The soda ash helps melt the silica evenly.

It comprises about 15%.

A limestone content of about 10% make the finished glass more durable.

They combine these ingredients with recycled glass called cullet.

The factory's equipment feeds precise amounts of the materials into a furnace.

Over a full day, the fiery heat-- 2,730 degrees fahrenheit-- melts everything together, producing a gooey liquid that's the consistency of honey.

The molten glass pours out of the furnace.

Sheers cut the flow at precise intervals to produce cylindrical gobs.

Each gob is the exact amount required to make one bottle or jar.

They drop to a device called the scoop.

The scoop moves them to troughs that feed them to jar-forming and bottle-forming machines.

A gob of molten glass goes into a preliminary mold.

In a matter of seconds, it comes out as what's called a parison, a miniature version of the final bottle.

Each parison then moves into a blow mold, the cavity of which is the shape of the final bottle.

The equipment blows the compressed air into the parison, stretching the glass outward toward the wall of the mold cavity.

This process creates the final bottle shape and hollows out the inside.

These are amber-colored beer bottles.

The color is produced by adding small amounts of iron, sulfur, and carbon to the glass mix.

The factory uses a similar manufacturing process to produce other types of bottles and jars.

In this run, the company is making 375-millimeter wine bottles out of clear glass.

This run is producing 375-millimeter liquor bottles, also out of clear glass.

But this mold has a special feature-- a recessed insignia on one of the walls, which produces a raised insignia on the front of the bottle.

After the bottles leave the forming machine, they travel through flames, otherwise they would cool down too quickly and crack from thermal shock.

A loader now gently pushes the bottles into what's called an annealing lyre.

The bottles cool at a controlled rate as they move through the lyre.

This releases stress from the glass gradually.

As the bottles exit the annealing lyre, a sprayer coats their exteriors with lubricant.

This enables them to move smoothly through the rest of the inspection and packaging line.

The bottles now line up in single file to head into the automatic inspection station.

As the machine spins each bottle, cameras and probes check for imperfections such as cracks or bubbles.

The inspection equipment then examines the top to check dimensions and insure the threads for the screw cap are molded correctly.

Before shipping, a worker does a final visual inspection.

The proportion of cullet and glass can be as high as 90%.

Cullet melts at a lower temperature.

So for every 10% of cullet in the mix, the factory uses up to 2 1/2% less energy to produce its glass.

Now that's an incentive to recycle.

The world of saws is made up of many marvelous tools-- big saws and jigsaws, handsaws and band saws, backsaws and hacksaws.

They all have their specific purpose.

Hacksaws are chiefly for cutting metal or other tough materials.

So what keeps hacksaws on the cutting edge?

Hacksaws come in many shapes and sizes.

Companies make hacksaw blades out of a wide range of steel alloys.

Here a thin band of steel feeds into a machine that cuts it into blanks 10 to 12 inches long and a half-inch high.

Workers load 300 blanks at a time into a jig.

They lightly hammer them to compress them into a block for easier cutting.

They then feed the block into a machine called a mill grinder.

It cuts teeth into the upper side of the blanks.

A water-based lubricant washes away the metal particles.

This hacksaw model has a 24-point blade, which means there are 24 teeth to every inch.

Workers use an ordinary paintbrush to remove any metal residue.

The quality-control department inspects each blade for flaws.

Then it's off to the next phase.

Next, a separator detaches each of the 300 blades, aligns them, then sends them through a setting machine.

The machine bends the teeth to either side at a slight angle.

This is called offsetting.

It'll enable the blade to clear away particles as it saws, preventing it from jamming.

Now it's time to harden the teeth.

The factory does this by heat-treating the metal.

A worm gear aligns the blades to enter a heating coil.

In this process, the electromagnetic heating coil heats the teeth to temperatures as high as 2,200 degrees fahrenheit depending on the type of metal.

This takes no more than two seconds.

After the blades exit the heating coil, the surrounding air cools them down over the next several hours.

This phase is called air quenching.

The blades are now ready for printing.

An offset printing press applies ink to raised lettering on a cylinder.

That cylinder transfers the ink to strips mounted on another cylinder.

These strips then print the company name, the blade length, and the number of teeth per inch on the side of the blades.

Now a machine inserts the blades in groups of five into slots called fingers.

The fingers rotate the blades and place them on a conveyor belt.

The machine raises the blades and tapes them together at one end.

This makes it easier to transport them to another part of the factory where production continues.

Next, the hacksaw's frame, the component that holds the blade.

Workers place the frame components in a jig that's positioned on a rotating carousel.

A robotic welder fuses the components.

A press punches three holes in the handle for attaching a foam or plastic grip.

Workers fit the two halves of the grip in a sonic welder that fuses them using high-frequency sound waves.

The sound waves create friction at the seam.

This generates enough heat to melt the parts together.

Now the frame is ready for the blade.

An automatic device tightens a wing nut to put tension on the blade.

A final quality-control check.

With each randomly selected blade, the testing machine cuts through a block of stainless steel.

The machine performs this test six times per blade.

Then the computer calculates the average number of strokes.

If the average falls within the norms for this particular model, the batch gets the thumbs-up.

Goalie masks are all about putting up a tough front.

It's not just their protective shell and cage.

Their wild paint jobs are designed to intimidate.

Incredibly, back in the 1960s, the first masked goalies were ridiculed by fans who viewed the masks as a sign of weakness.

It was a case of adding insult to injury.

Today these masks allow the goaltender to play it safe, so they're far less likely to be sidelined by a serious injury.

They start with a plaster mold of an average joe.

They plug the mouth hole with plasticine.

This insures that the mold won't spring any leaks while they fill it with plaster of paris.

They let it dry for half an hour.

Then they pull off the initial mold to reveal the solid impression.

They press plasticine onto strategic areas.

This mimics the foam safety guards that cushion every mask.

The final result is called a plug, and it will be used to make a two-part compression mold.

After applying a black sealer, they polish it smooth, eliminating imperfections that would be visible on the mold they're going to make from it.

Over at another station, a worker in protective garb unrolls fiberglass fabric.

He cuts and layers sheets of it, then draws patterns onto the tops one, spacing the shapes closely together to minimize waste.

The goal is to score 100 goalie masks from one roll of material.

Using a disc cutter, he slices through 25 layers of the fiberglass fabric.

Then he stacks various composite fabrics-- several of the fiberglass one and patches of kevlar-- for reinforcement.

Kevlar can absorb so much impact, it's also used to make bulletproof vests.

He places more fabric over the kevlar.

He spreads an epoxy resin onto each layer.

He drapes them over a mold that's been made from the plug and smoothes the material to eliminate air pockets as he continues to layer and glue.

He's laminating all the pieces together to form one.

He trims away the ragged edges...

And then places the inside portion of the mold into the outside one.

The wet fabric is now sandwiched between two mold pieces.

He lowers a one-ton press to compress the layers of fabric as the resins between them continue to form a bond.

He adds some clamps to keep things tight.

After 20 minutes, he pries the laminated fiberglass shell out of the mold.

This is one very tough shell.

It's the raw form of a goalie mask, but it still needs a lot of work.

So it's over to the trimming-and-grinding station.

He places a trim jig over the shell.

Using a high-speed router, he cuts an opening for the cage.

He slices off the flash with a disc grinder.

And then he sands and grinds the edges.

He drills holes to attach various fasteners.

Then he carves out larger holes for ventilation and to reduce the mask's weight.

Coming up next...

Watch as the paint pros go to work on these shells.

The makers of goalie masks have turned safety into an art form.

The goalie mask has become a canvas for some very bold designs and colors.

It's a kind of psychological tactic to intimidate the other team, and it also scores points with the fans who like the cool paint job.

They prep the mask by roughing it up with an orbital sander.

Then they pour a sealer into a container.

The technician wears a charcoal respirator because the emissions are toxic.

He adds the activator solution...

And a reactive reducer and stirs the sealer together.

Then he sprays the sealer mix onto the masks.

The finish will cure and harden as the chemicals in it generate their own heat.

Next, this system stirs up some hot hues automotive paint as the technician sprays a vivid gold base coat onto the masks.

Computer graphics created with signlab software are sent to a plotter that cuts out adhesive vinyl paint masks.

He pulls away unneeded vinyl around the stencil, a process called weeding.

Then he presses the vinyl stencils against the goalie mask and peels off the paper backing.

Applying a stencil to the crown is tricky because the surface is curved with ridges, so it doesn't lay flat.

He lifts and cuts the pattern with a utility knife and then straightens it out.

This mask is starting to look pretty impressive, but they cover the whole thing with white paint.

It's a temporary cover-up.

This process is all about layering patterns and color.

They apply more vinyl shapes.

And then, using a pressurized paint system, they spray everything bright red.

Next, an artist airbrushes some shadowing onto the now barely visible image of a leaf.

He peels away some of the paint-mask vinyl.

And it's time for a really neat effect.

He sprinkles the surface of the mask with water.

Then he mists it with paint, and the water droplets catch the paint.

He blasts it with a heat gun.

The water evaporates, but the paint dries in droplet form, giving the mask a frosty look.

He airbrushes a drop shadow around some lettering, dispensing with the usual safety gloves for this detail work.

And now all is revealed as he peels away the vinyl.

The goalie mask is showing its true colors.

But wait--  a little touch-up job is needed.

He traces the pattern onto see-through paper and then transfers it onto bristol board.

He cuts it out with a utility knife.

Then he aligns it with a shape on the mask and precisely airbrushes around it to make the smudge disappear.

With a final clear coat, this mask has visual impact.

It makes a colorful statement.

And now it's time to put all the pieces together.

She screws on the stainless-steel cage and applies a little glue to reinforce the adhesive-back foam cushioning.

She attaches the sweatband with velcro so it can be removed and washed.

And then she moves on to the back plate.

She threads the harness through the back plate to the front of the mask to attach them.

The harness is elastic, so it gives the mask some flexibility.

Now it's ready for some ice time.

And with their various custom paint jobs, these masks all say the "puck" stops here.


Socket Sets
Leather Shoes
Aluminum Water Bottles
Bike Chains

The invention of the socket wrench in 1864 put a whole new twist on fastening things.

With the socket wrench's ratchet mechanism, the user could tighten bolts in a continuous motion without breaking to refit the wrench to the fastener.

It was a real time-saver.

Modern socket wrenches come with a range of sockets and extensions to handle the nuts and bolts of many different jobs.

They start with this coil of thick steel.

It travels through a die which straightens it to a knife that slices it into short billets.

A machine then drives a series of forming tools into the billets.

The tools force them into a socket shape and create the all-important hexagonal opening that matches the profile of the nuts and bolts.

To get rid of lingering lubricating oil, the parts go for a tumble through a spiral washer/dryer system.

A conveyor delivers them to a computerized cutting tool.

It removes sharp edges and sculpts a bevel on the socket's inner rim so it will slide onto bolts more easily.

It takes just seconds to improve this socket's profile.

Different tools then sculpt the square opening in the drive end of the socket.

That's the part that locks onto the end of the ratchet wrench.

A powerful rolling stamp now engraves the part's size and the company name onto it.

Once those details are out of the way, it's into a flaming oven to undergo a heat-treating process.

A rapid cooldown follows the heat treatment, hardening the metal.

The sockets now toss about in this rotating chamber as they're blasted with very fine steel particles.

This cleans the parts and buffs the parts, but there's much more polishing to come.

They clamp the sockets onto a rotating table.

It delivers the part to a grinding belt for a very vigorous polishing.

You can see the difference this makes in the part on the right, but these sockets need to be absolutely flawless.

So they next go into a tub of ceramic stones.

They rub mild acid onto the parts to get rid of any small blemishes that remain.

The parts then receive a thorough wash and rinse, which prepares them for chrome plating.

Now freshly chromed, the sockets look way too nice to be immersed in this brownish stuff, but it's actually a rustproofing solution to protect them from corrosion.

They lock the tub of sockets in a centrifuge machine.

It spins the parts to get rid of the excess rustproofing liquid.

And now these sockets are ready to shine on the job.

Attachable extensions improve the reach of the socket wrench.

Forming equipment swings into action, pressing steel billets into dies to mold them into the rough shape of an extension.

After a wash and dry, it's over to a lathe.

And as the extension spins, cutting tools create the squared opening that allows it to be attached to the wrench.

Cutters then go to work on the other end.

They shape it so it will fit into various sockets and shave the shank to reduce its diameter.

Next, a rolling stamp cuts a knurled texture into the socket-wrench extension, creating a much less slippery surface to hang on to.

They insert a stainless-steel spring into a hole formed at the end of the extension...

Then scoop up a steel ball so it sits in the cavity above the spring.

A machine then press-fits it to the extension.

This creates a mechanism onto which the sockets attach.

It takes about three days to complete this socket set, but it will equip you to handle jobs of many sizes and just about any tight situation.

If you're a lover of fine footwear, when it comes to dressing your feet, nothing beats leather because, unlike synthetic materials, leather lets your feet breathe.

And high-end leather shoes feature superior construction that makes them lightweight and comfortable to wear.

The vision originates with a design sketched on a flexible plastic sheet.

To help the stylist perfect the design, they put it on a rigid foot form called a last.

Exotic skins have natural variations throughout, so a specialist must hand-cut the pattern pieces to ensure the right and left shoes match well.

They use a splitting machine to shave off a layer from the underside, equalizing the thickness of all the pieces.

Then a skiving machine thins the edges so the pieces will be easier to sew together.

They punch decorative holes into certain pieces with a manual press, so it's up to the operator to make sure the distance between holes is consistent.

The top of the shoe is called the upper.

They sew together the upper pieces, then hammer the stitches to make the seam smooth and flat.

Next they glue a narrow leather strip along the border of the upper to hide the leather's unfinished edge.

This also produces a decorative trim.

Now they attach a lining made of goat leather and flax.

This style of lining fits snugly over the last, a particular type of construction that allows for a more comfortable type of insole.

They put the lining inside the upper and slip them onto the last.

Then they glue on the insole.

This type consists of a rigid section-- the black part-- and a more flexible section--  the white part.

Now they glue the lining to the upper and put the front of the shoe, called the point, into a machine that grips the edge of the leather and pulls it straight.

The next machine's mechanical fingers wrap the edge underneath and glue it, pulling evenly all around so that everything's symmetrical.

The next machine does the same thing at the back of the shoe.

They grind down the leather edge, creating a flat, even surface that's ready for the sole.

Next they heat the leather to make it malleable and hammer until the upper assumes the shape of the last inside.

The hammering also rids the leather of any wrinkles.

They coat the underside with glue and carefully position the shoe's leather sole.

The glue takes about 10 minutes to dry.

Then they run the edge of the sole through a splitting machine.

This separates a thin layer which they now sew to the upper.

Durable twine and a heavy-duty loop stitch ensure the upper and sole remain inseparable.

To hide the stitching, they glue and grind down the edge.

A thorough polishing gives the sole a slick-looking finish.

Every pair of shoes this factory produces is polished by a specialist, who creates just the right shading to bring out the leather's best features.

This is the last step of roughly 200 manual operations that go into producing just a single pair of these luxurious leather shoes.

It was swiss hikers who carried the first aluminum drink bottles in the early part of the 20th century.

Today's lightweight bottles can be reused endlessly, meaning less waste in landfills.

They can also be recycled, so making one is not a wasted effort.

Some of those first trailblazing bottles still survive today, reminding us that this kind of container is made to last.

Today's bottle starts with an aluminum puck 2 3/4 inches in diameter.

The puck travels down a chute into a punch press.

It uses 660 tons of force to stretch that little puck into a long cylinder with a bottom.

A blade chops the open end down to the correct size, and then a tool pushes it onto a conveyor that sends it down the line.

The aluminum cylinder lands on a wheel which relays it to the next station.

There, machinery moves the cylinder's open end into position for tools to squeeze it into a bottleneck.

The tools pinch the metal a total of 26 times to draw the open end down to half its original diameter.

This gentle forming process results in less stress on the metal.

The last tool presses a threaded ring into the inside of the bottle for screwing on the cap.

The process leaves the threaded neck a lot thicker than the rest of the bottle so it will hold up to heavy usage.

Now the bottles head into a wash station.

They get a really good scrubbing to remove the lubricating oil from the forming process.

They then travel through a dryer, and after a few minutes, they emerge clean and ready for the next operation.

The interior wall of the aluminum drink bottle is about to be lined with a microthin, high-tech polymer.

This revolving device picks up each bottle using suction and delivers it to an individual sprayer.

The spray nozzle coats the inside of this container with a polymer.

The liner has been specially formulated to be chemically inert, which means it won't absorb or transfer flavors.

At this point, the coating is powdery, and you could wipe it off with your finger, but that's just temporary.

As they bake it, the powder will solidify and bond completely to the inside of the bottle.

The bottles move through an oven that's heated to 356 degrees fahrenheit for 10 minutes.

The liner doesn't add much weight to the bottle.

Here they weigh one before lining and after, and the difference is just a few grams.

Now the bottles spin by a gauntlet of spray guns for an even coat of paint.

Like the inner liner, this outer veneer will need to be baked on.

When it dries, the paint takes on a glossy look.

An automated squeegee silk-screens designs onto the bottles.

A jet of air dries the ink between printings as they build up the artwork using different colors.

And now it's time to screw on the cap.

As she caps the bottle, this worker performs a final inspection of the product.

From a small aluminum puck to a handy drink bottle-- incredibly, this transformation has taken just three hours.

And in its various styles, this reusable bottle is sure to make a lasting impression.

Pedaling a bicycle causes a chain reaction that sets wheels in motion.

A bicycle chain is essentially a roller chain.

It's designed specifically to transfer pedal power to the bicycle's rear drive wheel.

With a good bicycle chain, you can go far or, at the very least, take a short spin around the hood.

The chain is the driving force in a bicycle's transmission system.

It travels over gears in a perpetual loop to keep the cyclist moving forward.

Actions like shifting gears or braking will regularly put this critical mechanism to the test.

It all starts with this punch press.

It cuts and presses steel into the shape of the chain's inner links, which looks a lot like a figure eight.

Incredibly, it generates 10,000 links per hour.

Each of these figure-eight links has been made to interconnect, and their contours allow them to travel easily across the bike's gear sprockets.

They send samples of the links to a measuring station to confirm the space between the holes is precisely 12.7 millimeters.

The tester also gauges the diameter of the holes, which must be accurate to within a fraction of a millimeter.

Then the links bake in an oven at more than 1,500 degrees fahrenheit.

The blazing heat, followed by a quick cooldown, hardens the steel.

They now shovel these inner links into a doughnut-shaped machine.

They add ceramic and silica powders...

And pour in a small amount of water.

They then screw the lid on this machine.

It shakes vigorously, causing the powders and water to form an abrasive paste that polishes the links.

They load the polished inner links into a metal basket and shut the door.

Machinery plunges the basket into a series of chemical baths to give these inner links a nickel-teflon veneer.

The nickel-teflon surface will resist corrosion, and its smooth texture will allow the chain to travel easily over gear sprockets.

The bike chain's outer links get a different kind of finish.

Unlike the inner links, they don't travel over sprockets, so a simple nickel plating will do.

They're now ready to assemble the chain one section at a time.

Tubes feed the parts one by one into this assembly machine.

Gripper arms adjust their position to assemble the links to other chain components, such as retainer rings and spacers.

The machinery presses pins into the links' holes to secure the assembly.

Then grippers move the completed section of chain down the line.

It takes a whole lot of little pieces to build one short section of bicycle chain.

The sections are linked together in one long chain, which now winds by an inspection station to be examined for flaws.

After that, the chain takes a dip in hot oil, which lubricates the links to prevent squeakiness and wear down the road.

The chain exits the lubricating station and travels by wads of absorbent material, which soaks up the excess grease.

A laser tool then signals the location where the chain is to be cut, and a blade chops it at the exact spot.

A standard bike chain is just over 56 inches in length.

It consists of 114 inner links and 114 external ones, so it's got what it takes to go the distance.

If you have any questions about the show, or if you'd like to suggest topics for future shows, drop us a line at...


A quality pot and pan has the ability to heat uniformly throughout so that food cooks evenly.

Copper is by far the best heat conductor, but copper cookware is very expensive.

Aluminum conducts heat well but isn't durable.

So many cooks use stainless-steel cookware that contains aluminum.

This high-end line of stainless-steel cookware has an aluminum core running throughout.

Production begins with two stainless-steel sheets.

Using a spot welder, workers tack them together along one side.

Then they lay the connected sheets onto an assembly fixture.

A vacuum arm pulls up the top sheet, and they insert an aluminum sheet in between.

This metal sandwich goes onto a conveyor that takes it on a 10-minute ride through an oven.

The heat--  700 degrees fahrenheit-- softens the metal.

This preps them for the bonding and shaping operations to come.

From the oven, the metals enter the first mill, which uses electric current to heat and bond the three layers into one.

Now it's into a second rolling mill.

This one strengthens the bond.

That steam you see is the water-soluble lubricant evaporating against the hot metal.

Now the bonded metal travels to a second oven for reheating.

This further strengthens the bond.

From there, it's into a 110-ton press.

It forces down a die to cut out the starting shape of the piece of cookware they're making.

They clean off any debris from the metal cutting.

Even a minute shard getting under the press would damage the metal.

Now the disk goes into a 220-ton press containing a forming tool, which forms it into the shape of a 10-inch frying pan.

A sheet of paper between each shaped pan prevents scratches.

They install different forming tools on the press to produce different types of cookware, from saucepans to stockpots.

Now that they've formed the shape, they need to do some refining.

This trimming press first removes excess metal around the perimeter.

Next comes what they call edge conditioning.

The perimeter trimming left the rim rough, so now they smooth it by running it against a cutter at high speed.

The next stop is a polishing machine with an abrasive belt.

The pan's interior surface rotates at high speed against the belt.

The result is a high-gloss finish.

Now for the exterior.

The pans go onto a rotary buffer.

Each pan runs against 10 progressively finer buffing wheels.

By the end of the circuit, the stainless steel has a mirror finish.

It's time to get a handle on this cookware.

First, they use a press that's essentially an industrial-strength hole puncher.

It applies nearly 20 tons of force to perforate the metal.

Workers position rivets in the holes, then use another press to squeeze them flat.

As the rivets spread outward, they secure the handle firmly in place.

This company's top-of-the-line stainless-steel cookware contains a copper core within the aluminum core-- a structure designed specifically for induction cooking, the latest culinary technology.

A thin cut along the perimeter exposes the copper within, giving this high-end cookware a signature look.

After all, performance and style are everything in an industry where the competition's always heating up.

For centuries, people have stored their possessions in special boxes-- jewelry chests, watch cases, music boxes.

Although designed for storage, they're often as beautiful and as treasured as the goods they hold-- truly ornate, handcrafted works of art in their own right.

These wooden boxes are handcrafted and decorated with beautiful wooden inlay designs.

To build the box structure, the carpenter uses linden, a soft wood that's ideal for carving.

He begins by cutting slots in each end of the four sides.

Then he glues wooden inserts, called biscuits, into one side of each piece...

Leaving the slot on the other side empty.

Then he assembles the sides by fitting the biscuits of each side into the empty slot of the connecting piece.

After clamping everything firmly together, he checks the size by tracing a template of the final shape.

Once the glue is dry, this computer-guided machine cuts the sides to that shape.

The next step will be to veneer the sides with a decorative wood, such as olive, rosewood, redwood, or california burr walnut.

For aesthetics, workers tape four identical sheets together so that the grain of the wood appears in mirror image.

The carpenter then applies a coat of glue onto the sides of the box and presses on a piece of veneer.

They've embellished this one with some inlay work beforehand.

He presses the veneer flat to force out any trapped air.

This design calls for a black strip of bolivar wood to ornament each corner.

To make the box cover, the carpenter uses a machine called a pantograph.

He moves the head in the middle over a model of the cover.

This simultaneously moves routers on each side to shape a piece of wood to the same form.

Meanwhile, the inlayer lays a drawing of the cover's decorative design on a stack of wood boards and cuts out inlay pieces for several covers at once.

To color the edges of select pieces, the inlayer burns them in hot sand.

Some types of wood turn brown--  others, green.

After hand-cutting the design outline in a veneer sheet, the inlayer uses tweezers to position the pieces of inlay one by one.

A sheet of adhesive paper underneath holds the pieces in place for now.

Once the design is complete, the carpenter fills the crevices around the pieces with plaster tinted to blend in.

A final layer of plaster goes over the entire design to hold all the pieces in place permanently.

Once the plaster hardens, he covers the entire inlaid sheet in glue, further securing the inlaid pieces.

Now he flips it over, then peels away the adhesive paper...

And voilà.

He glues the inlaid sheet to the box cover.

Pressing it down firmly is a delicate process when the cover's curved like this one.

One wrong move, and crack.

After lacquering the edge of the cover, workers apply four coats of high-gloss varnish to protect the wood.

Finally, they screw on the box bottom, mount the cover to the box with hinges, install any other hardware, such as keyholes, and if it's a music box, install the musical movement.

Conventional gas water heaters are only about 75% thermally efficient.

But high-efficiency water heaters are up to 96% thermally efficient, meaning almost all the heat they generate gets transferred to the water.

It's the unique heat exchanger that makes these water heaters so energy-efficient.

The heat exchanger resides in the center of the unit.

It's made of steel pipe that goes through a process called mandrel bending.

Mandrel bending prevents the 12-yard-long pipe from kinking as it turns into the shape of a coil.

A welder fuses steel rods to the sides of the coil, making the flexible heat exchanger suitably ridged.

Next, a machine pumps a ceramic enamel through the pipe, from the bottom up, to ensure full coverage.

This coating protects the interior of the pipe against corrosion.

It takes about 6 minutes to fully coat the inside of the pipe and drain the remaining liquid.

It takes about 15 minutes inside a furnace for the coating to cure and become rock hard.

Now it's time to seal the heat exchanger inside an inner tank.

They first set it down on a base, then cover it with a steel enclosure.

It's this inner tank that holds the hot water.

The tank then goes into a vertical press that pushes it down onto the base.

A computerized arc-welding machine welds the tank together.

A technician then pressurizes the tank with air, and, using water, he checks for leaks until he's satisfied there are none.

He then pumps ceramic enamel into the tank, and a tumble-coating machine shakes up the corrosion-resistant enamel, fully coating the inside of the tank as well as the outside of the heat exchanger.

A technician then inserts cold-water inlet tubes into each tank.

He also inserts aluminum anode rods to help protect the inside of the unit by absorbing corrosive elements in the water before they can attack the steel tank.

After attaching all the plumber's fittings, he installs a second anode rod that gives the tanks double corrosion protection.

Now they put on what's called a rolling foam stop that helps them fit a painted jacket over the shell and maintain it in place.

Here, they attach the gas valve that is used to light the burner.

A painted cover then goes on the top of the jacket.

They connect a blower to the tank.

The blower is what expels the burner's spent gases to the outside air.

The next step is to hook up a burner to the gas valve.

This burner is what heats the air that goes through the heat exchanger, which, in turn, transfers its heat to the water.

A technician now fills the cavity between the inner shell and outer jacket with high-density expanding foam.

This foam insulation is about 2 inches thick and goes all around the circumference of the tank to prevent heat loss.

The unit then gets a cosmetic cover that conceals the blower.

Finally, a technician hooks up and tests each unit.

He follows strict quality-control standards which guarantee that the burner and all the fittings and connections are working properly.

Only then is the unit ready for shipping.

High-efficiency water heaters can deliver all the hot water you need and save you money while they're at it.

The motor scooter as we know it hit the streets just after world war ii.

Europe was rebuilding its devastated infrastructure, and the scooter offered affordable transportation at this critical time.

So in a small way, it helped put the postwar economy on the road to recovery.

Many decades after it was first introduced, the scooter is still big on the streets, and the uncertain cost of fuel is one reason why.

Production begins with a step-through chassis.

It's often built on a tubular frame.

But at this factory, they have a unique approach.

Robots join three pieces of molded steel together by executing hundreds of precision welds.

This transforms the three molded pieces into one solid chassis.

After rustproofing and priming, the chassis gets a paint job and a clear protective veneer.

They cure the finish by baking it on.

Then they polish away any imperfections.

The chassis moves down the line, where a technician installs its radiator system.

The next assembler clamps the radiator's wiring and hoses to the vehicle framework.

Some plastic edging helps define the lines of the scooter.

This model receives a 4-stroke, 150cc engine, which will make this scooter a bit more peppy than some.

It also has an automatic transmission.

Once the rear wheel has been installed, the worker hoists the engine over to the chassis.

He guides it into place just behind the passenger seat and then bolts it to the steel framework.

Next up is the steering column with the front brakes and wheel hub already attached.

The technician assembles it to a front fender...

Then inserts the steering column in its slot at the front of the scooter body.

Securing it is a delicate business.

He tightens this special tool to gently squeeze the assembly together.

This technique prevents damage to the components.

The handlebar is loosely screwed into place for now but will be properly tightened down later.

This scooter's front wheel has a 12-inch rim.

That's quite a bit bigger than those on early scooters.

The bigger wheels add stability and allow this scooter to reach a higher speed than its forerunners.

To illuminate the road ahead, this 2-wheeler will need a headlight.

It mounts onto the handlebar.

A technician then puts this scooter to the test.

She checks the headlight and all the signal lights.

She engages the motor and throttles up to check both wheels and the speed gauges.

Once it gets the okay, a worker installs the cover on the horn and then accessorizes the scooter with pieces of trim.

And now they install the scooter's saddle on a hinge over a storage compartment.

Another buff and polish makes this machine gleam.

The worker then installs pop-out footrests for the passenger.

After one last shine, it's over to the quality inspector.

That's the lady in yellow.

She scrutinizes the vehicle from all angles.

And when she gives it the green light, this scooter is ready to merge with traffic.

Life on the street can be tough, but this design has had a lot of road testing over the years, and that's what makes the motor scooter a classic.


Thinning Shears
Wagon Wheels
Toaster Pastries
Violin Bows

Thinning shears are scissors with at least one comb-like blade.

When the blades come together, some hair falls between the teeth of the comb, and that hair is cut while other strands are left intact.

A few quick snips, and this handy tool can do a lot for your style.

It's often necessary to go many lengths to achieve the right look.

Stylists use thinning shears to layer a cut from the inside.

This removes bulk to give hair height.

When it comes to improving your hairdo, thinning shears definitely have the teeth for the job.

They start with stainless-steel rods.

The rods ride a magnetized conveyor up to an induction heater.

It heats each rod from the ends until it becomes white-hot and soft.

The rod is now ready for forging.

A worker moves the hot rod back and forth over a die as a hammer slams into it.

This flattens and forms it into the shape of two scissor blades.

The forging leaves a lot of excess steel around the blades.

They cut away that excess.

Reheated now, a worker plunges the blades into a lead bath.

Then he dips them in oil, standing back as they flame up.

The lead bath and the quick cooldown harden the steel.

Another worker then clamps a blade into position.

A cutting wheel rolls into action and carves a comb profile into the blade.

A constant flow of water-based coolant keeps the temperature of the cutting wheel and the scissor part down, otherwise the cutting process could cause them both to overheat and compromise their strength and integrity.

This is the thinning scissor blade before cutting, and this is the blade with its new teeth.

At the next workstation, a robot transfers a blade to an automated grinding machine.

The machine grinds both the front and sides of the teeth to smooth the rough edges.

This robotic system processes up to 150 scissor blades an hour.

Next, it's into a tumbler filled with synthetic pebbles.

As the thinning blades bounce around, friction happens.

This smoothes more rough edges, especially the handles and finger rings that didn't undergo grinding at the robot station.

After about four hours, a magnetic conveyor retrieves them.

Then the midsection, where the two blades are to be joined, receives hands-on attention as a worker smoothes it using a fine abrasive sanding belt.

They move on to the straight scissor blade.

An employee hones it against a horizontal grinding wheel.

This aligns the cutting edge.

He inserts the threaded screws in holes in a straight-edged blade and in the corresponding comb-like blade.

He brings the two together and then tightens the screws to a specific torque.

Too tight or too loose, and these thinning shears won't operate smoothly.

With an emery board, he gently files the shears to get ride of lingering dust from the extensive grinding.

He now tests their function.

It isn't entirely smooth, so hammers a section of the comb blade to level it.

It now moves more freely against the straight blade.

And now the ultimate test-- he tries them out on a lock of artificial hair, and he confirms that these thinning shears are as sharp as they look.

Next, the blade comes up against a spinning leather belt.

This takes it from merely sharp to razor-sharp.

It also polishes the blade to a mirror finish.

A computerized laser burns the brand name and model information into the shears.

They screw a brass nub to the finger ring to give the pinkie finger something to rest against.

These thinning shears are now ready for shipment.

Soon, they'll be in the thick of things at the beauty salon.

Wooden wagon wheels roll through the tumbleweeds of another time.

Fixed to covered wagons, they transported settlers to the american west in the 18th and 19th centuries.

There are now cities and freeways where wagon wheels once blazed trails, but making them is not a lost art.

A thriving nostalgia industry keeps these big wooden wheels turning.

Wagon wheels are in demand for historical re-enactment events, museums, and the movies.

The wheelwright carves the hub from a chunk of strong, rot-resistant oak.

As it spins on a lathe, he cuts it to length.

He stops the lathe and marks measurements for the wagon wheel's profile, sizing it for reinforcing metal hoops.

He resumes carving, using the penciled lines as a guide.

He transforms the oak blank into a barrel-shaped design, which is traditional for wagon wheel hubs of the 1870s.

With the hub now clamped in another machine, he uses a mechanized chisel to punch out regular spoke holes known as mortises.

He angles the edge of each hole to receive the tenon end of the spoke.

He slides steel hoops onto the hub at the ends and in the center.

It's a snug fit, but it's not quite tight enough.

A hydraulic press squeezes the hoops around the hub to provide just the right tension.

The hoops will act as a constricting force to keep the wood from splitting.

From a chunk of wood into a substantial wagon wheel hub.

Now using tools called spokeshaves, the wheelwright shapes the hickory wood spokes.

He narrows the throat of the spoke to add flexibility, where it is to be inserted into the hub.

He coats the mortises of the hub with glue.

He inserts the spokes into the glued holes.

He drives them into place with a sledgehammer.

There are 12 spokes in total for this front wagon wheel.

The wheelwright then spins the wheel and eyeballs it to confirm that the spokes rotate on an even plane.

Then like sharpening a pencil, he brings the ends to a point.

This prepares them for the tenon cutter that now carves them into peg shapes for insertion into the wheel rim.

He installs the steam-bent wooden rim in two sections.

It's drilled to match up with the spokes.

At first, it's easy, but as the tension builds, it becomes tougher to insert the remaining spokes, so he stretches the rim wider with a clamp.

This gives him more room to maneuver as he fits the others into the rim half.

In the process, he creates a slight bow in the plane of the wheel.

It's a truss-like state that adds strength to the wagon wheel.

Now using an electric roller machine, he bends a strip of steel into a round wagon-wheel tire.

It takes just one pass through the rollers to achieve the desired bend.

The length will need to be precisely measured.

He measures the inner circumference with an old wheelwright tool called a traveler, to determine just how much tweaking it needs.

Then using a torch, he cuts the tire to the exact length required.

He makes the tire slightly smaller than the wheel itself because it must serve as a heavy-duty elastic band to hold the assembled wagon wheel together.

He welds it where the ends meet, and this completes the wagon-wheel tire.

He now bakes the tire briefly in an open fire.

The metal expands and at a strategic moment, they pull it out of the flames.

The tire has stretched to the point where it can be installed on the wheel, but it's not quite hot enough to cause the wooden wheel to catch fire.

They pour water onto the tire to bring it back to a cooler temperature.

As it cools, it shrinks to the wagon wheel, creating that elastic band effect.

Next, they prime and paint a matching set of wheels in the color of the client's choice.

And with those finishing touches, these wagon wheels are en route to the past.

For fans of american history, it's sure to be a sentimental journey.

For people who need to grab a quick bite for breakfast, the invention of the toaster pastry in the 1960s was the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Finally, the toaster could be used for more than toasting bread, and the toaster pastry was definitely a sweet alternative.

The toaster pastry retains its sweetness during toasting.

The syrupy filling and frosting don't melt out and into the toaster.

It's all because of the ingredients and how they come together.

At this factory, they start by making an organic pastry.

The blender operator loads dry ingredients, like rice bran, into the blender, followed by a sugar syrup and molasses.

It's the molasses that gives the pastry a brownish color.

He adds organic palm shortening and organic granulated sugar.

The flour and water are piped into the blender barrel.

Spiraling mixers blend and knead the dough to the desired consistency.

Next, it's into a hopper that feeds the dough between two rollers.

They squeeze and flatten the dough into a sheet that's about 8/10 of an inch thick.

A conveyor moves the toaster-pastry dough forward to sets of larger rollers.

They apply serious pressure to roll the dough much thinner.

Wheels at the sides fold back the dough as the width expands.

A dusting of flour to the rollers keeps things from getting too sticky.

Coming off the final rollers, the thickness of the dough has been reduced to 2/10 of a inch.

At another station, they whipped up a batch of cherry pomegranate jam.

The jam is hearty and thick, so it won't run as nozzles pump the jam onto the rolled pastry sheet.

Each toaster pastry receives three strings of jam.

This depositor system fills 10 tarts at a time.

It works out to 390 tarts a minute.

A second sheet of dough heads towards the jam-filled one.

En route, a spiked roller punches holes for venting steam during baking.

Without these holes, the pressure would build and the toaster pastries would explode.

The top sheet of pastry now merges with the bottom one.

The conveyor belts move it exactly the same speed, so the top pastry lands in perfect alignment on the jam-filled one.

A cylinder with a brass grid pattern bears down on the pastry to compress it between the jam fillings.

This forms pockets of jam.

A cylindrical blade slices the pastry into individual tarts.

A device pulls off the side trimmings.

The toaster pastries travel through a 150-foot-long convection oven heated to 300 degrees fahrenheit.

The operator keeps a close watch for leaking jam.

That would be a sign of bad seals in the pastry pockets.

He rejects any with leaks.

He also keeps an eye on the color as the pastries brown.

They shouldn't be too dark or too light.

Fresh out of the mixer, the pink frosting now flows onto a revolving belt that spreads it onto the toaster pastries at just the right thickness.

They've added a bit of starch to the icing, and it's this starch that allows the icing to harden and set so it won't melt and drip into the toaster during toasting.

They sprinkle granulated colored sugar onto the toaster pastries.

They call this topping the crunchlets.

The crunchlets add both flavor and texture to the pastry.

Once cooled, the toaster pastries transfer from one conveyor to another.

A breaker roller snaps them at the crimp line to separate them into groups of two.

The completed tarts head towards the packaging line.

An operator does a visual inspection as they pass by.

Mechanical arms push the tarts into aluminum wrapping.

Hot rollers seal and cut the wrap at the ends.

This wrapping preserves the tarts for eight months, no preservatives needed.

Suctioning arms grab and open cartons to accept the foil-wrapped toaster pastries.

It takes about an hour to manufacture a box of toaster pastries, and now it's time for a toast.

The type of bow used today for instruments in the violin family originated in france in the 1800s.

The master bow makers of the day used pernambuco, a wood being imported from brazil to make textile dye.

They considered this wood ideal due to its strength, durability, and beauty.

Today, just like hundreds of years ago, quality bows are made of pernambuco wood from brazil and horse hair.

To make the wooden part, called the stick, the bow maker lays a template onto a .

4 to .

5-inch-thick block of pernambuco and marks where he'll make his cuts.

He follows his markings with a band saw, cutting out the stick's basic shape.

Then he planes the stick, thinning it out, tapering it to narrow toward the front, and angling the corners to make the square contour octagonal.

Next, he repeatedly heats the stick with a gas flame to soften it and gently bends it against his knee.

Then, afterward, against a wooden form to give the stick a very precise curve.

This is referred to as the camber of the bow.

Next, using a handsaw and template, he cuts out a piece of pernambuco for the bow's front tip, called the head.

He refines the shape, first with a rasp, then with a file, then with sandpaper.

Then he glues on a bone plate to protect the head from damage.

He wraps string tightly around it to apply continual pressure while the glue sets overnight.

The next day, he files down the sides to make the plate flush with the wood.

Using a traditional drill, he bores a hole about 4/10 of an inch deep into the head and chisels the hole into a trapezoid shape.

This forms the hair block into which he'll later insert the hair.

Next, he measures and marks a block of ebony wood to begin making the bow's frog, the piece at the bottom by which the musician holds the bow and adjusts the tension of the hair.

He shapes the block using first a saw, then a chisel, and rasps, files, and sands all the surfaces smooth.

The frog has a space on top called the mortis, into which he'll later insert the hair.

The bow maker glues a decorative mother-of-pearl accent onto the side, then cuts two small plugs out of maple wood.

These will anchor the hair at each end of the bow.

He inserts one into the frog's mortis...

And the other into the hair block in the head.

A bow this size requires a tenth of an ounce of hair.

That's approximately 180 horse hairs.

The bow maker bonds them at one end with some melted rosin, a sticky plant resin, then inserts this end into the frog and anchors it with a plug.

Then he bends the hairs and slides on a nickel-silver ring called a ferrule to hold them together.

More expensive bows often have a gold ferrule.

To mount the frog, he inserts a long metal screw with an adjuster head into a hole drilled into the back of the bow.

The screw operates an eyelet connected to the frog.

Now he combs the hair straight.

The individual hairs must be parallel to each other for the bow to perform properly.

He ties the loose ends together with thread and bonds them with rosin.

Then he inserts the sealed end into the tip and anchors it with that second plug.

Back to the frog now, he moves the ferrule out of position, seals the mortis with a mother-of-pearl slide, then puts the ferrule back.

He wraps the parts of the stick the musician holds in silver or gold wire and leather to protect the wood from wear and brands the maker's name.

Turning the adjuster at the back moves the frog forward and backward to alter the tension of the hair.

The violinist tightens the hair before playing and loosens it when putting the instrument away.