Automotive Fuel Pumps
Cricket Bats
Change Machines
Ductile Iron Pipe

Today on "how it's made"-- automotive fuel pumps...

Cricket bats...

Change machines...

Change machines...

And ductile-iron pipe.

And ductile-iron pipe.

When you start your car, it activates a pump that's usually located inside the gas tank.

This electrical system pushes the gas out of the tank and into injectors, which aerate the gas and deliver it to the engine cylinders.

Without a pump to get the fuel flowing, your car would be going nowhere fast.

You might think that submerging an electric pump in gasoline would be a risky thing, but liquid fuel can't explode, so it's actually a very safe place to be.

Production begins with the pumping mechanism.

A gear and several rollers are sandwiched between two metal plates.

The rollers will rotate to pull fuel into the pump before pushing it out of the tank.

Each roller assembly is tested by spinning it from the bottom.

A robot then pops it out and moves it to the next station.

Here the electric motor is attached to the roller pumping mechanism.

Then it gets a magnetic sleeve and a plastic cap.

All the parts that make up the pumping mechanism have now been assembled.

Next comes an end cap with a filter made of metal mesh.

A metal sleeve slides over the pump unit, and the whole thing is press-fit together.

Inside this chamber, large magnets generate a very strong force field.

This causes the metal sleeve to collapse, crimping at one end so that it holds everything together.

Next, retainer rings go into slots in the fuel-pump cap.

A metal bracket goes over the pump.

It steadies the assembly and serves as a guide as workers install the brushes and coils which will supply electricity to the fuel-pump motor.

A brass terminal slides onto the end of each coil and brush assembly to facilitate the electrical connection.

Then the terminals are attached to the assembly.

When the job is done, a robot removes the bracket.

They built this fuel pump from the inside out, and now the actual workings are complete.

Inspectors hook each pump up to a power source and run fluid through them to test the pumping action.

Then they check for proper flow and pressure.

If the pump passes inspection, a robot sends it down the assembly line...

Where a tubing system is being assembled to carry the gasoline to the engine.

The joints are sealed with a brazing paste.

Then it's into a gas oven, where the paste hardens and fuses to the tubing.

Workers remove the tubing from the oven and brush off any unwanted bits of metal and unwanted bits of metal and hardened paste.

Hardened paste.

The ends of the apparatus are capped to keep them from collecting dirt and debris during shipping.

Rubber tubing is attached to the pump and secured with metal clamps.

Then the rubber tubing is clamped to the metal tubing system.

Workers wire the fuel pump, then hook up a connector which will attach to the engine's wiring.

This is the sending unit.

It's a float with a metal arm that's attached to an electronic sensor.

The sensor sends information about fuel levels to the fuel gauge on the dashboard.

A computerized system checks the sending unit's accuracy as the sensor is moved up and down.

Once everything checks out, it's time to fill the tank and hit the road.

Up next-- cricket, anyone?

We'll go behind the scenes at a we'll go behind the scenes at a bat factory.

Bat factory.

References to the game of cricket date back to the 1300s.

Historians believe it started as a children's game.

In the 1600s, working men took up the pastime, and before long, it caught on with the upper classes.

By the 18th century, cricket was one of england's favorite organized sports.

Cricket bats are made of a particular species of white willow.

It has stringy wood fibers that are usually long.

These give the wood elasticity, the key to its performance.

Bat makers use as much sapwood as possible because it's moister and more flexible than the heartwood at the tree's core.

Production begins with willow pieces about 2 1/2 feet long.

The first machine trims them down roughly to size.

A few sprays of water limber up the wood fibers.

Then each piece goes through a pressing machine three to four times.

A curved roller applies up to three tons of pressure, rounding the bat's face and compressing the wood by almost half an inch.

This pressing is essential to the bat's performance and durability.

The bat maker draws a "v" on the end where the handle will attach.

Then he removes the bulk of wood behind the "v" on a table saw.

This minimizes the amount of work he'll have to do by hand later.

Now he cuts out the "v".

This creates a joint in which to insert the handle.

The handle is made of cane, dried vine stems, glued together in sections, and coated with rubber.

The grip end has been shaped on a lathe.

The other end will attach to the blade.

The bat maker cuts the block-shape tip into a wedge that will fit into the "v" cut, then glues the two pieces then glues the two pieces together.

Together.

A few taps with a hammer ensures a tight fit.

He spreads the excess glue all over the joint to seal it.

Now he shapes the bat's profile using a classic woodworking tool called a drawknife.

This takes only a few minutes but requires years of experience and an expert eye.

Then he completes the shaping with another pressing to curve the bottom third of the bat.

International cricket rules regulate the length and width of bats, but there's no restriction on curve.

Getting it right is tricky, though.

Too much curve, and he'll limit the blade's flexibility and performance.

The bat maker finishes off the shape using specialized tools.

Then he uses a metal hand plane to flatten the blade's edges.

He ensures the bat has good spring by hitting it with a dense wooden mallet.

He also analyzes the sound of the strike.

The softer the sound, the softer the wood, and the better the bat will play.

He smooths the bat against an air-filled drum sander that molds to the bat so it doesn't wear away the shape he worked so hard to achieve.

Then a worker smooths out the rest of the surface with a belt sander designed specifically for cricket bats.

The entire bat is sanded twice, first with a coarse abrasive, then with a fine one.

Next, the bat is mounted on a binding machine, where its handle gets a coat of glue.

A wrapping of twine binds together the sections of cane together the sections of cane that make up the handle.

That make up the handle.

Extra glue prevents the twine from unraveling.

Next, they polish the blade next, they polish the blade using a cotton wheel.

Using a cotton wheel.

Once the wood is shiny enough, brand-name decals go on.

Finally, a rubber grip goes over the binding to prevent the player's hands from slipping.

The bat's two main components complement each other when striking the ball.

The willow-wood blade flexes enough to deliver a good hit, and the cane handle absorbs that energy, protecting the player's hands.

When you return-- making the when you return-- making the machines that make our change.

Machines that make our change.

Change machines were invented in the mid-1950s in response to the vending-machine boom.

They began as simple mechanical coin changers, converting a quarter into nickels and dimes.

Today's modern machines can even convert $20 bills.

Times sure have changed.

It's like magic.

In goes the bill, and presto, out comes the exact change.

But behind the scenes, there's no slight of hand-- just innovative design and some pretty high-tech equipment.

Production begins with the machine's cabinet.

A computer-guided laser cuts the cabinet parts from a sheet of steel measuring 1 by 1/2 yards.

Workers shake the parts free and push out the openings in the panel that will become the cabinet's front door.

The parts are then shaped in a machine called the press break.

This is one of the door panels.

The machine forces it against a die, bending the edge.

These bent edges will strengthen the door and help it fit snugly into the frame.

The laser cutter also makes a series of holes in another cabinet part.

Then workers press threaded studs into the holes.

A vibrating feeder automatically dispenses the studs into the insertion machine.

Now they bend the sheet, again using a press break, and make the three-sided panel that will become the cabinet sides and back.

They attach the top and bottom panels.

Then they position the cabinet on a computerized welding station and rotate the table.

A robot makes precision welds behind a steel partition that shields workers from heat and harmful rays.

Now they assemble the change machine's coin dispenser.

It has two counter-rotating discs fitted to the diameter and thickness of a coin.

They work together to seize and align the coins, then drop them into the coin chute.

Workers set in these metal discs, along with a plastic gear mechanism that rotates them.

Then they secure the parts on a fixture...

And drill holes into the gear and drill holes into the gear mechanism.

Mechanism.

Roll pins are inserted to hold the parts together.

Then workers make sure the coin discs spin freely.

The next task is to assemble the coin-dispenser discs and gears.

This is precision work.

First, they set the parts in a metal casing.

Plastic rings go around the discs to guide and support the gears.

Then they attach the gear-train motor which powers the motor which powers the change-dispensing discs.

Change-dispensing discs.

A plastic guide on the casing helps the coins drop in properly.

Next comes the coin chute that guides the change out of the dispenser and into the machine's coin cup.

The dispenser holds up to $800, which can weigh a hefty 45 pounds, so it needs a strong handle.

It's locked into place with this tool, called a ring fastener.

Now it's time to put the whole machine together.

First, an electric power supply is installed on the inside back wall.

Next comes the bill validator.

And the coin cup.

Then the coin dispenser and electronic control board, the brains of the machine that calculates the change.

Finally, on go the instruction decals.

So, how do bills transform into coins?

Let's open the door and see.

First, the bill acceptor scans the bill's paper and ink, then stacks it in a box.

The processor calculates the transaction, then cha-ching, exact change.

Coming up-- turning iron and steel into the pipes that keep steel into the pipes that keep our cities running.

Our cities running.

Chances are you use ductile-iron pipe every day and don't even know it.

The underground pipes that transport a city's drinking water are cast from ductile iron.

So are the sewer pipes that take away household waist.

Ductile iron is more flexible than ordinary gray iron.

Under pressure, it will bend before it breaks.

Ductile-iron pipes are made of 90% recycled metal and have a life-span of hundreds of years.

Production begins in the pipe factory's scrapyard.

These old cars are on their way to a shredder that chews them up into little bits.

The factory sorts the bits by material.

It discards the plastic, sells the aluminum and copper, but keeps the steel and iron.

The factory also gets scrap steel from demolished buildings and other sources.

The shredded metal is analyzed by its chemical composition and sorted accordingly.

A crane operator uses an industrial magnet to gather precise amounts of steel and iron.

The shredded metals then go into a blast furnace fueled by coke, a form of coal.

At 2,500 degrees fahrenheit, the iron and steel liquefy, while impurities are carried away.

Workers then add magnesium.

This turns the metal from ordinary gray iron into stronger, more flexible ductile iron.

The molten iron travels down a trough into a casting machine.

It enters a spinning mold, where centrifugal force spreads the centrifugal force spreads the iron against the mold walls.

Iron against the mold walls.

A cooling system chills the walls, and the iron solidifies within seconds.

Then an extractor pulls out a 20-foot-long cast-iron pipe, the standard industry length.

Before each casting, workers insert a round form, called a core, into one end of the pipe mold.

The molten iron fills the void between the core and mold, forming a flared edge, called a bell.

The core also seals off that end of the mold, preventing molten iron from flying out during casting.

When it's time to connect the pipes, installers will fit the bell of one pipe over the straight end of another.

A rubber gasket seals the link together.

The casting machine can make pipes of different diameters by changing the size of the mold inside.

After the pipe is extracted, inspectors weigh it and measure the wall thickness to be sure everything meets specifications.

Then, on the bell end, they remove the core.

Since it's made of sand and plastic resin, it simply plastic resin, it simply disintegrates.

Disintegrates.

This factory makes pipes in several diameters, but regardless of size, the casting process is always the same.

It just takes less time with smaller pipes because they harden faster.

A freshly cast pipe is around 1,500 degrees fahrenheit, but it cools quickly after leaving the mold.

Such rapid cooling makes the iron brittle, so the pipe goes directly into a gas-fired annealing furnace that reheats it to 1,700 degrees fahrenheit.

This alters the internal structure of the iron, making it strong and flexible.

The pipe then runs through a cooling chamber that showers it in cold water.

To prevent the iron from corroding, the inside gets sprayed with cement, building up a lining an eighth of an inch a lining an eighth of an inch thick.

Thick.

Then the pipe is spun for a few seconds to smooth out the cement.

The entire pipe is painted inside and out.

This seals the surface, enabling the cement to cure over the next 24 hours.

It also provides some extra rust protection.

Finally, a robot paints a stripe around the straight end of each pipe.

This is a depth guideline so installation crews know when they've inserted the straight end of one pipe as far as it can go into the bell end of another.


Fly Fishing Reels
House Paint
Weaving Looms
Ice Makers

Fishing reels date back to 12th-century china.

In the beginning, they were very basic devices used only for storing extra line.

But by the 1800s, craftsmen in britain and america reinvented the reel when they gave it a drag system for landing feisty fish.

These flycasters could hook the big one at any moment, and that's when a precision fishing reel will come in handy.

To make a fly-fishing reel, they start with a solid aluminum puck.

The puck turns on a lathe as a computerized cutter contours it to shape it into a spool.

A different tool machines a center hole.

The focus then moves to the other side as another tool completes the spool shape.

The dimensions must be exact if this fishing reel is to perform flawlessly.

They drill holes to both reduce the weight of the spool and provide some ventilation for wet fishing line.

They cut windows into the other side for an attractive look that further lightens the reel.

Next, another aluminum puck is transformed into a frame for the spool and other parts.

The frame goes into a bath of soapy water and plastic pellets, which rub the part clean.

The final touch is a black oxide finish.

They now transform this aluminum bar into feet, which will be used to mount the reel to the fishing rod.

A laser engraves the company name onto these attachments.

It also does a bit of custom engraving on the frame.

A worker now inserts a bronze bushing into the center of the spool and uses hydraulic force to entrench it.

He then positions a stainless steel ball on top of the bushing.

He activates a press that drives the ball through it to expand the bushing to the correct internal dimension.

Another worker applies a counterweight to one side of the spool.

This bit of stainless steel will offset the weight of the spool handle.

She installs the spool's magnetic locking mechanism.

This molded polymer part has a tiny magnet inside.

She applies a second magnet to it, followed by a release button.

One final magnet and an aluminum cap, and this assembly is complete.

She now installs part of the drag-engagement system.

It's this system that will create the necessary resistance on the fishing line for battling a big fish.

She applies adhesive to screws and then uses them to attach the footing to the fly-reel frame, using a screwdriver to set it to a specific torque.

She then resumes the assembly of the drag system by placing a rubber "o" ring in the frame's center groove.

She installs the thrust-bearing ring, which can be rotated by the fly-fisher to adjust the drag setting.

And it's now time to attach the spool to the fishing-reel frame.

She turns it to check the drag setting and adjusts it to its starting point.

She secures the setting by inserting a pin into the bearing.

Then she removes the center locking screw temporarily to assemble the knob base to the thrust bearing.

She reinstalls the screw and covers the assembly with the drag knob.

She turns the spool for a final inspection, confirming that this fishing reel operates smoothly.

And now it's ready to put a positive spin on any fishing experience.

A fresh coat of latex paint is a surefire way to spruce up a home.

Latex is a term for acrylic or vinyl resins.

Latex paint is water-based, so it has less odor than alkaline paint.

It also cleans up without any harsh solvents.

All you need is soap and water.

The paint factory produces an uncolored base.

The store then tints that base to the color ordered by the customer.

Latex paint contains water, latex for adhesion, titanium dioxide, calcium carbonate, potassium, zinc for mildew resistance, and whatever additives the particular type of paint requires.

For example, if it's paint designed for metal, a rust inhibitor.

They pump the water into a large mixing tank.

Then they add a thickening agent and stabilizer to prevent the ingredients from settling to the bottom of the tank and to the bottom of the can once the paint is packaged.

A vacuum duct sucks up the waste.

One at a time, all the ingredients except the latex go in.

There's a specific mixing time after each ingredient because proper blending is critical for quality.

Now they pump the tank's contents into another mixing tank that contains the latex.

After four to six hours of blending, the industrial-sized batch of paint base is finally ready.

The factory subjects a sample from every batch to extensive quality-control testing.

This viscometer measures the thickness of the paint.

This test assesses how well the dry ingredients have dispersed within the mix.

This tells them whether the mix is blended well enough to move into the second tank containing the latex.

Technicians also conduct color tests, adding recipes of liquid colorants to a gallon sample.

This is to ensure the shade comes out exactly the way it's supposed to.

To check if the paint covers well, they brush it onto test paper.

The stripes provide a contrast so that any defects in the paint, such as foam or grit, will show.

This test evaluates tint strength.

Once the paint sample dries, they analyze its color properties with a machine called a spectrophotometer.

Once the batch passes inspection, it proceeds to packaging.

Latex paint contains about 60% water, which corrodes metal, so the steel cans are lined with an anti-rust coating.

The cans run over a glue applicator, then over a label, which instantly sticks to the adhesive.

The next stop is a filling machine.

Each can sits on a scale that's positioned under a dispensing nozzle.

Once the scale detects the correct net weight, it triggers the nozzle to stop.

From the filling machine to a lid dispenser that drops a cover onto each can.

Then it's on to what's called a lid press.

As each can passes underneath, a row of cylinders gradually presses in the lid.

The next machine, called a baler, attaches a curved handle made of steel wire.

It locks the handle ends into metal disks on both sides of the can.

The factory varies its formulations to produce paint in lusters ranging from flat to high gloss and for interior and exterior use, making sure it's got every possible application covered.

Looms for handweaving cloth have become increasingly sophisticated over time.

But the basic concept still remains the same-- weaving horizontal threads, called weft threads, through vertical threads, called warp threads, to create the patterns in the cloth.

The loom lifts selected warp threads.

The weaver passes the weft thread between the warp threads, then uses a beater to pack the weft tightly.

They construct the loom's frame out of ash, which is strong enough to withstand the pulling of up to thousands of threads.

Workers submerge the frame pieces in mineral oil to prevent the wood from drying out.

They assemble the frame pieces with heavy-duty nuts and bolts, then mount high-strength plastic brackets for attaching the various components, such as the cloth beam that grabs and moves the finished cloth.

They wrap sandpaper around the beam's adhesive surface to grab the cloth without damaging it.

Elsewhere, workers make the loom's cables out of high-strength stainless steel.

These cables maneuver harnesses that lift and lower the warp threads.

After cutting each cable to length, she forms a loop through a cable crimp.

Then she locks the loop with this heavy-duty crimping tool.

On one of the frame pieces, they mount a metal plate bearing the loom's model and serial numbers.

They assemble the pulley system on which the harness cables run.

They thread the plastic pulleys onto a steel axle and position the axle with steel disks called stop collars.

A spring lever helps each harness lift its respective warp thread.

After hammering a pin into each lever, they hook a wire to the pin, then squeeze the wire closed so that it can't unhook.

They attach a chain to an eyelet on one side of the spring lever.

Shortening or lengthening this chain adjusts the tension of the harness.

Like the pulleys, the spring levers go onto an axle across the loom's frame.

Another loom component, called the warp beam, has holes which hold metal hoops that guide the warp threads.

A brake drum on the side provides counterforce to keep the threads taut.

At the front of the loom, they install foot pedals called treadles.

The weaver uses them to lift and lower the warp threads.

Next comes the beater, which the weaver uses to pack the weft thread into the fabric.

The pulley system for the harness cables goes on top.

This computer-controlled device, called a dobby head, lifts and lowers the warp threads according to the programmed weaving pattern.

Each harness cable hooks onto the dobby head, goes around one of the pulleys, and attaches to a hook on the harness.

The factory checks every dobby head on a test loom to ensure the device outputs the programmed patterns correctly.

Next, workers install the spring levers that help the harness lift the warp threads.

Each lever hooks onto a spring, which attaches to a chain, which connects to a harness.

They install the warp beam at the back of the loom.

The weaver installs the hoops and warp threads on the warp beam.

As the loom weaves, the cloth beam gently moves the emerging fabric forward.

The weft thread is wrapped around a bobbin called a shuttle.

This pattern requires a two-weft-thread technique that uses a second shuttle suspended in front of the weaver.

The loom keeps the threads evenly taut, producing a consistent and uniform weave-- the hallmarks of a beautiful, quality cloth.

Until the mid-19th century, mother nature was the only producer of ice, and the idea of man-made ice seemed preposterous.

It was a florida doctor who, in need of ice to cool feverish patients, invented the ice machine.

The technology took a few years to refine, and then they were ready to chill.

Today's commercial ice makers churn out ice on demand, allowing restaurants and other businesses to keep things cool at all times.

To make one, machinery folds the edges of stainless-steel sheets so they can be assembled into the icemaker frame and exterior panels.

Meanwhile, copper uncoils over a roller, which removes the curl from the metal.

A machine spiked with blades then punches the copper.

In one action, it cuts numerous slits in the strip and slices it to the correct length.

The notched strips are now ready to be assembled into a grid.

This grid is part of the evaporator.

It's here the liquid refrigerant will evaporate as it pulls heat from the water to freeze it into ice cubes.

This copper tubing is central to that process.

An automated arm bends it into a configuration called the serpentine, producing a coil that will fit on the back with the evaporator.

As liquid refrigerant moves through it, it will draw heat out of the water.

This machine flattens the tubing, giving it greater surface contact with the evaporator to facilitate heat transfer.

Then it's into a big washing machine to remove any oils or oxides on the parts.

A worker now applies strips of tin silver solder to the evaporator's back plate.

This acid solution will act as a bonding agent.

He then places the evaporator, solder side down, on the serpentine tubing and locks the assembled parts in an iron rig.

He hoists the rig into an oven to melt the solder strips between the back plate and tubing, fusing the parts together.

Then it's into an ultrasonic bath, where high-frequency sound waves clean off lingering contaminants.

An inspector now examines the evaporator to confirm that the parts have been solidly fused.

Next, he installs pipes on an icemaker's side panel.

These are the lines that supply refrigerant to the machine.

He turns the assembly around and removes the caps on the compressor to connect it to a network of pipes.

The compressor will force refrigerant through these pipes in a continuous cycle of heating and cooling to eventually produce ice.

He brazes the joints to seal the connections.

He attaches a fan to another side panel.

It will blow cool air onto the radiator to cool the refrigerant and help convert it back into a liquid.

Now he pumps the refrigerant into the system and measures the flow to ensure it receives a precise amount.

Meanwhile, at another station, they assemble the ice bin.

It's time to test this icemaker.

Water flows continuously over the surface of the evaporator grid as the temperature inside the cells drops below freezing.

Impurities, like minerals, are washed away as the water turns to ice, and the result is crystal-clear cubes, almost 6 1/2 pounds in just 15 minutes.

Finally, they install the front panel on the unit.

This job is done, and it's time for a little liquid refreshment...

On ice, of course.


LED Stage Lights
Apple Cider
Chemical Tank Trailers
Ornate Stone Floors

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

L.e.d. stage lights...

Apple cider...

Chemical tank trailers...

And ornate stone floors.

In the world of stage lighting, traditional incandescent or halogen bulb spotlights are making way for l.e.d.s.

L.e.d.s are light-emitting diodes controlled by electronics.

They use less energy, emit less heat, and can produce a wide array of colors without the use of filters.

Incandescent or halogen stage lights produce just one color.

The only way to create more is to shine the light beam through colored plastic called gel filters.

However, this l.e.d. stage light uses seven different colored l.e.d.s, which can be blended into a variety of different hues.

This computer-guided machine places all the components on the stage light's circuit board, which contains 60 l.e.d.s in 7 different base colors.

Another machine measures and cuts pieces of insulated electrical wire.

Then, the machine strips the insulation off the ends and crimps on terminals.

The machine processes up to 26 feet of wire per second.

Workers manually assemble 10 wires and two connectors into a control harness.

The harness will connect the light's control board to the l.e.d. array.

On the factory floor, they paint the stage light's two-part cast-aluminum housing.

The paint process is electrostatic.

This means the housing and the black powder paint are laced with opposing electrical charges.

This spreads the paint evenly over the housing.

Then, the housing goes through an oven, which bakes on the paint.

Back in the assembly area, workers install the stage light's electronic components, starting with the lcd screen.

It displays the current settings and modes and the menus for changing them.

After covering the screen with a protective plastic shield, they install the control panel.

It has an opening for the screen.

This plastic cover protects the lcd.

It also directs outside air into the housing to the light's cooling fan, which they now secure in place with this bracket.

The fan dissipates the heat the l.e.d.s generate.

This block of aluminum, called the heat sink, absorbs and quickly dissipates some of that heat.

They mount the l.e.d. array on top of this twofold cooling system.

Then, they install the optic assembly.

This plastic component focuses the individual l.e.d.s.

They construct the stage light's mixing tube, lining its interior with adhesive-backed aluminum mirrors.

The mirrors mix the seven l.e.d. colors into a single color.

The assemblers now join the two halves of the mixing tube, adding a glass lens on the front.

The lens focuses the light produced by the 60 l.e.d.s into a single beam.

Then, they install the tube over the optic.

Next, they mount the control card to the side of the mixing tube.

The control card is the stage light's onboard computer.

It processes the commands the lighting technician enters.

Commands can be entered from the control panel or remotely from a computer.

After installing the main power supply, they plug a dmx cable into the control card.

Dmx is the digital network through which the console or computer communicates to the stage light.

They join this completed unit to the rest of the housing, which has the dmx and power connectors.

This stage light is now finished and ready for a thorough quality control check.

They plug it into a testing machine, which powers it up and verifies several functions.

The machine also calibrates every color to ensure consistency in every stage light they manufacture.

Then, they run the stage light at full power for three hours nonstop to simulate strenuous operating conditions.

Once the light passes these tests, it's ready for its stage debut.

Apple cider is also known as sweet cider or soft cider.

It's darker and cloudier than conventional apple juice because tiny bits of apple are not filtered out.

These flavorful fragments are what makes this fall beverage unique.

When the apples on the trees are ripe, it's time to produce apple cider.

They process the apples within days of the harvest to produce a beverage that tastes both fresh and sweet.

It starts with the right mix of apples.

Some varieties are sweet, and others are tart.

This mix of flavors will spice things up.

The apples float to the surface of a water-filled pit and drift onto a conveyor that takes them into the cider mill.

Inside the mill, the apples spill into a washing station.

Water sprays the apples as they bounce across rolling brushes.

Next, the apples take a trip up to a grinder.

Inside, a steel arm pushes the apples against a grater.

It shreds them, pits and all, into a pulp.

This pulp is known as pomace.

The pomace lands in a funnel.

From here, a pump moves it through pipes across the plant, where it arrives at a press.

The apple pomace flows between two porous belts that wind around rollers.

The rollers apply pressure to squeeze out the juice.

The juice drips through holes in the belts.

The process strains out most of the pulp, but some remains as the juice spills from the press into large catch pans.

Then, they pump this chunky apple liquid into a holding tank.

From the tank, it flows through a revolving drum that filters out more pulp, pits, and apple stems.

The fluid seeps through the perforations in the drum and flows into a large trough.

After one more screening, only fine bits of apple and sediment remain.

This gives it the desired cider consistency and flavor.

The cider now flows into channels between hot steel plates.

The heat destroys pathogens and bacteria that would convert the natural sugars to alcohol.

This ensures that the cider is both safe to drink and nonalcoholic.

It's now ready for bottling.

A worker slides plastic jugs into position under nozzles.

The nozzles descend and pump the boiling-hot apple cider into the jugs.

They're filled to the brim so air can't get inside.

Air causes the cider to deteriorate.

Next, the conveyor moves the jugs forward to a capping station.

Plastic caps funnel toward the jugs as they approach.

The caps land on the rims with perfect timing.

Spinning wheels tighten the caps as the jugs ride by, hermetically sealing the hot apple cider, giving it a shelf life of approximately a year.

The jugs then head into a tunnel, where sprayers douse them with cold water.

Next, machinery pulls the liner off of adhesive-backed labels.

An electric eye detects the approaching jugs, queuing rollers to apply the labels.

The filtered-out pomace from earlier is cooked four to five hours.

This caramelizes the sugars in the apples, turning the pomace into a highly concentrated spread known as apple butter.

They bottle it while it's piping hot to preserve it.

Although not technically butter, this fruit spread has a similar consistency.

It takes a full day of processing to produce both apple butter and apple cider.

It's time to raise a glass and enjoy the sweet bounty of the harvest.

Chemical tank trailers roll down our highways every day.

They haul liquid chemicals for manufacturing and other needs.

Chemicals could be hazardous if released into the environment.

Making a chemical tank trailer is serious business.

Chemical tank trailers are built to ensure that a potentially harmful cargo arrives safely.

Their design is tightly regulated because safety is in everyone's best interest.

They build the chemical tank from scratch.

They start with a big sheet of heavy-duty stainless steel.

Pressurized rollers curl it into a cylinder that will become half of the tank's inner vessel.

Using a crane, they transfer the 20-foot-long rounded section to a welding station.

Here, an operator controls a semi-automatic welder with a joystick.

The welder joins the two sides of the sheet to complete the cylinder.

They bring two cylinders together to form a 40-foot-long inner vessel.

This seam is near the midpoint.

It will be subject to significant bending stress in transport.

It's critical that this weld is perfect.

The team caps the end with metal discs known as heads.

They tack-weld the heads to the vessel first and assure that the fit is exact.

Then, a semi-automatic welder does a permanent weld.

Next, they weld three long half pipes along the bottom, again doing tack welds first and then final welds.

The three pipes serve as a heating panel, keeping the chemical cargo at a liquid state.

This is important because, when some chemicals solidify, their purity is compromised.

The team slides the first of many metal rings onto the tank and clamps each ring to the shell.

These rings stiffen the structure and act as an exterior skeleton.

A worker does the initial tack welds.

Then, a semi-automatic welder makes the full welds.

After attaching a steel framework to the bottom, a crane transfers the inner vessel to the trailer.

A worker tucks insulation between the vessel and the trailer.

He secures the tank to the trailer with intermittent welds known as stitch welds.

Another member of the team wraps strips of rigid foam around the steel vessel.

He spaces the foam evenly apart and pulls them tightly against the vessel with metal strapping.

This creates compartments for fiberglass insulation.

He tucks the insulation into the spaces, blanketing the vessels so the chemical freight will stay warm and fluid.

The team now builds the outer shell.

They pull stainless steel sheets around the inner vessel using thick nylon ties.

These sheets are made of thinner steel than the kind used to construct the inner vessel.

They easily conform to the cylindrical shape.

A worker welds the sheets in place, completing the outer shell.

Once a manhole has been installed at the top, the crew builds a metal platform around it.

This platform allows a person to access the manhole without slipping or denting the outer shell of the tank.

A worker attaches a ladder to the tank.

It will be used for accessing the manhole.

Another member of the team connects l.e.d. taillights and inserts them in light boxes at the back of the trailer.

He secures the lights to the light box with screws.

It takes about five days to build a chemical tank trailer.

They last for 30 years or more, so this trailer should be good for the long haul.

Centuries-old churches and palaces have ornate stone floors that took craftsmen decades to create with chisels and other hand tools.

Today, factories can produce similar elaborate designs in a matter of hours thanks to computer-guided machinery.

These floor designs are so intricate, it's hard to believe that each component is an individually cut piece of marble, granite, or other natural stone.

Whether the design covers an entire floor, or it's a single decorative insert, the starting point is a stone slab.

It's massive but extremely thin, so it's actually quite fragile.

Workers use a pneumatic suction hoist to position the slab onto a cutting machine table.

The machine is entirely computer-guided.

It cuts with a jet of water.

The water contains particles of garnet, an extremely hard gemstone.

The jet cuts by eroding the stone rather than by sheer force, which would crack it.

Workers rinse away the stone grit and abrasive residue once the cutting is finished.

They use suction cups to remove the cut pieces one at a time.

They've cut squares for this design.

Some will go into the floor as-is, while others go onto a smaller water jet machine, which cuts them into intricate shapes.

Workers extract these smaller pieces with tweezers.

Every component of the design has a number.

Workers label the back of the corresponding piece accordingly.

Then, they print out a life-size version of the numbered design on a sheet of durable polyester film.

They tape it to the assembly table to serve as a template.

Then, they lay one piece at a time front side down onto the template.

Like a puzzle, the design slowly reveals itself.

Once the design is fully laid out, they tack the pieces together with glue.

This keeps them from shifting or separating.

They lay fiberglass mesh over the entire assembly.

Then, they prepare an epoxy resin specially formulated for stone setting...

And spread it evenly over the mesh.

They let it set overnight.

And the next day, they sand it flat.

The cut stone design is now bonded together in a solid unit.

Now, they can safely flip it face-up.

The final step is to fill the joints with epoxy grout then wash off any excess with a wet sponge.

This ornate cut-stone floor insert is finally finished.

This is just one of several components of a large, elaborate design.

Workers assemble them together to do a quality control check.

Then, they take the design apart and package each component separately for shipping.

Stone must always ship upright on its side because it can crack when transported horizontally.

However, the cut-stone floor will be sturdy enough to walk on once it's properly installed.

Just be careful not to bump into anything while you're admiring the art beneath your feet.


Pistons
Paint Rollers
Parachutes
Chimneys

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

Pistons...

Paint rollers...

Parachutes...

And chimneys.

Pistons are key to the internal combustion process that drives engines.

A piston is a plug that slides up and down inside each engine cylinder, compressing gas and air ignited by a spark plug.

The resulting energy turns the crankshaft and drives the engine.

This company makes 9,000 different types of pistons for everything from dirt bikes to car engines.

A piston starts out as a 10-foot-long aluminum rod.

Aluminum is ideal because it's a lightweight and rust-resistant metal that's easy to cut.

A rotary saw slices the rod into slugs, the length of which can be changed by adjusting the feeder machine to push the rod at different intervals.

This piston model requires 2.7-inch slugs.

The factory recycles excess aluminum shavings.

The punch press and die are preheated to 800 degrees fahrenheit, the temperature required to forge the slugs.

The slugs are brought to the same temperature in an oven.

The punch applies 2,000 tons of pressure to form it into the initial shape of the piston.

He dunks about 1 in 10 forgings in water to check for defects.

To make forging easier, they pre-lube the slugs before heating them.

That's why the slug flames up when struck by the press.

It only takes two seconds for the press to do its job, but the forgings are so hot, they need at least an hour to cool before the next step.

Workers heat the forgings twice more, the first time at very high heat to strengthen the metal, the second time at a lower heat to stabilize it.

Now they insert each slug in a lathe to give the forging the correct shape for machines that handle it later.

These small holes allow oil to flow through to lubricate the piston when it's in use.

Another lathe reduces the diameter by an 1/8 of an inch.

The same machine then cuts three grooves, two for compression rings and another for an oil-control ring.

These rings help the piston glide and enable it to provide an airtight seal.

This hole is for the wrist pin that will attach the piston to a connecting rod.

A milling machine then shaves off up to 3/4 of an inch of metal from two sides of the piston to reduce the overall weight.

The white liquid is lubricant to cool the area during cutting.

Another milling machine cuts away part of what they call the dome.

This way it will clear other parts when moving inside the cylinder.

The pistons must be just the right shape and size.

Some of them move up and down as much as 6,000 times per minute when the engine is running.

Next, a lathe shaves a hair width more of the metal from the outside.

This cut enables the piston to expand slightly when heat builds up inside the cylinder.

An automated drill makes two intersecting oil-drain holes to enhance lubrication of the wrist pin.

Another machine now engraves model and production data.

Here, a worker removes sharp edges created during previous operations.

He then uses a belt sander to further smooth out the surface.

Sharp edges could damage cylinder walls.

This cutting machine shaves off a bit of metal inside the pinhole so the wrist pin will fit snugly inside.

Once the cutting is complete, high-pressure jets spray the pistons with hot, deionized water.

This cleaning removes all traces of lubricant and oil.

After a blow-dry with an air gun, the pistons are ready to be installed.

Norman breakey, a canadian, invented the paint roller in 1940.

It revolutionized painting, but breakey never got rich because he lacked the financial means to defend his patent.

Over the next 60-odd years, the paint roller, with its replaceable cylindrical refill, became the primary painting tool, alongside the paintbrush.

The refill is a tube covered in fabric made from either polyester fiber or lint-free acrylic and nylon fiber.

Regardless of fabric, all refills are made the same way.

The fabric is processed into a 2.8-inch-wide strip.

It goes into a machine called an automatic tube winder.

It first applies epoxy glue to the surface of pvc plastic tubes.

As the tension bar pulls the fabric strip taut, the machine winds the fabric around a tube.

An air jet pushes aside the wound fabric to avoid bumps as more is applied.

Once the tube is covered with fabric, the machine simultaneously wraps the end and the start of the next tube in masking tape.

Once the glue has dried for eight hours, the tubes enter a machine that cuts them into several refills.

The tube spins as it passes, so one small cut is enough to sever it.

One tube produces 9 7 1/2-inch-long refills or 7 9 1/2-inch-long refills, the two standard sizes on the market.

The next machine first runs a wire brush against the fabric.

This lifts and fluffs the pile...

Then makes a beveled edge on each end.

To fluff the fabric further, a high-speed spin at 3,500 rpm.

During all these operations, a vacuum sucks away loose fibers.

Meanwhile, the paint-roller handles take shape.

An injection molding machine shoots molten plastic into handle-shaped cavities.

A built-in cooling system hardens the plastic within seconds.

The handles are made of polypropylene, a semi-tough thermoplastic, and some colored polyethylene, a lightweight thermoplastic.

Now that the handles and refills are made, it's just a matter of assembling them.

These plastic bearings hold the components together.

The assembly is entirely automated.

The bottom bearing goes on first.

It rests against the part called the shoulder.

Next, the refill.

The bottom bearing slots right into the open end of the tube.

Now the top bearing goes on.

A metal clip locks the bearings and roller in place.

And, voilà, a three-inch roller for painting windows and trims.

This factory also makes disposable plastic paint trays and tray liners.

They're made of polyethylene terephthalate, p.e.t. for short, a type of plastic that's strong yet flexible.

This thermoform machine heats a p.e.t. sheet, then vacuums it into a tray-shaped mold.

Fans cool and harden the plastic.

This heat mold-and-cool cycle takes just 30 to 50 seconds, depending on the tray thickness.

The molded sheets go into a cutter.

It excises the tray in one slice.

The factory grinds up the leftover plastic and sends it back to the supplier for recycling.

This factory also makes roller refills for applying solvents.

Instead of pvc, the tube inside is made of a tougher material, either a chemically strengthened cardboard or a polypropylene.

Daredevils have parachuted from cliffs or towers for centuries.

When airplanes first took off, so did parachutes as the best escape.

Today's aerodynamic, lightweight chutes enable cargo and people to descend safely and land right on target.

This company makes military parachutes.

Each one has a 30-foot wingspan and carries up to 440 pounds.

Making the chute's canopy starts with a rugged woven nylon fabric with nylon ribbing.

This light table lets a worker detect any flaws in the fabric.

The alignment between the ribbing must be consistent, spaced no more than 1.5 inches apart.

They test the strength of the fabric by pulling the material until it rips.

To pass, the fabric must withstand a minimum of 44 pounds of pulling force.

A laser cuts out the parachute parts, 30 to 100 of them, depending on the model.

A vacuum system stabilizes the fabric by sucking it to the table during cutting.

The fabric is usually silver-colored to blend in against the daytime sky.

A seamstress now sews on nylon tape to attach the parts and reinforce the seams.

Some panels have holes about the size of a dinner plate to funnel air between the two layers of the canopy and keep it rigid during flight.

Once they finish sewing, workers meticulously inspect the stitching.

Every inch of stitching must have between 7 and 10 stitches.

If the stitching is too close or too far apart, the fabric could rip, and that's the last thing you want when your chute is descending at a rate of up to 13 feet per second.

So they mark any problem spots with a red ribbon and resew them.

Here, a worker sews nylon tape to reinforce an area called a flare, which is a triangular patch of nylon reinforced with silicone coating.

She loops the tape at one of the flare's points to later insert what's called a suspension line.

The 60 lines link the 60 flares on the canopy to the jumper's harness.

To reinforce each flare, she sews 42 zigzag stitches in a 1-inch area.

The nylon suspension line arrives on spools, so workers use this machine to stretch it straight.

A worker marks off up to 14 1/2 feet per line and cuts it on an angle to reduce fraying.

Workers later sew the ends into loops so they can attach each one to the loop on the flares.

A worker makes a lark's head knot in each line and ties it to a flare.

This type of knot is easy to undo if a line needs replacing.

Connecting the 60 lines to the canopy's 60 flares takes about two hours.

Only after all these knots are secure can they pack the chute into the backpack and ship it to the customer.

The nylon backpack has two identical parachutes, the main chute and a reserve.

This worker is sewing the panels that will encase the reserve chute.

Extra stitching reinforces the strap connecting the steel buckle, which fastens an extra pack for up to 100 pounds.

It's critical to strictly follow the company's instructions when packing the chute.

You roll the ends, then fold the rest into layers.

Before each jump, you have to untangle the lines and check for any tears from the previous jump.

Then you insert the lines and canopy into the pack.

You pull on this red nylon handle to deploy the main chute.

The yellow handle is for the reserve chute.

There are straps over the shoulders, chest, belly, and legs.

And three buckles attach the harness to the jumper.

Your home's chimney vents hot gases or smoke from your fireplace to the outside.

Some types also channel air to the fire to keep it burning.

Although the concept's very old, today's chimneys have come a long way.

They're energy-efficient and modular, so you can easily assemble them yourself.

This company makes chimneys for gas-fired and wood-burning fireplaces.

A chimney's inner chamber is called a flue.

For a wood-burning fireplace, they make the flue from stainless steel.

Workers unwind a sheet, then slice it to the size of the flue section they're making.

The sections are up to 10 inches wide and 4 feet long.

They assemble as many as they need to make a complete chimney.

Here, a worker folds the edges in opposite directions, which will enable them to interlock.

Rollers then curl the sheet into a cylinder.

The metal is only about as thick as four pieces of paper stacked together.

This keeps the chimney lightweight.

They weld together the top and bottom ends, and a roller flattens the welded seam.

They insert the bottom of the flue between two rollers.

They form a ridge to which a coupler will later attach.

They crimp the metal at the top so it can also hold a coupler.

To make top-end couplers, a die punches the shape from lubricated sheets of stainless steel.

A robotic arm then suctions out the coupler and places it onto another machine that cuts threads into the sides of it.

These threads enable the chimney sections to twist and lock together.

To attach the coupler, the worker mounts it on top of the flue.

A roller then pushes against the flue in the coupler.

This expands the metal and secures the pieces together.

Now to join the flue with the outer casing.

An eight-sided die pushes out against a coupler to attach it to the flue in the casing.

They insulate the chimney with shredded ceramic fiber that can withstand a temperature of up to 2,100 degrees fahrenheit.

Workers feed the fiber into a machine that packs it into the cavity between the flue and the casing.

The machine then moves the chimney to another station where it twists a coupler to the bottom end to close the cavity.

After a quick brushing to remove any fiber dust, a mechanical arm lifts the chimney and moves it to be boxed and shipped.

A gas-burning fireplace generates less heat and fewer corrosive gases, so the chimney flue is made of aluminum-coated steel and a casing of a zinc-aluminum alloy-- more-affordable materials, yet still well above safety standards.

The air space between the flue and casing provides the required insulation.

A worker places the flue inside an automated welder.

It fuses the edges with a laser that's as thin as a human hair.

This is called a butt laser weld because the machine butts the edges together and bonds them.

Next, an eight-sided die indents the section with three ridges.

A component will fit into these indentations later.

Here, a machine creates a star-shaped component called a spacer.

They use two of them to center the flue in the casing.

A worker installs one at each end of the flue.

He then inserts the flue into the casing and twists it to lock the spacers into the ridges.

This connects and aligns the chimney sections properly.

The tops of chimneys have steel rain caps.

They let smoke and gases vent but keep rain out, ensuring that where's there's smoke, there is indeed fire.


Compression & Extension Springs
Micro Drill Bits
Skiffs
Painted Glass Backsplashes

Compression and extension springs...

Micro drill bits...

Skiffs...

And painted glass backsplashes.

Coiled wire springs are designed to change shape when weight is added or removed.

Some coils, such as compression springs, are made to keep components apart.

Other types of coils, like extension springs, hold things together while the spring expands and contracts.

When a load is applied to a compression spring, it contracts, while an extension spring expands when pulled.

Compression and extension springs are made from steel wire.

The diameter and qualities of the wire varies, depending on the use of the spring.

Spooled onto a reel, the wire uncoils, pulled by rollers, which lead to a forming machine.

Guide rollers steer the wire, as does this aperture.

Multiple feed rollers push the wire towards computerized forming tools.

The rollers pause, while the tools do their work, and then resume to supply wire for the next spring.

Meanwhile, other rollers push the wire around a mandrel, where it's coiled into an extension spring.

A side-arm controls the diameter, while another tool cuts it to length.

The forming process has caused internal stresses.

To remove those stresses, the springs are heat-treated.

As the springs move out of the oven, they travel through a cooling chamber.

The heating and controlled cooling improves the physical properties, allowing the springs to withstand repeated compression.

With internal stresses relieved, it's time to work on the outer surface of the steel springs.

A rack conveyer dips extension springs into a vat of water-based paint.

The paint seeps into the crevices of the coils, providing even paint coverage.

Then the rack conveyer takes the painted springs on a ten-minute loop through an oven.

This step bakes the paint onto the steel, providing a corrosion-resistant finish.

This is what the springs look like before and after painting.

These truck suspension springs are made differently.

A machinist heats the end of a steel rod in a furnace, inserting it between forming tools to taper it.

This taper will allow the completed spring to sit upright.

Next, the entire rod goes into a 1,796-degree furnace.

Once the rod in red-hot and malleable, it exits the furnace and is transferred to the forming mandrel.

The mandrel spins to wind the soft, steel wire, transforming the straight steel rod into a spring.

The spring is placed in a bucket and lifted to an oil bath.

The bath quenches and hardens the steel.

Then the spring travels through a furnace.

The heat burns off quenching oil residue.

A technician inserts the compression springs in a revolving fixture, allowing the ends of the springs to extend outward.

As the fixture revolves, grinding wheels remove material to flatten the exposed ends.

This flattened profile is another way to ensure that the springs will sit upright.

Once complete, the technician measures the height of the spring to confirm that the correct amount of material has been ground off.

The grinding has made a substantial difference.

The next machine removes surface flaws.

An operator places the spring inside the machine.

As the spring spins, a fine, abrasive steel shot sands away imperfections.

You can see the difference this step makes in the spring on the right.

The exposure to heat has made the steel wire more flexible.

A technician places the wire in a press machine and sets the compression and height.

The press squeezes the coils until the desired amount of compression is achieved.

After the spring has been painted, the company name and model information is stamped onto the springs.

It takes two hours to make a spring, and now it's finally ready for some flex time.

Thousands of years ago, our earliest ancestors might have picked up a pointed rock and spun it between their hands to bore a hole in something they wanted to modify.

Today, you can buy drill bits in all shapes and sizes.

Drill bits are often associated with carpentry, but from electronics to surgery tooling, there are all kinds of fields that require ultra-thin, high-performance drill bits.

The production process begins with lengths of 100% carbide called blanks.

A diamond grinding wheel lubricated with a specialized cutting liquid is applied to a chamfered edge on one tip of the blank.

This step removes the rough edges left when the blanks were cut down to size.

A vibrating device organizes the blanks inside a rotating bowl.

The vibrating action shifts the blanks into single file so they can proceed one-by-one to the next step.

This machine is called a centerless grinder.

The blanks move between two rotating drums, which grinds them down to a specified length.

The blanks pour out of the machine immersed in the lubricating fluid.

An operator selects one and places it in a quality control gauge to check that it meets the manufacturer's required tolerances.

The blanks now enter a cnc rollomatic.

An operator sets up the tool and programs its work process.

A robotic auto-feeder picks up the blanks one-by-one from a specialized palette.

The robotic arms places each blank carefully and precisely in a waiting chuck, or collar, and then moves them back into position.

The tool moves forward, holding the blank perfectly still as a pair of wheels close in.

Liquid coolant pours over the blank as the wheels precision pinch-grind the tip of the blank, grinding it down to about 1/10 of a millimeter-- the width of a human hair.

It's a delicate process.

The rollomatic produces 48 pieces per hour.

Next, a technician places small sheets of plastic foil in a jig.

The foil is shim stock, color-coded according to its thickness.

The jig raises the metal support to a specified height.

When the blank advances over the support, a mark left in the blue ink determines whether the metal blank is centered.

Once complete, a technician uses a magnifying tool to fine-tune the placement of the blank and ensure that it's perfectly centered.

This process can take four to five hours.

The blank is finally ready for the crucial fluting process that will transform it from a cylindrical length of carbide with a narrow tip into a micro drill bit.

After hours of preparation, this operation takes just a few seconds.

An industrial grinding diamond wheel has sliced a microscopic groove at a precise angle.

The technician inserts the bit, sharp-end first, into a precision machining device.

A steel bushing with a brass insert holds the tip of the bit in place as a cutting wheel slices an angled point.

It's impossible to see the difference between a bit before and after fluting.

Using a magnifying device, the technician conducts a quality control check of the bit.

As the screen reveals the finely-cut flute, the technician ensures the tool's parameters meet manufacturing standards.

Once such parameter has to do with the shape of the flute, which has a forward taper.

This means the flue groove becomes shallower from tip to base at a very precise angle.

This feature simultaneously strengthens the tool while increasing the chip flow along the groove.

Although carbide is incredibly strong, when it's milled to the thickness of a human hair, it becomes fragile.

Needless to say, careful packaging is extremely important.

A skiff is a lightweight motorboat designed for use on shallow water.

Unlike most boats that have a v-shaped hull, a skiff's hull is relatively flat, allowing it to sit high above the water.

This type of boat is known as a poling skiff.

It's designed with a platform set over the engine, which provides fishermen a ledge to stand on while moving the boat along with a pole.

A technician cleans the hull mold and coats it with a release agent, then sprays on a gel coating.

The gel coating forms the glossy outer layer of the boat.

Then the technician measures the gel coat layer with a mill gauge and leaves it to harden for about an hour.

Computer-guided machines cut pieces for the hull, deck, and cockpit floor from four different materials-- woven fiberglass mat, rigid pvc sheet-foam, kevlar-- a high-strength, heat-resistant synthetic fabric-- and stiffer kevlar reinforced with carbon fiber.

Chopped fiberglass saturated with resin is applied onto the gel coat.

With spray-glue, a technician adheres a layer of carbon kevlar, fiberglass, foam, and a second layer of kevlar to the base.

These layered materials create a mold for the boat's deck and cockpit floor.

The flat squares are aluminum-retention plates, where components will be screwed down.

Raised squares are where openings will be cut out for storage compartments.

Each mold is bagged and connected with hoses to a vacuum-infusion system.

The vacuum compresses the layers to 2/3 their original thickness, then the system draws a specialized resin through the materials, which will bond them into a single unit.

The system removes all excess resin so that the ratio of resin to materials creates maximum strength with minimal weight.

Next, another technician assembles the boat's wiring into a unit known as a wiring harness.

He winds the individual wires around a schematic that's custom-designed for this specific boat.

He attaches connectors on the ends that fit into water-tight plugs.

Every wire is labeled for easy identification.

Once the resin has fully cured, the plastic vacuum bag is removed from each mold.

A technician knocks wedges under the flange that formed around the perimeter, and thanks to the release agent, a team can easily lift the flange out of the mold.

The flange is trimmed, and the openings are cut with a diamond saw, which leaves clean, straight edges.

Next, a team begins assembling the boat.

First, they apply adhesive to the hull to prepare the cockpit floor for attachment.

Once the cockpit's in place, white pvc tubes are installed for storing fishing rods under the deck.

Then the wiring harness is installed.

The aluminum fuel tank is mounted in the bow.

These components are made of strong, lightweight materials.

A technician places screws into the metal retention plates that were molded into the structure.

Next, the wiring harness is attached to water-tight plugs connected to the electrically-powered components.

After installing plumbing lines for the aerated live bait compartment, team members glue the deck to the hull.

The lids are installed for the deck openings.

This one covers the forward storage compartment containing the fuel tank and the tubes for the fishing rods.

Next, the console helm is assembled, which is the nautical equivalent of a vehicle dashboard.

Onto the helm, a technician installs the steering wheel, the engine gauge, the panel containing the ignition and switches for electrical components, and the throttle, which controls speed.

Then, two technicians bolt the outboard motor onto the engine mount at the stern.

While this skiff is built with a square stern and pointed bow, its sides are flat.

This enables the boat to move quietly through the water.

Next, technicians mount the poling platform over the engine, securing it with glue and screws.

Finally, a technician installs the finishing touches, and the skiff is ready for launch.

Due to its low profile and light weight, this boat can operate in just mere inches of water.

Painted glass is an un-traditional backsplash choice specifically designed to look minimalistic.

Due to fewer grout lines, these painted panels are also easier to clean so that when grease splatters, the backsplash can be wiped down quickly.

These panels are painted on the back so the neutral color shows through the front side.

Since glass is reflective, this backsplash brings both subtle color and light into the kitchen.

Production starts with an automated loading system.

Suctioning grippers transfer the glass to the rails of a conveyer.

This is low-iron glass, a kind of glass with a very high clarity.

Once color is applied to the back, the color will appear more clearly on the front than regular glass.

For easy identification, a computerized system applies labels to each of the parts to be cut.

A diamond cutting tool scores the glass, mapping out backsplash panels and smaller pieces to be used for showroom samples.

Once complete, rollers move the glass sheet to the next station.

Two technicians snap the glass along the score lines.

This snapping action creates clean cuts, preventing the glass from shattering.

The snap action doesn't work for cuts within the panel.

Instead, a highly pressurized water jet mixed with garnet grit cuts through the glass.

The cutting device makes holes for electrical switch plates and for mounting hardware.

With the cutting done, a technician rinses the residual grit.

The sharp edges are profiled so the glass will be safer to handle.

As this display model demonstrates, there are several choices.

Next, an operator loads the glass backsplash into a slotted conveyer, which transfers it to the edging machine.

Underneath the edging machine, there are a series of grinding and buffing wheels.

As the glass travels over the wheels, the edge of the glass will transform.

Once the machine is activated, the wheels spin, while lubricant flows over the glass.

The wheels profile and buff the edge of the glass that will be the top of the backsplash.

Next, the operator examines the edge to confirm that it's been contoured and that there aren't any imperfections.

Apart from making the glass safer to handle, the profiled edge will reduce the possibility of chipping and breakage.

At the next station, spinning brushes with soft bristles scrub the panel.

The process removes any dust or polishing grit to prepare it for the next steps.

Once out of the washing machine, the glass backsplash travels through a 1,299-degree oven.

The intense heat followed by a quick cooling tempers the glass to make it heat resistant.

Roller conveyers transfer the glass to the painting station.

A technician mixes the acrylic paint.

Since paint doesn't stick to glass on its own, a special adhesion-promoting chemical is added to the mixture.

The technician mixes the colorants into the white base according to the formula.

Specific amounts of red and yellow paint produce a brilliant orange hue.

Next, sprayers apply the paint evenly across the back of the panel as the glass moves along a conveyer.

Then the backsplash enters an infrared oven heated to 302 degrees fahrenheit.

The painted glass bakes in the oven for about four minutes.

Once heating is complete, a technician applies gray paint over the backside of the backsplash.

This coat won't affect the orange hue, but it will protect the backsplash from damage during transport and installation.

Neutral-colored backsplashes make a more subtle statement, while brightly-colored backsplashes can make a kitchen pop.


Fire Extinguishers
Doughnuts
Shock Absorbers
Banjos

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

Fire extinguishers...

Doughnuts...

Shock absorbers...

And banjos.

The first fire extinguisher on record was built in europe in the middle ages.

It worked like a giant syringe that squirted water at a fire.

The modern extinguisher uses compressed air as a propellant and douses the fire with flame-retardant liquid, powder, or foam.

Squeezing the lever opens a valve that releases compressed air.

The pressure then propels the chemical through the hose and out the nozzle.

Production of the release valve starts with cylindrical pieces of aluminum called blanks.

A carousel runs each one through 16 different machining stations.

At each stop, under a shower of lubricant, tools shape the blank for 6 1/2 seconds.

As each blank completes the circuit, it comes off the carousel.

From blank to valve in a minute and a quarter.

Now the fire extinguisher's aluminum handle is riveted onto the valve.

It pivots on a pin.

Next, an aluminum lever is riveted onto the handle.

This is the lever you squeeze to use the fire extinguisher.

Then comes the valve stem--  the valve's inner workings.

Workers simply place it inside, and an automated assembly machine does the rest.

It positions a spring over the stem to create resistance when you squeeze the lever.

Then comes a retainer to hold both the stem and spring in position.

Now workers slip on a plastic thimble to position the rubber "o" ring that goes on next.

The "o" ring acts as a seal between the valve and cylinder so nothing leaks out.

The siphon tube runs from the valve down into the cylinder.

The firefighting chemical goes up this tube, then out the nozzle.

The compressed air inside the cylinder is what propels the chemical.

This gauge shows if there's sufficient pressure for that to happen.

After coating the gauge's threaded stem with sealant to prevent leaks, a worker screws it onto the valve.

The valve unit is now fully assembled, tested, and ready for installation on top of the cylinder.

To attach it, the cylinder needs a threaded collar.

With the help of a press, a worker positions it.

The cylinder also needs a bottom.

The technique this factory uses to fuse the bottom and collar is called brazing.

It's similar to soldering but with a copper ring as a bonding metal.

After positioning a brazing ring at the base of the open cylinder, a steel bottom is pressed into place.

Then workers position a brazing ring over the collar.

Now into a brazing furnace for an hour and 45 minutes.

The 2,000-degree heat melts the two copper rings, boding the parts they connect.

Next stop, the static-paint booth, where workers apply a positive electrical charge to the paint particles and a negative charge to the cylinders.

This draws the paint onto the surface evenly.

Then it's into an oven for 45 minutes to bake the paint.

Once the cylinders cool, automated machinery fills them with a fire-extinguishing powder.

The main ingredient is a form of ammonia.

When it's sprayed on a fire, the heat melts the particles of powder, fusing them into an oxygen-blocking blanket that smothers the flames.

After the cylinders are filled, an automated machine screws a valve onto the collar of each one.

Now it's time to pressurize the cylinder.

The lever is squeezed to open the valve, enabling a compressor to fill the cylinder with air.

They keep filling until the air pressure reaches 13 bars, about six times the pressure in a car tire.

Next, workers screw on the nozzle and install a locking pin.

This immobilizes the lever so the extinguisher can't discharge accidentally.

As the instruction sticker says, in case of fire, you just pull the pin, aim, and spray.

This mounting bracket lets you hang the fire extinguisher in an accessible spot so it's close at hand if you need it.

When we return, frying up one of america's favorite treats.

Doughnuts used to be called oily cakes because they were deep fried in pork fat.

When dutch pilgrims first brought them to america, they were ball-shaped.

But then someone found that removing a nut of dough from the center helped them cook far more evenly.

And so the doughnut was born.

In the world of doughnuts, there are two basic types-- yeast doughnuts and cake doughnuts.

The batter for cake doughnuts drops from the mixer right into boiling vegetable oil.

The nozzles shape the dough as it passes.

The doughnuts fry for about a minute and a half.

Then a conveyor carries them out of the vat to cool.

Yeast doughnuts require more time to make.

A high-speed mixer works the yeast dough, then workers pull it off the machine into bins.

From there, it goes into a hopper that extrudes the dough as a sheet.

Then it's on to another conveyor belt where a series of rollers flatten the dough sheet to just 3/4 of an inch thick.

The sheet passes under a shower of cinnamon...

Then hits a rotating cylinder that rolls it into a log.

A small metal rod sprinkles the dough with water.

This keeps it sticky enough to hold its shape while going under another flattening roller.

A dusting of cornstarch keeps the dough from sticking to the blade that now cuts it into pieces.

A retractable arm drops the blocks of dough four at a time onto wire-mesh trays.

Then it's off to the proofer, a machine much like a large bread box in which heat and humidity help the yeast dough rise.

This leavening process takes about 20 minutes, during which time the trays--  over 300 of them-- go up and down and then out to the fryer.

A gate slows the doughnuts down just before the drop so they slide in without splashing hot oil.

Gas burners keep the oil at a constant boil.

Anything less and the doughnuts would come out partly raw.

Halfway through, they get a flip so they'll cook evenly throughout.

After two minutes, the doughnuts leave the fryer and move through a curtain of sweet glaze.

A strong air current blows off the excess.

And these fry cakes are ready to eat.

They gradually cool as they spiral through the production area on their way to packaging.

Now let's see how they make doughnuts with filling.

A machine separates the yeast dough into little blobs, then sends them rolling down plastic tunnels.

This shapes them first into pucks, then into round dough balls.

Rollers then flatten the balls before they enter the proofer to rise.

There's cornstarch everywhere to prevent the dough from sticking to the machinery or to the conveyor belt.

Row after row of doughnuts fry in hot oil...

Then slide into a large drum that tumbles them around, covering them with a sugary coating.

Now it's time for the doughnuts to get filled.

These nozzles inject just the right amount of jelly.

Each worker fills 45 doughnuts a minute.

After filling, these doughnuts, known as bismarcks, are ready to go on to packaging.

They're just one of the many delicious varieties that this factory turns out on a daily basis.

Next, the shocking truth behind one of your car's most critical parts.

Shock absorbers do more than just smooth your ride.

They counteract the bounce when you hit a bump, holding your tires to the road.

Without that traction, you could lose control.

So by affecting steering, stopping, and stability, shocks are actually a vital safety component.

Wheel vibrations cause a piston inside the shock absorber to force oil through a valve.

This absorbs energy, reducing the vehicle's bounce.

All this happens within the shock's two tubes-- the reserve tube and, inside it, the pressure tube, housing the piston rod and compression valve.

Both of these tubes are made from a steel sheet sliced into strips.

Inside this tube mill, coolant prevents the passing strip from overheating as one forming roller after another gradually rounds it into a tube.

Then, a copper welding wheel fuses the tube closed.

As the 6-yard-long tube comes off the mill, a cutting tool chops it into shock-absorber lengths.

The tube-making process is the same for the reserve and pressure tubes, except that the reserve tubes undergo one extra step-- compressing the ends.

This enables the shock to house a larger reserve tube that can hold more oil.

The reserve tube's final stop is a press.

A die inside stamps the part number, the manufacturing date, and the brand name.

Many components are made of powdered metal-- mostly iron powder mixed with some graphite and copper.

After a press compacts the powder in a die, a furnace fuses the particles.

This powdered-metal part is the valve through which the piston forces the oil.

Steel discs and a spring help control the speed with which the valve operates for varying driving conditions.

A stamping tool crimps the end of the tube, holding the spring in position.

The valve, now fully assembled, seals the bottom of the pressure tube.

Meanwhile, a press punches round steel discs into other components.

These loops mount the shock absorber to the vehicle.

A worker positions a cup on each one, then a robot welds them together.

They insert a cup-and-mount unit on one end of the reserve tube, then weld it on.

This unit is called the base assembly.

The base assemblies now go on a conveyor, open end up so that workers can drop a pressure tube inside each one.

Automated injectors now fill the tubes with oil that's specially designed to maintain its consistency despite changes in temperature.

Next comes the head assembly, which includes the steel piston rod and the mount on the other end of the shock absorber.

Two copper welding wheels fuse the head assembly to the base assembly with a cap.

This closes the unit, sealing the oil inside.

Next, workers weld on a dirt shield-- a steel casing that prevents dirt from hindering the movement of the piston rod.

A piece called a bushing is pressed into each mount.

This helps tone down the vibrations coming from the vehicle.

Now it's on to an automated carousel.

Robots pierce a hole in each shock and inject nitrogen gas to prevent the oil inside from foaming.

After injection, the robot seals the hole by welding on a tiny steel ball.

And now for the finishing touch-- an electrostatic paint job.

A machine runs a positive electrical current through the shocks and a negative one through the paint particles.

Like a magnet, the static electricity draws the paint onto the shocks in a flawless coat.

In the factory's quality-control lab, technicians use sophisticated equipment to evaluate how well a shock dampens movement at different speeds.

The tube-and-valve configuration inside varies by vehicle, so the shocks on a ground-hugging sports car are quite different from those on a luxury sedan or on a light truck.

Coming up, a production line that comes with strings attached.

The twang of the banjo resonates in american country music and bluegrass, but this down-home sound actually has its roots in africa.

Slaves brought to america wanted something that sounded like the instruments from home, so they devised the banjo.

And the rest is music history.

to make a banjo, a lip is carved into wood that's been steamed and bent into a circular rim.

The rim is carefully measured.

It must be a perfect fit for this metal tone ring.

The wooden back of the banjo acts as a sound resonator, and some plastic trim gives it a more stylish look.

A chemical accelerator helps the glue dry so the plastic trim adheres almost instantly.

The surface is then sanded until the plastic is flush to the wood.

This long piece of wood will become the banjo's neck.

Using a table saw, an artisan cuts a long slot into the neck so that a metal adjusting rod can be installed later.

He widens the end of the neck with two pieces of wood to form the instrument's peg head.

Next comes some very delicate work, as tiny mother-of-pearl decorations are embedded in a piece of ebony.

That inlaid piece of ebony is then glued onto the banjo's peg head and clamped to dry.

Now it's over to a saw with 22 blades.

A long piece of ebony is passed over those blades to make the banjo's fret slots.

This is the banjo's fingerboard.

Once it's been adorned with more inlaid decorations, the fingerboard is glued onto the banjo neck.

Next, the edges of the banjo neck and peg head are trimmed down to size.

Using this router, artisans give the back and sides of the banjo neck smoother contours.

The rounded edges will make the instrument easier to hold and play.

They finalize the shape of the neck with a rasp, then give it a thorough sanding.

Here, metal frets are tapped into the slots on the fingerboard, and the overlap is trimmed.

Now it's time for a little color.

Stain is rubbed onto the banjo parts.

When the stain dries, it's followed by 12 coats of lacquer...

And finally, a thorough buffing.

Now all the pieces come together, beginning with the pre-fitted tone ring and wooden rim.

The plastic head through which the banjo's sound will radiate fits on the tone ring.

The head is secured with a tension hoop and a series of hooks.

Tightening these hooks will stretch the plastic head to adjust the instrument's tone.

The banjo neck and its peg head are attached and secured with metal rods.

The tuning pegs are screwed into the peg head.

Then the banjo's strings are attached and tightened.

This little wooden bridge sits on the plastic head and is only held in place by the tension of the strings.

Finally, the back of the banjo goes into place.

And now this finely crafted instrument is ready to strum away.


Native Healing Drums
Raisins
Stereoscopic Viewers
Ribbon Microphones

For thousands of years, aboriginal peoples have used drums to call on healing spirits.

But the sound of the drum itself can be a source of renewal.

The repetitive beat can induce a meditative state which may actually have healing properties.

today, a new generation beats the drum to heal body and spirit.

These young men are from the tewa tribe of northern new mexico.

Like their ancestors before them, they chant and drum in a rhythmic appeal to heal.

To make a healing drum, they start with pieces of pine or spruce-- soft woods that are lightweight.

The native craftsman creates an octagonal design and leaves the glue joints to dry.

The next craftsman soaks a cowhide in water to make it soft and pliable.

He drapes the wet hide over a drum frame and as he does, he looks for cuts or thin patches.

He arranges it so that any flaws aren't apparent.

He then trims the hide.

This particular drum is for powwows.

So it's extra large.

It's a two-sided version for a deeper tone.

He pulls the wet hide to the desired tension and punches holes in the skirting.

He hammers nails through the holes to tack the hide to the frame and cuts a scalloped edge.

He then tacks a hide to the other side.

He places another piece of wet rawhide on a spiral blade and pounds the hide into it using a hickory mallet.

This slices the leather into a long, thin lace.

He extracts the lace from the cutter.

After softening it with water, he takes it outside.

He wraps one end around a post and pulls, stretching the leather to remove slack.

It breaks at any weak points, leaving the strongest parts.

He now laces the leather drumheads to the frame.

He cuts a slit in the end and pulls the rest of the lace through the slit to knot it to the drumhead.

He zigzags the lacing through alternate holes in the the two drumhead hides.

He tugs the lace as he goes to pull the leather drumheads tightly to the frame.

Once complete, he knots the other end.

He threads the second piece of lace through the remaining holes, creating a crisscross pattern.

Paint applied to the frame early on shows through the crisscross weave.

The leather dries to a dark patina for a stunning contrast to the blue hue.

This double-sided drum is now ready for a powwow.

To make a single-sided healing drum, they bend a piece of wood into a complete circle.

A craftsperson signs and stamps the maker's information on the inside.

Then it's over to the drum maker.

She pulls a wet hide to the wooden hoop and folds it under the rim, smoothing out any puckers.

She punches holes for securing the drumhead to the wooden hoop and slices off the excess hide.

She's now ready to lace the drumhead to the frame.

She ties the skin to the frame in a configuration that looks like the spokes of a bicycle wheel.

She pulls it tightly for the desired tonality.

It's all in the technique.

If she doesn't get it right now, the wet drumhead will warp as it dries.

The leather spokes meet at the center in a cross where the drummer will grip it.

The leather darkens as it dries and the tension sets.

She now weaves strips of tanned leather around the cross at the center.

It's a decorative touch that also gives the drummer something more substantial to hold on to.

The drummer will hook a thumb in the cross section to hold the drum with an open hand.

An artist paints symbolic images on the native healing drum.

She works freestyle.

A few strokes of the brush produce a buffalo...

And then then an entire herd.

for native peoples of north america, the bison is a symbol of strength and unity.

A corn maiden painting on a drum represents abundance.

It's art designed to help one heal to the beat.

incredibly, people have been drying grapes to turn them into raisins for 2,000 years.

Today, there are potato chips and chocolate bars, but people are still snacking on raisins.

Preserved and sweetened by the drying process, they can still be enjoyed anytime, anywhere.

2,000 years on the snack circuit, and raisins still get plenty of nibbles.

They're also a popular ingredient in baked goods, cereals, and salads.

At this california vineyard, they plant grapevine cuttings in late winter.

They're the seedless kind.

These cuttings take three years to grow and bear fruit.

Each winter, they prune the vines, cutting away weaker canes and dead wood.

Pruning reduces the number of buds.

So the plant's energy goes to the ones that remain, resulting in larger fruit clusters.

They twist the remaining chutes around an overhead wire trellis and tie them to it.

Grapevines are natural climbers.

Securing them to the trellis positions them to grow in an arc for maximum sun exposure.

They pipe water between the rows.

It pools there and seeps into the soil and down to the roots of the vines.

These particular vines are growing on t-shaped trellises.

It's an older style of trellis.

When the grapes ripen, they cut the canes.

The fruit continues to hang there and it dries on the vines.

After 6 to 8 weeks, the grapes shrivel up and become raisins.

A harvester with comb-like teeth shakes the raisins from the vines.

They fall onto a conveyer, and a vacuum pulls out leaves and then shoots the raisins into bins.

On this particular harvester, the conveyer and the bins are on board.

The t-trellises require a different harvesting system, and the bins are outside in the next row.

Once full, a loader retrieves the bin, and then it's on its way to the packing plant.

Upon arrival, these raisins undergo extensive scrutiny.

An inspector from the u.s. department of agriculture looks for defects as the raisins bounce by on a shaker conveyer.

Technicians also test the moisture content and general quality of the fruit.

A vacuum removes twigs and stems.

They're lighter than the raisins and so they can be easily pulled out.

Here's a sample of the raisins as they arrive from the field.

And here they are with the plant debris removed.

They often store the raisins for weeks before further production.

And during this time, the raisins stick together and form clumps.

A revolving wheel with paddles now breaks up the clumps and separates the raisins.

They tumble off the conveyer and onto a perforated shaker table.

This separates any raisins which may still be clinging together.

Some cap stems remain.

These bits link the grapes to the vine stems.

The raisins now flow into cone-shaped machines that spin them to knock off the cap stems without damaging the raisins.

Once the raisins have been sorted by size, they travel under sprayers for a rinse, wash, and then another rinse.

They cruise by a laser that detects any missed cap stems or plant material.

A blast of air then gets rid of them.

Next, the raisins go into an inspection station and a worker picks out any material that may have been missed by the laser.

With her approval, the raisins are ready for packaging.

Suctioning devices grab and unfold snack-sized boxes and place them, lid up, on a high-speed conveyer or.

Raisins spill into the open snack boxes, and it's all a blur.

They fill 30,000 snack boxes an hour at this facility.

It takes about a year to grow and dry these raisins and just minutes to package them.

Stored in a cool, dry place, they will last a year-- unless someone eats them first.

Stereoscopic viewers date back to the 1840s.

Then, you had to manually insert one photograph at a time.

In 1939, a new type of viewer was introduced which used a reel of slides instead of printed photographs.

You advance from one to the next by pulling on a lever.

Early stereoscopic viewers gave people a way to see the world.

When viewers with reels came out, travel remained the focus.

You could visit a tourist site, then buy yourself a reel at the gift shop as a souvenir.

Today, 3-d viewers are also a business tool.

Companies use them as a creative way to market products or train employees.

And consumers now buy them as a novelty or gift, going online to order custom reels featuring their personal photographs.

Whatever the purpose, it's all about the pictures.

The manufacturer can use photos shot with a 3-d digital camera or with a standard digital camera.

The company's editor transfers the photographs to a computer and types a caption for each one.

If the photos were taken with the regular camera, he performs some computer magic.

He moves the image backwards, away from the viewer's eyes, then floats the text in the foreground closer to the viewer's eyes.

This little trick makes the photo appear to be 3-dimensional.

He puts two of each photo on a reel template.

You view one with each eye and your brain combines the two, creating 3-dimensional depth.

A photo and title in the center identify the reel.

Then the editor sends the assembled reel file to a photo processing lab and sets up the number of copies to be printed.

The photo processor's lasers print the photographs pixel by pixel on polyester film.

The machine prints a full sheet of 35 reels in exactly 1 minute and 14 seconds.

Then the sheet travels through a series of chemical baths and a dryer.

And 11 1/2 minutes later, the film is ready.

The editor carefully inspects every photo on every reel.

If everything's perfect, he feeds the film through a laminator.

The machine sandwiches the film between two sheets of transparent plastic then uses simultaneous pressure and heat to fuse everything together.

Encased in plastic, the floppy film is now rigid and three times thicker.

They now feed the laminated film into a hydraulic punching machine.

Its cookie-cutter type dies slice the perimeter of the reels, releasing them from the sheet.

The viewer itself is made up of injection-molded plastic.

A worker secures the front part in an assembly fixture then places plastic lenses in the eyeholes.

A machine then expands the plastic, locking in the lenses.

Preparing two viewers at a time now, he places a frosted plastic panel on the back part to diffuse the daylight or artificial light coming into the viewer.

An inner eyepiece goes over the diffuser, then this machine applies heat to fuse it in place.

Next, the lever you pull down to advance from photo to photo.

This spring returns it to the "up" position after each pull.

Now he mates the two parts of the viewer.

A high-pressure air press squeezes them together in a permanent bond.

The finishing touch--  a printing pad stamps the front of the viewer with the brand name.

Stereoscopic viewers have come a long way since their invention in the 1800s.

While still offering a dose of nostalgia, there's a new twist-- putting your very own photos on a reel as a unique gift or a fun way to relive those vacation memories.

The ribbon microphone was invented in the 1920s and first commercially produced in 1931.

It's called a ribbon microphone because inside, a thin aluminum ribbon positioned between two magnets converts sound waves into electrical signals.

Introduced in 1931, ribbon microphones revolutionized the broadcasting and audio recording industries with unprecedented sound quality.

This company manufactures a modern version of the rca-44, one of the first ribbon microphones.

This manufacturer handcrafts the microphone, starting with the frame, which holds all the components.

After cutting a flat piece of brass, the machinist makes two bends with a press, then drills threaded holes for the fasteners that will connect the frame to the rest of the microphone.

Then he puts the bar into another press that bends the two ends upward to form a u-shape.

The frame goes off to another department to be chrome-plated and polished.

Meanwhile, another machinist takes a sheet of perforated brass to begin forming the microphone's signature grille.

He secures it to a die with two mounting plates.

The die is the shape of one half of the multisided grille.

He mounts it onto a fly press, a press operated by rotating a heavy counterweight.

As that counterweight spins, the die descends into a forming mold that's also in the shape of half of the grille.

A high-speed automated cutter trims the perimeter to make a neat, even edge all around.

Then the grille halves are sent off to be chrome-plated and polished.

Next, a technician assembles the motor, the heart of the microphone.

First, he snaps on two strong magnets.

The gap between them is where he'll later insert the key component-- the thin aluminum ribbon which gives this type of microphone its name.

After aligning the top of the motor with the bottom, he attaches the frame, which has since acquired a custom-made transformer, electrical terminals, and side brackets.

Now for the all-important ribbon.

A technician crafts it from a hair-thin sheet of pure aluminum.

It's so fragile, he has to handle it with tweezers.

First, using the edge of a razor blade, he glues down the edges to a thin sheet of paper set on a glass cutting surface.

Then, he places a second sheet of paper on top and, with a razor blade, slices lengthwise, dividing it into 4 ribbons, each 2/10 of an inch wide.

When sound waves pass through the microphone, they cause minute differences in air pressure between the front and the back of the ribbon inside.

This causes the ribbon to move in response to the peaks and valleys of the sound wave.

The technician corrugates the ribbon so that it responds to this minute air-pressure changes more accurately.

He removes the protective papers and installs the ribbon in the motor, between the two magnets.

In this position, the moving ribbon is a conductor in a magnetic field, generating a tiny current-- an electrical replica of the sound wave that can recorded, amplified, or broadcasted.

A technician tests the ribbon's tension to ensure it's neither too tight nor too loose.

He hooks up the terminals to an audio signal generator and measures at what frequency the ribbon resonates.

If necessary, he tunes the ribbon by adjusting its tension.

He installs what's called a puff shield.

It prevents puffs of air from stretching or tearing the delicate ribbon.

A two-part metal housing will encase the lower part of the motor.

However, before assembling it, a technician glues on an embossed medal medallion bearing the company's logo.

Then he takes the motor, which by now has acquired an output cable, stands it upside down, and assembles the housing around it.

Then he turns it right-side up and assembles the two halves of the grille.

A sleek-looking chrome-plated band hides the joint.

He fastens the microphone to a u-shaped stand called a yoke.

On each side, there's a thumb nut, which you loosen to tilt the mic then tighten to lock the position.

Although newer technologies have emerged since, the classic ribbon microphone still remains a favorite of sound engineers around the world.