Skateboard Wheels
Baklava & Galactoboureko
CO2 Scrubbers
Honeycomb Candles

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

The invention of polyurethane skateboard wheels in the early 1970s suddenly made jumps and tight cornering possible because these wheels had a better grip on riding surfaces than the old metal or ceramic wheels.

They were more durable, and the shock absorption was greatly improved.

Skateboard wheels come in different sizes, hardness, colors and graphic designs.

For the rider, there are may practical and aesthetic considerations.

Making skateboard wheels starts with a computer design.

A designer uses the software to guide cutting tools.

The tools carve into a solid aluminum puck and transform it into one half of a wheel mold.

Next, the other half of the mold takes shape as the computerized tooling sculpts another puck to a profile that fits to the first one perfectly.

Not all of the skateboard wheel molds are two-part versions.

Others are one-piece structures, each with a pin in the center to form a bearing cavity.

A nozzle dispenses freshly mixed polyurethane liquid into the wheel molds.

The liquid starts to solidify immediately.

To complete the process, a worker loads the polyurethane-filled molds into an oven and bakes them at almost 240 degrees fahrenheit for 40 minutes.

During baking, any bubbles in the polyurethane rise to the top and are diffused, leaving solid forms with no weak spots.

Workers remove the pins from the molds.

Then it's on to the next station.

Here, a worker blasts compressed air between the wheels and the molds to pry the wheels free and pop them out.

Another worker probes the wheel using a durometer gauge to ensure the urethane has cured to the right degree of hardness.

If the sample wheel is sufficiently hard, the batch is ready for the next step.

The worker clamps the skateboard wheel in a lathe.

The lathe spins the wheel while an automatic cutter contours the edges to a softer, more rounded profile.

To give the skateboard wheels some visual impact, an artists selects and arranges graphic designs on a computer.

He prints a film negative of the images he's chosen.

A worker will use this negative to produce a printing plate from a piece of metal that's been coated with a light-sensitive substance known as emulsion.

He places the film negative on the plate inside a uv light chamber.

He closes the lid and activates the uv light.

This triggers a photochemical reaction that transfers the image from the negative to the plate.

The worker then applies a solution that removes unexposed emulsion and, in the process, etches the image into the printing plate.

He rinses off the chemicals.

Next, he dries the plate to reveal the etched artwork.

Another worker positions a magnetized ink cup overview the image and installs it in a pad printing machine.

An operator loads skateboard wheels onto posts that index them forward for printing.

The ink cup deposits ink on the printing plate.

A silicone pad picks up the inked image and stamps it onto the skateboard wheel.

The operator removes the printed wheel and sets it on a tray.

A technician now clamps one of the wheels in a testing device, which will gauge the rebound.

He drops a metal ball onto the wheel and measures how high it bounces or rebounds.

A high rebound is desirable.

These skateboard wheels are now cleared for shipping.

A worker wraps the wheels in plastic and heat shrinks it.

It takes about 3 days to make these skateboard wheels.

But how long they'll last depends a lot on the rider and how he or she rolls.

Galaktoboureko and baklava are traditional greek desserts.

Although several european and middle eastern countries have versions of baklava, most consist of filo pastry filled with nuts drenched in honey or syrup.

Galaktoboureko is filo filled with custard and coated with sweet syrup.

This variety of baklava called burma is made not with filo dough, like classic baklava, but with kataifi, shredded wheat dough.

Burma, like classic filo baklava, contains whole pistachios, never pistachio powder.

This burma chef pours granulated sugar over the pistachio kernels.

Next, he sprinkles rose water, although this ingredient is optional, then syrup made with sugar, water, cinnamon and nutmeg as well as lemon to prevent the sugar from later crystallizing.

He mixes by hand to thoroughly coat the kernels.

The kataifi is made of all-purpose flour, milk and water.

The chef lays out a section of dough, then takes a handful of pistachio filling and places it on the dough, forming a line running down the middle.

For a burma loaf this size, the filling is about an inch wide and high.

He folds the end closed and rolls the dough at an angle down the length of the burma, tightly encasing the filling as he goes.

At the end, he folds the opposite end closed.

It takes a burma chef months to perfect this technique.

He places it on a tray to air-dry for 24 hours to ensure the dough maintains its rolled shape.

Unlike classic baklava, which is baked, burma is fried.

And the risk of burning the pistachios makes this the most technically challenging type of baklava to make.

The chef fries the loaves for 3 minutes in oil heated to around 350 degrees fahrenheit, turning them once per minute.

He lets the oil drain off for half an hour.

Then, he pours warm caramelized sugar over the loaves and lets them soak for 20 minutes.

The sugar-to-water ratio and the boiling time of the caramelized sugar have to be just right.

Otherwise, it will become either too hard or to gooey when it cools.

After letting the excess drain off, the loaves rest for about 3 hours.

Then the chef rolls the loaf to flatten out the bumps and slices it into equal pieces.

But if there's a protracted battle waging between your sweet tooth and your willpower, you've got plenty of time to work your way through a box of burma because it stays fresh for 2 weeks.

To make galaktoboureko, the chef begins with two ingredients, milk and semolina.

After bringing the milk to a boil, he gradually adds the semolina while whisking and lowering the temperature.

Once the mix thickens, he sets it aside to cool.

In a separate bowl, the chef whisks eggs, adds vanilla, then lemon or orange rind.

Other options are orange blossom or rose water extract.

He transfers the ingredients to an electric mixer, adds butter and sugar.

Then he adds the semolina and milk mixture.

This mixture must be cool so that the eggs don't cook.

Once everything is thoroughly blended, the galaktoboureko custard is ready.

The chef now turns his attention to the filo dough.

He stacks 24 parchment-thin sheets of filo and slices them into squares.

He places one scoopful of custard in the center of each square.

The traditional greek way is to roll the squares or bake a large galaktoboureko in a pan and then cut it into squares.

However, this chef folds over each square to make lebanese-style triangles.

He douses the top with clarified butter, butter that's been boiled to separate out the solids and leave just the oil.

Then he bakes the pastries for 45 minutes at 325 degrees fahrenheit.

The golden-baked top shines thanks to the clarified butter.

The chef cooks the same syrup he made for the baklava, sugar, water, cinnamon, nutmeg and lemon and generously drizzles the mixture all over the galaktobourekos.

He sprinkles on cinnamon for traditional flavor and some crushed pistachios for decoration.

The annual apple harvest is just 2 months long.

To keep apples fresh in storage for several months, growers lower the storeroom oxygen level to put the apples into hibernation.

Then they use machines called co2 scrubbers to absorb and remove the carbon dioxide gas the apples give off.

This co2 scrubber pulls air from the airtight apple storage room through carbon pellets, which absorb the co2 gas molecules.

The machine then blows the co2-free air back into the room.

Workers build the machine's frame out of tubular steel.

The frame supports all the components, including two sealed vessels filled with carbon pellets.

The first vessel starts absorbing co2, a process called scrubbing, until its pellets are saturated.

Then the second vessel takes over the scrubbing.

The first vessel automatically kicks into a regeneration cycle, which blows fresh air through the pellets to remove the co2 molecules and exhaust them out the building.

When the second vessel's pellets max out, vessel one resumes scrubbing while vessel two regenerates.

To construct each vessel, workers weld a steel sheet into a circular shape, then weld on a base and a top ring.

The ring has holes along its perimeter for bolting on a lid.

They use a ring template to make corresponding holes in the lid, making the exact center of each hole with a punch tool.

Then a worker mounts the lid on a fixture and following those marks, uses an automated steel punch to perforate the steel.

The vessels go to the paint booth for a coat of powder paint, then into an oven to bake the paint.

When they come out, the vessels are ready to be filled with carbon pellets and sealed.

Once filled to the top, workers lay in a steel baffle.

Its holes evenly distribute air passing through the vessel.

A worker then places a foam rubber gasket around the perimeter and bolts on the lid tightly.

This seals the vessel and prevents the air being blown through it from leaking out.

The sealed lid also prevents oxygen from getting into the machine and from there into the apple storage room.

Next, workers install the pvc piping that feeds air through the vessels along with two blowers.

One blower pulls air from the apple storage room into the machine for scrubbing.

The other sends it back to the room after scrubbing.

The air flow through the pipes is controlled by valves, which are wired to the machine's electrical panel.

That electrical panel, consisting of relays, pumps, gas analyzers and a touch screen, is built in-house in accordance with the required electrical standards of the customer's country.

The panel is wired to a computer which controls the entire operation.

Then a worker installs an electrical box into the machine's frame.

And he installs the electrical panel inside the box.

Next, the worker connects the wires to the valves, installs the touch screen and hooks it up to the computer.

The touch screen lets the machine's operator program oxygen and co2 target levels specific to the type of apple stored in the room.

This is critical, as different varieties of apples give off more co2 than others.

How does it all work?

The grower stacks bins of apples in an airtight storeroom.

A nitrogen generator feeds in nitrogen to reduce the room's oxygen level to 1.8%.

When that happens, the nitrogen feed automatically stops, and the continuous co2 scrubbing automatically begins.

Many growers have in-house labs which conduct quality control tests on samples taken from each lot of scrubbed apples coming out of storage.

No apples would pass these tests after the 2-month harvest season if not for the co2 scrubbers.

Co2 scrubbers lengthen an apple's freshness by about 8 months, making it possible to bite into crispy apples year-round.

Honeycomb candles are glowing reminders of the cleverness of the honeybee.

These candles are embossed with a hexagonal pattern that mimics the cell structures bees build to store their honey.

And interestingly, these candles are actually made from the wax foundation sheets used for beekeepers' hive frames.

Honeycomb candles create a certain ambiance.

They shine brightly.

And the hexagonal pattern that's borrowed from the bees adds visual interest.

The candle makers start with beeswax that has had the impurities filtered out and has been bleached.

A worker first pours the beeswax into a big gas-heated kettle until it melts.

It only takes around 1/10 of an ounce of powdered dye to tint the big vat of wax.

He measures the amount carefully.

The worker adds the dye and, as it dissolves in the liquid beeswax, he stirs it to distribute it evenly.

He then opens a valve, and the wax flows into a trough beneath a large drum.

This drum is cooled by a system of chillers.

As it rotates, it picks up the wax.

And the wax solidifies on contact with the drum's cool surface.

The system then pulls the wax sheets through a narrow aperture to squeeze it thinner.

At this point, the consistency of the wax is similar to that of taffy.

But unlike taffy, it's not very sticky, so the layers don't adhere when rolled onto a shaft.

The next member of the team now prepares a bath of warm water and soap.

He then loosens up the coil of beeswax by hand.

The roll slackens.

The wax layers separate, leaving spaces between them.

He immerses the wax in warm water.

And it flows between the layers.

The warm water softens the edges as a thinning machine reduces the thickness of the wax by half.

Using blocks of ice, the operator then cools the softened wax to firm it up again.

He constantly adds liquid soap for lubrication.

This keeps the beeswax moving through the thinning machine and prevents snags.

Using a measuring instrument called a caliper, he gauges the thickness of the wax to confirm that it's 0.16 of a centimeter.

Next, the operator removes the roll of beeswax from the thinning machine spindle and transfers it to the spindle for the next machine.

This machine pulls the wax through a bath of icy water to firm it up even more.

This will top the wax from sticking to embossing rollers that now impress the hexagonal pattern onto it.

Each of the embossing rollers is studded with 3,500 hexagonal-shaped rivets.

They stamp the pattern onto both sides of the wax.

A blade slices the embossed beeswax into sheets that are 16 inches in length.

The sheets pass under another roller.

And this one propels them off the track.

The sheets are briefly airborne and then, they land in a neat stack.

To make them into candles, another member of the team cuts the sheets to the desired length and width.

The dimensions will vary depending on the size of the candles to be made.

Leftover remnants will be melted down to make new candles.

These beeswax sheets are now ready to be rolled by hand.

The candle maker places a cotton wick on one edge of the sheet.

She then wraps the wax around the wick, applying gentle pressure as she works.

She presses the layers firmly together because the tighter the roll, the longer the candle will burn.

At room temperature, the wax is warm, so the layers of the candle adhere.

Finally, she packages them in plastic cellophane and applies all the necessary labels.

These honeycomb beeswax candles are now ready to light up a space and help set the mood.

They should burn for 8 or 9 hours or until it's time to call it a night.


Stainless Steel
Football Helmets
Resin Figurines
Laboratory Glassware

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

Football helmets...

Resin figurines...

And laboratory glassware.

Stainless steel was invented in the early part of the 20th century.

The key ingredient is chrome, which forms a protective oxide film on the surface.

Originally called nonrusting steel, it amazed consumers because it didn't need to be polished and today, the concept hasn't lost its luster.

Stainless steel is made to look shiny and new even though it starts from scrap.

Old stainless steel is recycled to make new, giving trashed sinks, pots, and other refuse a new lease on life.

Tons of scrap steel are fed into a roaring furnace along with chrome and nickel alloys for added strength and rust-proofing.

Enormous electrodes heat the mix to the melting point, creating a dramatic fireworks display in the process.

After several hours, the molten mix goes into a refining furnace.

Pipes blast in argon gas and oxygen, converting some impurities to gas and causing others to float to the surface for easy removal.

A technician regularly checks the temperature and takes samples to make sure the chemistry is right.

A bit more scrap is added to bulk up the mixture as it melts.

The scrap also causes a chemical reaction that helps to fuel the refiner.

The bubbling steel soup now flows out of the refining furnace.

Rollers guide it as it's cast into a long mold.

The result is a 75-yard-long ribbon of steel.

Torches cut it into shorter chunks called slabs.

A worker writes identification information on each one using chalk designed for hot surfaces.

Then, the slabs are hoisted over to another station to await further processing.

After this break in production, the slabs are reheated to soften them up for more processing.

By now, a rusty scale has accumulated on the steel surface.

Workers pressure wash it away without cooling the hot metal.

The slab shoots back and forth through a machine with rollers.

A constant spray cools the rollers as they stretch the steel longer and thinner.

It's now over 650 yards long, the length of a couple of city blocks.

A spray of water cools the stretched steel a little, but not too much because it needs to be soft and flexible enough for coiling.

This spool coils the strip tightly like a roll of toilet paper.

Then, the roll is transferred to another station.

Here, the steel goes into a hot acid wash that removes the scale that's built up since the last cleaning.

Burners in this machine also heat the steel, then slowly cool it.

This relieves stress in the metal, softening it for further processing.

The steel is now unwound into a machine that rolls it to the customer's specified thickness.

Rolling the metal when it's cold also hardens it and closes its surface pores, making it shine.

After one last cleaning, the stainless steel strips are gleaming and the chrome in the steel combines with oxygen in the atmosphere to form that rust-preventing oxide film.

Finally, rotating knives trim the edges and slit the steel to various widths, again, to meet customer's specifications.

This job is now done, and it's a brilliant finish indeed.

Up next, meet the starting lineup at a football helmet factory.

Football helmets cushion the cranium, helping players score touchdowns without sustaining head injuries.

Helmets have been part of the sport for over a century.

First made of leather, then padded plastic, they keep the end zone from becoming a danger zone.

In a game of tackles and tumbles, a helmet is essential equipment.

To make one, plastic pellets are suctioned into a machine that melts and molds them into a dome shape.

This fist-like device shapes the inside of the shell, which hardens in just a matter of seconds.

A robot then collects it and transfers it to a conveyor.

It's quite a lineup.

The shells move into position for a trimming, and the extra plastic from the molding is clipped off.

Next, a robot drills up to nine holes in the shell.

The holes will be used to attach a liner, face guard, and various pieces of hardware.

This robot works far more quickly than a human can, performing all the drilling in just 30 seconds.

This is the ultimate in computerized precision.

A worker collects the drilled shell and moves a new one into position for the robot.

The outside of the helmet shell is roughed up with an orbital sander.

This preps it for priming and painting.

This factory uses a high-grade brand of automotive paint, and it takes three coats to make sure this paint job is rugged enough to survive a go on the gridiron.

The helmets cure in the open air for up to 18 hours.

During this time, a chemical reaction hardens the paint to a glossy finish.

Not every helmet is painted.

Some teams prefer tinted plastic.

It all depends on the look the team is going for.

Labels are attached, including safety information, trademark logos and the date of production.

This padding is made of vinyl and foam.

Workers snap it in place in the crown of the helmet.

The padding for the side and back is made of the same material.

The back is reinforced with a plastic bumper.

A helmet from each production run undergoes an impact test.

It's fitted on a head-shaped form equipped with sensors which are carefully calibrated.

The technician presses a button and the helmeted head falls.

This mimics the effect of a player's head hitting the ground during a tackle.

The computer then measures the force of the impact on the head.

Once the production run gets the okay, the face guard is attached.

It's made of plastic-coated steel and has been custom produced at a different factory.

There are dozens of face guard styles for the player to choose from.

This helmet is now looking pretty fierce.

But it's not ready for action yet.

It needs a chin strap and cup.

This machine uses heat to transfer a foil logo onto the polyester chin straps.

It also cuts them to the correct length.

Once a chin cup has been sewn to the strap, the assembly is loosely fastened to the helmet.

Later, it will be precisely fitted to the player's head.

This helmet is now almost ready for kickoff.

There's a final inspection and then they wrap it up, complete with the manual and fitting instructions.

It's taken less than a day to manufacture a football helmet that can withstand thousands of blows.

Because in the game of football, protection against head injury is a victory in itself.

When we return, bringing resin figurines to life.

Figurines are made of many materials, from porcelain to plaster to resin-- not the kind that comes from trees, but a synthetic resin, a kind of plastic.

It's affordable, lightweight, and easy to use, making it the material of choice for many artists and craftsmen.

Each figurine in this collection is cast from a mold of the original sculpture, then hand painted.

This character is a 19th-century federal marshal.

Working from period photographs of her subject, the artist makes a sketch she'll use as a model.

She needs plastic-based clay so it's easier to sculpt.

She works on the facial features, constantly referring to the photographs.

She usually starts with the figure's head and then adds it to the body.

She works from more photographs to create his rifle.

It's a delicate piece, so she sculpts it separately before setting it onto the figure.

Bearing the artist's signature, it's now ready for casting.

First, the sculpture bakes for 30 minutes at 275 degrees to harden.

Then, workers cover it with a thin layer of releasing agent so it won't stick to the production mold they're about to make.

They place a wall around the piece, tightly seal the base to prevent leaks, then pour in the silicone rubber mix.

In two days, the rubber hardens enough to hold the shape of the sculpture, but is still flexible enough that workers can remove the original artwork without damage.

After removing the retaining wall, suction is used to gently pull the piece from the mold which retains the sculpture's shape down to every last detail.

Now, figurine production can begin.

Workers fill the mold with a mixture of resin and flour made from ground pecan shells.

This colors the resin and makes it stronger.

The mixture sets in less than an hour and out comes the first of many figurines, an exact replica of the original artwork.

The base is sanded to level it.

Then, it's stamped with the figurine's name, i.d. number, and copyright information.

Resin is an ideal material for casting because it captures all the details of the original artwork.

It creates lightweight, durable reproductions that can be finished in a variety of ways.

Here the first artist coats the figurine's broad areas with acrylic paint.

Working color by color, she uses various brushes depending on the area she's painting.

She finishes up with the smaller details.

Then, she passes the figurine on to the next artist.

This second artist fills in the facial features and other fine details.

She starts with the whites of the eyes, then views the figurines from all angles to make sure she hasn't overlooked any tiny details.

Her fine brushwork on the facial features is what truly bring this figurine to life.

Bass reeves, u.s. marshal, is just one figurine in this series that proudly honors the contribution of african-americans in shaping the history of the united states.

Once marshal reeves passes inspection, workers wrap him up in protective bubble plastic.

Each piece in the series comes with a certificate of authenticity bearing the artist's signature as well as the name and life story of the person the figurine portrays.

Collecting this set of resin figurines isn't just for the knickknack lover.

This is indeed affordable art for the history buff, small-scale figures that pay a large-scale tribute to african-americans pioneers.

Coming up, behind the scenes of a real test-tube birth.

Their size, shape and function run the gamut, ranging from beakers and test tubes to petri dishes and vials.

Mixing, measuring, storing, or sampling is all in a day's work for a piece of laboratory glassware, built to withstand even the most potent of chemical concoctions.

Many scientific breakthroughs are born inside laboratory glassware, the containers scientists use to hold samples for chemical experiments.

The glassware starts off as thin glass tubing stacked by size, weight, length, and diameter.

Workers select the correct size for the culture tubes they're about to make and place them in a magazine.

As it spins, it drops a tube into each slot on a cutting bed.

Then comes the flame.

When the heated tubing contacts the wet steel blade, the thermal shock results in a clean separation of the glass.

The tubes get a second thermal shock treatment which cuts them to length.

Then it's on to the glazing bed.

A glazing burner shoots out 1,200-degree flames.

The heat melts each tube at one end, forming a lip called the glass bead.

Just two seconds of heat splits the tubes in half and forces the glass bottom of each tube to close in on itself.

The finishing fire smooths out the closure.

Then, a small amount of air is shot into the open end of the tube to form its round bottom.

Now, the tubes head into an annealing oven side by side.

They bake for about 15 minutes at 1,200 degrees.

This strengthens the glass so it will better resist cracking.

The heat also sterilizes the tubes.

Once the tubes cool, workers collect and pack them.

Here they're making pipettes, long tubes that labs use to transfer fluids.

A flame heats the glass to form an indentation which determines the flow rate through the pipette.

A wider flame then heats the glass, making it soft and malleable.

Large rollers tug at the sides, drawing the soft glass to form the pipette's tip.

Now, for the other end of the pipette.

Thermal shock is used to cut it to length and again, a glazing burner forms a glass bead along the rim.

A cutting wheel slices through the tip end, creating two tubes of identical length.

This production line makes vials.

These gizmos, called top turrets, feed large glass tubes into a machine.

First, a punch-out burner heats the end of the tube to create an opening.

Then, a steel pin widens the hole on the upper part of the vial.

A forming dye squeezes the heated glass to sculpt the shoulder while a steel plug rises from the bottom to open the vial even wider.

Then, a second forming dye shapes the neck.

Next, a parting burner splits the vial into two.

A bottom turret plucks the newly created half and draws out the soft glass to lengthen it.

Fingers inside the turret prevent the glass from breaking.

All that's left now is shaping the bottom of the vial.

A burner forms a concave base in less than a second.

The vials now slide down to what's called an after-former machine.

Here, suction cups lift and place each vial into metal grooves on a printer bed.

It's a basic silk-screening process with a squeegee pushing paint through the screen's holes onto the vial.

Grippers place the vials on a rack headed for the oven where they'll bake for about 20 minutes.

Finally, a robotic arm whisks the finished vials to packaging.

From there, it's off to a blood bank, a hospital, or chemistry class.


Handcrafted Skis
Septic Tanks
Hydroformed Chassis Parts
Aquarium Windows

You can buy mass-produced skis from a large company, or you could choose to purchase a handcrafted set from a small independent.

It's a matter of preference-- much like drinking beer produced by a major brewery versus a microbrewery.

In fact, many ski-buying guides call small, independent brands microbrews.

Handmade skis typically feature exclusive designs with high-end craftsmanship.

They're produced in limited quantities by small, independent companies.

This maker builds the core of the ski from two types of wood-- colorado aspen and colorado pine.

They're harvested from trees killed by pine beetles.

Workers glue together 8 to 10 pieces, depending on the width of the ski.

The pieces form a laminated block that's structurally stronger than a solid piece of wood.

They clamp the block in a press for two hours while the glue dries.

After they remove the block from the press, they use a band saw to cut off strips.

Each strip will be the core of a ski.

One block typically makes six ski cores.

Next, they shape the ski cores with a router, using a template underneath the ski contour.

They apply a blowtorch to strips of ultra-high molecular-weight plastic to make it bondable.

Then they coat the plastic with epoxy and adhere a strip of it to each side of the ski core.

This forms a sturdy sidewall to protect the core from side impact.

After the epoxy sets, they saw 6 inches off the front and back of the ski.

With a hand planer, they taper the thickness of the ends.

Then they heat the sidewalls again to prep them for bonding.

But first, workers glue a plastic core called a tipspacer to the front of the wood core.

This holds the parts together during construction.

Then they use a hand-crank die machine to die-cut the brand name and logo into a strip of ultra-high molecular-weight plastic.

They die-cut the same letters in white, then place them in the black cutout strip.

This is the ski's base.

Now they can begin constructing the skis.

They take a left and right base and spread epoxy over the entire surface.

They lay down a layer of epoxy-saturated fiberglass and position the ski core on top.

Then they spread epoxy on the core and tipspacers, as well as lay extra fiberglass where the bindings will be installed.

They position steel plates for mounting the bindings, then cover the entire ski with another layer of fiberglass.

Finally, they add a nylon top sheet printed with a graphic design.

They cover the assembly with a series of metal sheets and silicone heating blankets, then place everything in a custom-design ski press.

When workers activate the press, rubber air bladders inflate, pressing the wood into a ski shape.

35 minutes later, the skis come out of the press.

A worker separates them with a band saw.

Using a jigsaw, they trim the tip and tail.

The saw leaves a rough edge, so workers sand the entire perimeter.

Then they taper and bevel the sidewall.

This gives the skis a better edge grip on snow.

The final step is to peel off the film that has been protecting the nylon top throughout construction.

These handmade skis come in several different styles, shapes, and sizes.

All they need now are bindings.

Then it's all downhill from here.

Septic tanks are the perfect sewage-treatment solution for houses that aren't connected to a sewage network.

The tank collects and treats domestic wastewater using a bacterial process to decompose waste.

It filters the dirty water before recycling it back into the ground.

Septic tanks are usually made of concrete and have access covers on top.

The waste-treatment process takes place in separate chambers inside the tank.

Steel bars called rebars reinforce the concrete structure of the tank.

A welder assembles the rods to form a cage.

Then he spot-welds the rebar with a mig welding torch.

The welded cage will maintain the structural integrity of the concrete septic tank.

The welder measures the cage's diagonals to make sure it's straight.

Next, the worker places rebar spacers to keep the cage centered in the mold and leveled on the floor.

A crane lowers the cage into a custom formwork made of high-strength steel plates.

Workers close the walls around the form and secure them in place with heavy-duty locks.

The crane lowers machined steel cores to form the interior walls of the tank chambers.

A rigid plastic tube is inserted inside a rubber sleeve to create a flow hole between chambers.

Using an acetylene torch, a worker cuts holes in the rebar for access openings.

The mold allows concrete to flow over the rebar and embed the access-opening covers in the septic-tank lid.

Workers pour over 1,300 gallons of wet concrete into the mold.

They use a stick vibrator to eliminate air pockets and level the walls with a putty knife.

Next, they mix more concrete and pour it over the top-slab rebar.

Concrete blocks are used to keep the plastic covers from floating in the wet concrete.

While one worker pours the concrete in the mold, the other consolidates the mixture with a vibrating stick.

Then a worker levels the top of the slab with a trowel.

Once the concrete tank is cured, workers strip the forms.

They remove the concrete tank using an overhead crane and a compressed-air system, which forces the mold away from the concrete tank.

The crane takes the stripped core away for cleanup.

A worker brushes the top of the walls and sweeps the floor inside the tank.

Then he applies a butyl-rubber tape around the top of the exterior wall.

This forms a watertight seal between the tank and the lid.

An overhead crane lifts the lid out of the formwork and brings it to the tank mold.

The crane slowly lowers the lid onto the tank.

Workers keep it aligned to make sure it seals properly.

Then they label the tank to indicate its capacity.

Next, the mold is opened, revealing a finished septic tank.

The rubber sleeve molded into the wall ensures a watertight connection between the pipe carrying waste from the home and the tank.

This tank is now ready for delivery.

They set the tank in the ground at the client's home using a radio-remote-controlled knuckle-boom crane.

A septic tank like this will provide a three-bedroom house with a fully independent sewage system.

Building a vehicle begins with the chassis.

Chassis used to be made out of welded-steel parts that were very heavy and lowered fuel efficiency.

But thanks to a manufacturing process called hydroforming, steel chassis parts are now much lighter and stronger.

Years ago, this suspension-system component would have been made by stamping a number of parts out of heavy steel, then welding them together.

But today, the same component is made out of a single steel tube at a hydroforming plant.

A solid tube is stronger than welded parts, allowing the component to be made out of lighter steel.

The first step is to insert the steel tube in a computer-guided machine called a rotary draw bender.

The machine inserts a mandrel to prevent the tube walls from collapsing.

Then it bends the tube into a starting shape for the part.

This operation may look effortless, but the machine's hydraulics must generate nearly 9 tons of pressure to bend the steel.

After several bends, the part has its starting shape.

The hydroforming process begins when a robot places the tube in a press for preliminary shaping.

This is called preforming.

The press forces the tube against a die to prepare it for the hydroforming mold.

Here's the tube before preforming...

And after.

Next, a robot places the steel tube in a part mold that's already mounted on the hydroforming press.

The machine fills the tube with water and seals the ends to trap the liquid inside.

Then the machine closes the mold and raises the water pressure to 20,000 p.s.i.-- more than 600 times the air pressure in a car tire.

The high pressure softens the steel tube, allowing it to conform to the shape of the mold cavity.

When the press opens, a robot removes the now-fully-formed part from the mold.

The hydroforming press even punched holes in it for screws and bolts.

Next, a robot transfers the part to a circular saw, which cuts the component in half.

This creates mirror-image right and left suspension parts.

The saw left sharp edges on the ends of the part, so a worker smoothes them out with a handheld grinder.

Then they inspect the parts by putting them in a specially designed dimension-verification fixture.

They use tools called precise-diameter spheres to make sure the clearances between each part meet specifications.

If the parts pass inspection, they're shipped to the assembly plant.

There, workers position these parts and adjacent suspension parts in an assembly jig.

An automated machine welds them together.

Then a worker positions the next part and welds it to the rear-suspension unit.

He repeats this process until the entire assembly is complete.

To make the suspension unit corrosion-resistant, they apply a chemical coating which is bonded to the steel with an electrical charge.

Once the coating dries, automated machines insert bushings for parts that will be installed on the suspension later.

Bushings are rubber or polyurethane pieces that go in between two metal components to absorb shock and reduce noise.

Workers put the finished rear suspension into a shipping cradle for delivery to the auto plant.

At the plant, assembly-line workers install springs and shock absorbers.

They also mount struts, wheels, and brakes.

Then they install the entire unit on the vehicle.

Hydroforming allows auto manufacturers the ability to produce chassis parts in shapes impossible to achieve by the older method of stamping steel and reduces the weight of the car.

Acrylic aquarium windows are designed to be transparent.

But they also need to be virtually indestructible and able to hold back several hundred gallons of water.

Some of the largest ones are built to withstand repeated hits from sharks or other big fish that are swimming around inside the tank.

Acrylic aquarium windows can be molded into different shapes and sizes.

They can also be made to various thicknesses.

Round, flat, or just slightly curved, these windows are worth looking into, because they offer close-up views of aquatic ecosystems.

Each acrylic window starts with an engineer's design.

He takes into account the anticipated water volume and the type of marine life to be housed in the tank.

Next, a technician measures specific amounts of chemicals to be added to the acrylic.

Two are strengthening agents and another is a u.v.-light stabilizer to counteract the damaging effects of the sun's rays.

After the chemicals have been mixed with the binding agent, they add them to a small amount of acrylic.

This premix will be added to a much larger amount of acrylic later.

They blend in some dye to offset the yellowish tone that's common in acrylic.

The result is a homogenous mixture with a syrupy consistency.

Using a crane, they bring two halves of a steel mold together and place them on supports.

Once the walls of the mold are in place, they lock them together with bolts.

The final acrylic mixture is ready.

It now flows into the mold cavity.

A thermostat for heat coils located in the walls is activated.

They roll the mold into an autoclave.

The acrylic slowly bakes under pressure to ensure a consistent cure.

It takes five days for the acrylic to turn into a solid slab.

An employee monitors the temperature readings daily.

Once the acrylic cures, they slice a piece off and bend it with a hydraulic tool until it breaks.

If the piece can withstand 14,000 pounds per square inch without breaking, it passes the test.

At another station, they test the elasticity of the acrylic.

They do a few more compression tests to prove that the acrylic holds strong under heavy pressure.

After testing, they're ready to cut the acrylic slab.

Acrylic shrinks unevenly during the curing process, so they need to cut it to the desired size and shape afterwards.

As you can see, aquarium windows are a lot thicker than normal windows.

To make a contoured aquarium window, they lower a flat acrylic slab onto a curved molding bed.

Then they heat it in an oven for up to a month.

This causes the acrylic to soften and conform to the rounded shape of the molding bed.

Once again, they've made the slab oversized to account for the distortion and shrinkage that can occur during the curing process.

A worker cuts the curved slab to the engineer's specifications.

He cuts off big chunks.

They're so heavy that it takes three people to carry them away.

They test the optical clarity of each window.

To do this, a worker on one side of the window moves a grid pattern around while a worker on the other side scrutinizes the grid lines for distortion.

Satisfied that the aquarium window offers a clear view, they clean and polish it thoroughly.

They'll do a final clean after the window is installed on-site.

The time it takes to manufacture an aquarium window depends on the complexity of its design and the window's thickness.

Some can be produced in as little as four weeks.

No matter how long it takes, there's no doubt that the views will be well worth the wait.


Replica Foods
Traffic Cone Dispensers
Rocking Horses
London Taxis

This meal may look delicious, but it actually tastes like plastic.

This is fake food.

It's not for tasting--  it's for tempting.

Restaurants and food stores use these imitations to entice customers.

Fake food is also used as props in movies and tv because the camera loves it.

This fake food will keep that fresh-cooked look forever.

That means there will be no waste from the restaurant display case.

These authentic-looking fakes start out with the real thing.

In this case, it's a sea bass.

The worker blots up excess oil from the skin.

He then uses an adhesive to glue the fish to the base of a wooden box.

Next, he immerses the fish in liquid silicone.

24 hours later, after the silicone is set, he breaks open the box and removes the fish.

This detailed silicone negative can now be used to mold exact replicas of the original fish.

They preheat the mold until it's warm to the touch.

This kick-starts the curing of this liquid plastic, which they pour into the mold.

Once the mold is filled, they zap it in a microwave oven for 45 seconds.

It solidifies the plastic significantly, but it still needs a bit more curing, so the worker transfers it to a conveyor.

It carries the mold under a lamp, whose intense energy completes the curing of the plastic.

The worker now extracts the mold and plastic replica.

Spillover from the molding has created a few ragged edges, so he trims them with a pair of scissors...

Then grinds the edges to smooth away the rest.

He also uses the grinder to do some contouring.

Now for the real artistry.

The worker sprays silvery paint onto the plastic bass.

It gives the fish scales a lifelike, luminous texture.

A bit of dark-gray paint brings out the silvery undercoat.

Brown paint on the tail and fins make them look more realistic.

Using an artist's brush, he paints the eyes.

He brushes on fine lines that look like natural creases and adds some other typical sea-bass markings.

A coat of lacquer keeps the paint from chipping and makes the sea bass look moist.

Now the sea bass will always look like the catch of the day.

And unlike a real fish, it won't start to decompose.

At this faux-food factory, there are 3,500 molds.

Each one can be used hundreds of times and will produce an exact copy of the original every time.

For things like meat and potatoes, they add color to the liquid plastic before they do the molding.

This reduces the amount of painting they'll need to do later.

It takes some trial and error to get the pigments just right, but when they do, this fake meal looks good enough to eat.

They drizzle the beef and side dishes with gravy-colored glue that makes the fake food adhere to the plate.

Now that they've pulled this meal together, it should never come apart.

It takes a couple of days to produce all these dishes, but it should be worth it because, compared to real food, it will last forever.

Traffic cones create a necessary diversion.

They keep drivers away from dangerous situations.

But sending workers out onto the highway to set up those cones can be a perilous job.

Now there's an automated machine that both dispenses and collects cones to keep everyone out of harm's way.

The automated traffic cone dispenser goes where some might fear to tread-- the middle of the highway.

Its robotic arm swings back and forth for a speedy deployment of traffic cones.

To make one, workers slide three big metal disks onto a shaft and space them evenly apart.

They pull a string from disk to disk to confirm all three are aligned.

Once they're in place, a worker welds the disks to the shaft.

They reinforce this installation job with several braces, welding five to each disk at the point where it meets the shaft.

They spin the shaft and inspect the work.

Next, they install the tracks that will shuttle the traffic cones to the robotic arm.

They weld 13 of them to the disks.

The framework for the automatic traffic cone dispenser is now complete, so it's over to the paint booth.

They prime and paint it bright yellow, so it will be clearly visible on the highway.

Here, a technician then assembles the main control panel.

It's the brains behind the cone-dispensing robot.

The technician connects cables that deliver power to the motors.

He installs a series of switches and relays that will activate the motors that rotate the drum, swing the robotic arm, and deliver the traffic cones.

Finally, he tests the circuit breakers to confirm that all systems are go.

Down the production line, this worker attaches the gripper to the arm.

A pivot bolt allows the gripper to open and close, and this chain will keep it pointed downward, so it's always in position to deploy a traffic cone.

He tightens the turnbuckles and then checks the chain's tension.

He swings the arm to confirm that it and the gripper move freely.

Now he installs the transmission for the motor that will move this robotic arm.

Finally, he snaps a retainer ring onto the transmission shaft.

Two workers then carry a heavy extender mechanism over to the gripper arm and bolt the mechanism to it.

This extender will both support the arm and allow it to move easily from one side of the dispenser to the other.

A sensor device, called an encoder, will keep track of the gripper arm's position when it's moving.

The technician then installs the motor that will power the gripper arm to oscillate and deploy the traffic cones.

Once the gripper arm has been attached to the cone dispenser, they mount the whole unit on a trailer, with the main control box on the front.

They adjust the settings for traffic-cone deployment and put the machine through all its paces.

This test run ensures that all the parts are functioning properly.

A technician tweaks the machine's computer program to fine-tune the drop-off coordinates.

After all, releasing the cones too soon could cause them to topple.

Every automatic cone dispenser undergoes a road test on the open highway to confirm that it will perform in real conditions.

The driver activates it from the safety of the truck cab, while the robotic system is at center line, doing all the lifting and taking all the risks.

If they find a problem now, they'll send it back to the factory for modifications, but this machine handles the drop-offs and pickups with precision, and that means it's ready for traffic duty.

The ancestors of toy rocking horses may be the wooden horses on wheels of the middle ages, on which knights would practice their jousting skills.

Child-sized wooden horses on bow-shaped rockers emerged in england and germany in the 1700s, when queen victoria famously had dapple-gray rocking horses made for her children.

This rocking-horse company in the u.k. handcrafts antique reproductions and originals.

Some have traditional bow rockers, but most glide back and forth on a safety stand.

The horses are made of durable hardwoods, such as oak, maple, and tulipwood.

After cutting off knots and other defects, workers run each piece through a ripsaw, slicing off the rough and discolored wood directly under the bar.

Then they cut the pieces into 12-inch-wide blocks, and with a planer, slice off a thin layer of wood.

This makes the surfaces nice and smooth.

These are the blocks with which they'll construct the horse's main body.

To make the legs, an artisan lays a template on an as-yet-unplaned piece of wood and traces it.

Then he cuts along the trace line with a band saw and runs the leg through the planer.

Each leg has a protruding piece on top called a tenon that fits into a slot called a mortise beneath the main body.

To build the body, they roll glue onto the body blocks and assemble one to the other, building a large rectangular box with a hole at the center.

This hole reduces the horse's weight and relieves structural stress.

In some models, the hole also serves as a secret locking compartment.

After clamping the assembly and letting it set for 24 hours, they coat each leg tenon with glue and insert it into a mortise.

After rough-carving the body, a highly skilled craftsman outlines the head features in pencil-- cheekbones, nostrils, eyes, teeth.

Then he begins the meticulous task of carving the horse to completion, hitting a mallet against a u-shaped gouge.

This painstaking carving process takes 2 to 3 days.

Now, after inserting a glass eye, he rough-files the whole horse using a rasp to remove all the gouge marks.

This takes another few hours.

Then he smoothes the entire surface with an electric sander four times over, using progressively finer sandpapers.

He does the final sanding touch-ups by hand.

The wood is now ready to be either stained or painted to the customer's specifications.

If it's the latter, the artist first applies a coat of water-based primer, then, for this client's custom order, a coat of light-blue paint that turns gray when varnished.

Once the background color dries, he hand-stipples a pattern.

After the surface is varnished and waxed, he dresses the horse in a suede saddle blanket.

He uses brass tacks to affix it along the leather trim.

Next, he nails the leather saddle in place.

He squeezes globs of glue into a slot running down the horse's neck and inserts the mane, a weft of genuine horsehair.

Then he nails it in place.

Now he applies glue to the tail hole and fits a tail, also made of real horsehair.

Now they begin constructing the safety stand, on which the rocking horse will glide.

To make the posts, they turn cylindrical blocks of wood on a lathe.

Then they assemble the posts to the other parts of the stand and stain the wood.

They apply two coats of varnish and let the stand dry overnight.

They install the stand's stained and varnished gliders and mount the horse.

They drill a hole through each hoof and glider, then join them with a nut and bolt.

The gliders connect to the front and back of the frame with plated steel swing irons.

The angle at which the irons are set ensures a continuous smooth glide.

So even though these rocking horses are built to withstand the weight of two adults, riding them is child's play.

With curved lines and classic styling, the black cabs of london are internationally recognized as british icons.

Many say the london taxi system is the best in the world, and for many london visitors, a taxi ride is more than just transportation-- it's a tourist attraction unto itself.

The modern black cab was born in 1948.

Today, there are about 20,000 black cabs on the streets of london.

Because the taxi can easily be driven 30,000 miles each year, the cars need to be robust.

To start, operators position steel panels into a press that uses hydraulics and air pressure to fold them.

The press can apply up to 800 tons of force to fold and form each chassis component.

Once they get their 3-dimensional shape, the supple panels become stiff side rails.

Welders then assemble two side rail with a cruciform to create the chassis assembly.

They clamp the side rails firmly in place before welding them.

The taxi uses a 4-cylinder, direct-injection, turbodiesel engine that is hoisted in with the gearbox.

Then they connect the radiator hoses and pipes to the engine.

The axles, wheels, suspension, and exhaust system are now in place.

To build the components of the taxi's body, welders assemble sheet metal using a spot welder.

The device has two copper electrodes that clamp the sheets together and concentrate electric current into a small spot.

Forcing a large current through the spot melts the metal and forms the weld.

Now it's time to assemble the taxi's sides and floor.

Since the floor is completely flat and the roof is high, passengers with reduced mobility can easily enter and exit the taxi.

The body has been covered with an anticorrosion coat and a gray primer.

Before the car gets its final color, a worker inspects it for any surface damage.

Infrared lamps warm the body shell to 122 degrees fahrenheit to make paint application easier.

Not all london taxis are black.

They spray this one with yellow paint.

Later, they apply a shiny clear coat.

Each painted car moves to the polishing room.

The bright lights allow the technicians to check for any dirt, runs, dry spray, or other paint defects as they carefully polish the car.

A worker bolts the hire sign to the roof.

A rubber seal prevents water leaks.

They carry the front windshield with rubber suction pads and carefully put it in place.

They seal the rubber sides to ensure they are watertight.

The body is covered with plastic casing to protect it from damage as it's hoisted down onto the chassis.

Although these taxis are large and roomy, their mandatory 28-foot curb-to-curb turning circle allows them to easily perform u-turns.

A driver tests the car at different speeds, changing gears, and testing the a.b.s. brakes.

Each taxi also undergoes a water test.

They check for leaks through the glass and around the doors.

With an access ramp and fold-down seats, it's easy for wheelchairs to board the taxi.

The taxi offers enough space for five seated passengers.

It takes about two weeks to build a taxi.

Then it's off to navigate the streets of london.


The word champagne is often used to describe sparkling white wines.

But true champagne can only come from the champagne region of france.

It must meet a long list of special requirements before receiving the coveted label.

The champagne industry is heavily regulated.

The grapes must be locally grown in the champagne region of france.

They can only use three types of grapes, black pinot noir, pinot meunier, or white chardonnay, to produce champagne.

Additional rules regulate how the grapes can be pruned, picked, pressed, fermented and aged.

Workers harvest the grapes in mid-september.

They use aerated crates to transfer the crops to a grape press.

They crush the grapes and immediately filter the juice.

The grape skins and pulp can alter the juice's flavor, so they have to be removed quickly.

Vintage champagne is fermented in old oak barrels.

They use a sulfur disk to disinfect the barrels between uses.

First, a worker lights the disk and inserts it through a hole on the side.

The flame goes out once it's sealed inside the barrel.

The sulfur smoke fills the barrel and kills off any bacteria.

Non-vintage champagnes are produced in these stainless steel tanks.

They start the fermentation process by adding yeast to the grape juice.

In about 10 days, the yeast turns the sugar into alcohol and carbon dioxide gas.

The alcohol level of the wine is now about 10 1/2 percent.

There are no bubbles yet because the co2 escaped through the top of the tank.

Each fermentation barrel and tank is labeled based on where the juice inside originated.

The grape juices from each village have distinctive tastes, caused by differences in soil composition and sun exposure.

Blending begins after the first fermentation.

The winery's experts experiment with different combinations until they find the taste and aroma they're looking for.

They bottle the mixture with yeast and sugar, and place it in a cold, damp cellar for 5 weeks.

This second fermentation raises the alcohol content to 12 1/2 percent.

After fermentation, they lie the bottles down horizontally and let the champagne age for up to 10 years.

After the aging, the bottles go into a machine that freezes the neck.

The yeast residue freezes in a small ice cube under the cork.

The carbon dioxide is invented during the second fermentation.

When workers open each bottle, the gas pressure ejects the ice cube.

This procedure is called disgorging.

A worker turns the bottle to minimize the amount of champagne that escapes.

Then he smells it to make sure the champagne hasn't spoiled.

The winery makes a special liqueur out of wine and cane sugar, which they add to the champagne.

The amount of liqueur added brings the champagne to one of three sweetness levels, known as brut, sec, or demi-sec.

The filling machine secures the new cork with a wire cap.

The next machine rotate the bottles to mix in the liqueur.

Then the bottles go into the cellar for at least 3 months.

After they come out of the cellar, the bottles go through an automated washing machine.

A worker inspects every bottle for floating cork particles or flaws in the glass.

The labeling machine's first station places gold foil over the neck.

The foil label bears the winery's name.

The second station fires a shot of compressed air to mold the foil to the shape of the cork.

The third station glues on the neck label.

It's made of varnished paper.

Then, the last station applies an adhesive label to the front of the bottle.

A scanner makes sure the foil and labels are in the correct place.

This bottle of champagne is finally ready to drink.

When you pop the cork, the gas trapped inside gently escapes.

Shaking the bottle just before opening will cause an even more dramatic champagne explosion.

Either way, it's the perfect drink to celebrate any occasion.

Cheers.

Before the automated teller machine, withdrawals and deposits were made in person.

Then, in the 1960s, simple cash machines started to appear all over europe.

Later, more sophisticated versions were developed.

Today's atms make it easy and convenient to bank outside of normal business hours.

Atms are made of two sections.

The bottom is a steel safe that houses the cash dispenser.

The head module contains all the user features on top.

Most of the atm's non-electronic parts are cut from steel sheets.

Workers load the steel sheets into a computer-guided laser cutting machine.

The laser uses focused light to generate intense heat.

The heat melts the steel to make the cuts.

The simpler parts are stamped with a die and a press.

Next, a robot loads the piece into a fully-automated computer-guided bending press.

The press bends the part into the required shape.

A computer guided spot welder fuses the simple parts together at set intervals.

For more complex parts, a computer guided 3-d laser welds the entire joint.

An automated transport system dips the steel parts in a metal primer to prevent corrosion.

After dipping, they dry the parts in an oven.

The housing parts are sprayed with liquid or powder paint.

Then they go into an oven to bake on the color.

This is the internal structure for the atm's head module.

Workers assemble all the module's internal components, including the power unit and the atm's computer.

Then, they lower the head module onto the atm's steel safe.

The safe's walls can be up to 2 inches thick.

There's a separate assembly line for the operation panel.

This panel goes on the front of the head module.

It contains everything used in an atm transaction, from the card reader, to the key pad, and even the speaker system.

The key pad encrypts the user's personal identification number inside the atm.

The machine has up to three security cameras.

They record the key pad, the cash tray and the atm user.

Workers connect the monitor to the internal computer.

They also install the card reader and the receipt slot.

At the bank's request, they can install a separate module for deposits.

However, this atm uses the cash out slot to accept deposits.

Workers also install the shutter, a computer-controlled flap on the cash out slot.

It opens when the machine accepts a deposit or dispenses money.

Next, workers mount the operation panel to the head module.

On a separate assembly line, they prepare the electronic mechanical unit.

It dispenses the money and accepts cash and checks for deposits.

Workers load cassettes into the unit for each cash denomination.

The bank will separate and stock the cash for their atm.

Before they install the unit in the atm, they hook it up to a test computer.

They test a few different transactions with fake bills to make sure it dispenses the correct amount.

If the unit passes testing, workers install it in the atm safe.

They run a couple of the finished machines through several quality control tests.

First, a shake test ensures the atm can withstand a bumpy ride during transport.

Next, they conduct a shower test to ensure that rain won't damage an outdoor atm.

There's also a climate test.

They place the atm in a chamber that simulates temperature ranging from negative 40 degrees to over 120 degrees fahrenheit.

Atms designed for extreme temperatures usually have built-in heating or cooling systems.

Every atm comes with basic operating software installed.

The banks then install their custom software or have the manufacturer do it for them.

It takes a powerful engine to move a cruise liner or a cargo vessel.

Turbochargers help make it possible.

They double the diesel engine's output to 100,000 horsepower or more.

Turbochargers also use exhaust gases to run the compressor.

In a ship's engine, the turbocharger is a welcome breath of fresh air.

It's capable of significantly boosting the engine's performance.

It does this by compressing almost 200 feet of air per second, then thrusting that air into the engine's combustion chamber.

First, they make the turbine wheel.

It's used to extract the exhaust gases.

A long cutting tool known as a broach carves a tree-shaped pattern around the edge of a steel disk.

The pine tree shapes are designed to interlock with the matching blades.

Next, a computer-guided saw slices a brass alloy cylinder into small bearings.

These bearings will support the turbine shaft.

They make several bearings in a range of sizes and materials for different turbochargers.

Computerized tools mill the surface of the axial bearing.

They also drill holes to connect the turbine rotor and the casing.

This is the completed bearing.

A worker inserts one of the turbochargers nickel alloy blades in a mold.

He leaves the foot of the blade sticking out.

He slides the mold directly under a spout, which dispenses a hot liquefied tin alloy.

He fills the mold to the top.

The tin alloy solidifies, encasing the blade just below the foot.

This structure will fit into a clamping device in the grinding operation.

An employee inserts the tin-encased blades into tensioning devices in the grinding machine.

Inside the tensioning device, a clamping mechanism grips the blades.

As coolant flows, a computerized grinder carves grooves in the feet.

They're specially designed to engage with the tree pattern on the turbine disk.

They pull the tin alloy blocks out of the machine.

They break the tin alloy, and remove the blade inside.

Now, it's ready to be connected to the turbine wheel.

A worker slides the blade foot into place on the turbine disk.

Then he bends a clip back halfway, with pliers.

He tightens the alignment with a clamp.

He hammers the clamp down further, until it lays flat against the blade foot and turbine wheel.

This secures the blade to the wheel.

He continues until the blades are in place.

It takes 41 blades to complete the job.

Next, computerized tools mill the aluminum compressor wheel and prepare it for cutting.

The tools carve blades and grooves in the compressor.

The design makes the compressor more aerodynamic.

An aerodynamic compressor is important because it allows more air to reach the ship's engine.

Here's the compressor wheel before and after the milling operation.

Next, they run through compressor through a safety test.

They lower it into a chamber and spin it a lot faster than it would normally operate.

They confirm that the compressor can withstand a speed of 27,000 revolutions per minute without breaking.

Next, the compressor wheel receives an ultrasonic cleaning.

High frequency sound waves ripple through the water to scrub off any grease and contaminants.

A worker uses a blower to start drying the compressor wheel.

Then, he lowers it into a dryer to get rid of any residual moisture.

When we return, this marine turbocharger will become seaworthy.

Stay tuned.

Turbochargers deliver fresh air to big ship engines.

This enhances their combustion and adds to their mechanical might.

Turbochargers help make these diesel engines among the most powerful in the world, allowing them to move gigantic vessels swiftly through the water.

A technician shines an ultraviolet light onto the surface of the compressor wheel.

This illuminates any fine cracks that could compromise its quality.

If no cracks are found, they start assembling the rotor.

The employee slides bearings onto the main shaft and turbine.

He uses a crane to align the center hole of the compressor wheel with the shaft.

He guides it into place and fits it to the bearing.

Then he screws a cone-shaped cap onto the end.

The turbine wheel is connected to one end of the shaft, and the compressor is connected to the other.

The core parts of this turbocharger are now assembled.

A technician locks the rotor in a balancing machine.

When he activates the machine, the rotor starts spinning.

Sensors detect the speed and the angular position of the rotor.

They also check for any possible imbalances.

The team uses this information to shave down the rotor and bring it into balance.

Then, the final assembly of the turbocharger begins.

The team screws the iron casing to the gas outlet.

They attach three bearings to it.

This insert is called the labyrinth cover.

It will act as a seal for the turbine disk and shaft.

The long bolts fit into holes in the bearing casing.

He moves to the other side, and secures the protruding bolts and nuts.

He removes the compressor wheel temporarily to slide the shaft through the center bearing.

The turbine wheel fits perfectly over the labyrinth cover.

On the other side, he bolts the labyrinth disk to the casing.

The labyrinth disk protects against hot turbine exhaust gas and prevents oil leakage.

Then, he re-installs the compressor wheel.

Meanwhile, an employee wraps rock wool insulation around the gas inlet casing.

It's made of cast iron and built to withstand gases as hot as 900 degrees fahrenheit.

They cover the part with a heat-resistant fabric jacket.

Then it's ready to be mounted to the gas outlet casing.

Workers use a crane to move it into position.

They align the holes in the part with the threads in the casing.

Then they bolt it into place.

They install a cast iron casing around the compressor wheel and secure it with numerous nuts and bolts.

They hoist an insert part into place between the compressor wheel and the casing.

Air will flow between the insert and the compressor before traveling to the engine for combustion.

The turbocharger is now ready to be installed in a ship engine.

This is done in the factory's assembly hall.

Once in place, they fire up the engine and test its performance.

They evaluate how much power the turbocharger adds to the engine.

They also assess the turbocharger's impact on fuel efficiency.

This turbocharger meets expectations.

Some cars and trucks use small turbochargers in their engines, but these behemoths should deliver twice the air pressure of those models, so the ship's captain will have all the power he needs to navigate the high seas.


Swiss Army Knives
Player Piano Rolls
Oil Tankers
Racing Wheels

The swiss army knife is an entire tool kit in a pocket-sized package.

This little multitool actually dates back to 1891 with the original swiss soldier's knife.

It wasn't long before it morphed into other versions for sale to the general public, and a century later, it continues to come in handy.

Lost in the wilderness, or are you a serious multitasker?

Either way, a swiss army knife has tools to help you cope.

Production starts with this big coil of stainless steel.

Equipment pulls the steel between a press and a die.

The press forces the steel against the die to punch out blade shapes.

It also forms the finger groove for pulling the blade out of the handle.

They mass-produce parts like can openers and pliers using the same technique.

They load the blades into a vibrating mix of ceramic stones and water.

The friction polishes the steel.

A little powder keeps the parts from sticking together.

After several hours, they activate a powerful magnet to extract the parts from the vibrating mass.

The process has smoothed the blades significantly.

But the metal is weak and dull.

So a worker arranges the blades on a mesh conveyor which goes into an oven that exposes them to intense heat.

A quick cooldown follows, which toughens the steel considerably.

The hardened blades now ride a carousel into a grinding station, which slims and trims them.

That green liquid keeps them cool during this process.

Afterwards, a computerized tool measures the blades.

If the dimensions are even slightly off, they won't fit into the knife handle.

A quick stamp gives the part its trademark name.

To build the swiss army knife, they slide everything onto brass rivets, beginning with an aluminum spacer.

A flat metal spring goes on next, followed by a can opener, a screwdriver, and an awl, a punch to make holes in leather.

They stack another spacer and spring on top.

They tamp it down and then slide a multipurpose hook and a pair of scissors onto the rivets.

Another divider, another spring.

And then they add a wood saw to this multitool sandwich, because you never know when you might need one.

They press-fit the main blade, a corkscrew, and a smaller blade onto the assembly.

One final spacer, and then they secure the rivets with attachments called bushings.

Incredibly, they've packed nine tools into a bundle that's just under an inch thick.

They chop off the tops of the rivets to make them flush with the bushings, and then this spinning tool flattens them.

The result is a multipronged tool that's virtually impossible to pull apart.

The blade on the swiss army knife is thin compared to other pocket knives to allow it to fit into the casing.

They grind the cutting edge to angle it at just under 15 degrees.

This makes it razor-sharp, ensuring there won't be many dull moments in this blade's lifetime.

They measure the angled edge with a laser to verify that it's on the mark.

And now it's time for the handle.

It comes in two parts.

They sandwich the tool bundle between them and press everything together.

This embeds the bushings in the handle's holes for a tight installation.

Amazingly, there's still space in this swiss army knife for a set of tweezers and a toothpick.

Finally, they inspect every tool to confirm that it's in perfect condition and that it springs out of the handle as it's designed to.

Making a swiss army knife is a job performed with almost military precision.

There's no room for error when it comes to packing all these tools into a pocket-sized unit.

And once they do, this multitool is ready to spring into action.

The first self-playing piano system was invented around 1895.

It sat in front of a regular piano, and the machine's wooden fingers would play the keys.

Guiding those fingers was a roll of perforated paper.

By the early 20th century, piano companies incorporated the roll mechanism right into the piano itself.

The player-piano rage petered out around 1930, but there are still plenty of old player pianos around, so there remains a market for the music rolls they play.

The original roll-making method used a recording piano.

as the musician played, each key would trigger a pneumatic valve which pressed the corresponding rod against piano roll paper over carbon paper.

Then they just perforate the carbon marks.

The modern method uses an electronic keyboard and a computer.

As the musician plays, the computer converts the notes to data.

The musician edits the data, then loads it into a computer that's hooked up to the roll perforator, a machine that produces 18 rolls simultaneously.

Like the old recording machine, the roll perforator has a pneumatic valve for each note of the piano keyboard.

As the computer activates each note, the corresponding valve triggers a steel punch to descend and pierce a hole in the passing paper.

The longer the hole, the longer the note.

Most music consists of multi-note chords, so the machine vibrates like crazy, punching many notes simultaneously.

When the machine finishes perforating, the operator cuts off the paper and sticks on a temporary label bearing the song title.

The paper then moves on to another area, where they permanently stamp on the title and other information.

Here, they slice the front end of the paper into a point.

Meanwhile, this machine rivets brass eyelets onto an adhesive-backed polyethylene strip.

Then around each eyelet, a die stamps out a tab.

They stick one eyelet tab to the pointed tip of each roll.

This tab end, as it's called, hooks into the mechanism of the player piano.

A touch of cornstarch over any exposed adhesive prevents the papers from sticking to one another.

When the music has lyrics, they print the words right on the rolls so you can sing along as the piano plays.

The first step is to make a lyric stencil, which requires cranking out each word, letter by letter.

The placement of words on the stencil is tricky because they have to synchronize with the notes.

The stencil goes into a printer which applies the lyrics with an ink roller.

The last step is to roll up the rolls.

They wind each one around a cardboard spool that has a plastic flange on each end.

When you load a roll into the piano, you mount its flanges on holders, then hook the tab end to a spool that pulls the roll through the player mechanism.

A rubber band to keep the roll from unraveling-- then it's into a custom box.

A machine shapes and hot-glues sheets of ornately printed cardboard into the box tops.

The finishing touch is a sticker with the title of the music.

When a roll moves through a player piano, air flows through the perforations, triggering the corresponding pneumatic valves.

Each valve pushes down the corresponding note.

This factory produces more than 4,500 different song titles on player-piano rolls, from classic favorites to top-10 hits.

The first oil tanker was launched by the british in the latter part of the 19th century, and it fueled a revolution in transportation.

These enormous ships now dominate the world's oceans.

They move millions of tons of oil daily.

And without them, most of the world's economies would be powerless.

The life-size version of this tanker ship will be bigger than two football fields.

It's so big that they build it in sections called grand blocks, which they assemble by crane in a dry dock.

The process takes plenty of planning and engineering.

They map out the job on a computer and assign a number to each of the 110,000 parts.

In a big job like this, computer-coordinated labeling is the only way to go.

They weld steel sheets to build the ship's hull.

Sand, placed on the seam, melts during the welding to shield the seam from any contaminants in the air.

Workers ready the structural steel beams.

A robot places them at just the right spot on the welded section of the hull.

Then an operator verifies that the placement is correct.

More robots weld the beams to the hull section.

Next, they submerge a steel plate in water.

The water suppresses the noise and smoke from a plasma cutter as it carves holes in the steel.

This steel plate will be part of the ballast tank.

Some of the holes will allow water to flow through while others lighten up the steel structure.

The superheated plasma also cuts slits to interlock with the structural beams on the hull part.

They then weld the assembly and install a top plate for a double-layered hull.

Double hulls provide extra protection against oil spillage.

After a paint job, powerful machinery transfers the double-hull grand block to its final position on the side of the tanker.

When fully assembled, the hull will have 12 cargo tanks with a total capacity of 14 million gallons.

The engine section is situated at the stern of the tanker.

It will take three diesel generators to power the ship's lighting, ventilation, and computer systems.

They carefully lower each one onto the deck of the ship.

A 10,000-horsepower diesel engine will be the tanker's driving force.

Installing it is a very precise business.

It has to be in just the right position to turn the massive propeller.

Four months later, the hull is complete and the massive propeller is in position.

It's all hands on deck to build the deckhouse, where a crew will live for months at a time.

There will be an incredible 10 miles of piping on this ship.

Here, workers weld and bolt them to the deck grand blocks.

It's an elaborate maze with an impressive master plan.

They connect these pipes to the series of tanks in the hull so they can be used to load and unload cargo.

Meanwhile, inside the hull, those cargo tanks are coming together.

On the very bottom, the crew builds a network of heating coils.

They'll be used to heat crude oil to a more fluid form so it can be pumped out of the tanks.

Other workers grind welded seams on the ship's outer skin.

This evens the surface for painting.

The paint is an epoxy blend that resists corrosion in salt water.

They apply it in three or four layers and measure its thickness with a special ultrasonic gauge.

In total, they spray more than 38,000 gallons of paint on this tanker.

In this time-lapse video, our tanker comes together like toy building blocks in a matter of seconds.

But as you've just learned, this is a complex job.

It actually takes 16 months.

A couple more months of testing, and this tanker should be good for the long haul.

At first glance, a racing wheel doesn't look much different than a standard wheel.

But look a little closer.

There are subtle differences in the angles and contours that set it apart.

They give it the strength to handle the extreme forces of racing and to corner well at high speed, which should have them cheering in the stands.

The driver will get the trophy and the credit, but a good set of wheels is behind every win.

They start with high-strength, low-alloy steel, which is a very stable material.

The first of a series of die presses gives the center disc a concave profile and forms lug holes.

The next press punches a hole for the hub and others called windows.

Windows help cool the brakes while maintaining strength where needed.

They stamp rings around the windows.

This is called coining.

The rings give the windows a nicer look, and the action compresses the steel to further strengthen the part.

The next press is critical.

It forces the disc into a bowl shape and gives it precise dimensions to accommodate brakes.

The specific angles also reinforce the part.

It has taken a lot of punching and pressing, but the center disc of this racing wheel has really taken shape.

A smaller press now punches out the lug holes that were outlined earlier.

These holes will allow the wheel to be mounted to a vehicle.

Then the center disc goes for a spin as a series of tools trim it.

The part is now complete.

To make the rim, a machine unwinds coiled steel, and rollers iron out the curl.

A mechanical arm maintains slack as the flattened steel goes under the knife.

The blade, called a shearer, cuts the steel to length and stamps product information onto it in one swoop.

An operator now winds the steel between three rollers to twist it into a band.

He then places the band into the jaws of a welder, which fuses the two ends together.

He then slides the band into a machine that scrapes off excess material from the well.

It's still warm, so it can be easily removed.

Now the band comes under some serious pressure as a machine forces it around dies at both ends to create flares.

This rack transfers the rim to a series of rollers which shape its inner ledge.

This part of the rim is called the bead seed, and it will be attached to the bead wall of the tire.

They trim the rim to make the edges neater.

This finishes off the part.

They nestled the center disc loosely in the rim.

As the rim spins, they heat the outside with a torch.

This causes the steel to expand, and the center disc drops further into the rim.

As the rim cools, it contracts, shrinking to the center part.

The two parts are now interconnected, and a welding job makes the bond permanent.

A worker drills threaded holes onto the wheel to attach valve stems.

As it exits, the drill turns in reverse so it doesn't wreck the threads.

After a fresh coat of paint, they apply a thread-locking adhesive to the valve stems and screw them into the holes.

The valves will be used to add air to the tires.

The wheel rotates as a small roller paints a stripe onto the rim for accent.

Then a press stamps a number onto it to identify this wheel in the event of a problem.

And now this wheel is on a fast track to the finish line.


Wax Figures
Awnings
Sandwich Crackers
Pewter Tankards

We can't all rub shoulders with political greats and movie stars.

But for the price of admission to a wax attraction, anyone can mingle with their wax replicas.

These look-alikes aren't much for conversation, but the likeness can be startling, thanks to a process honed over centuries.

Famous faces come to life in beeswax, so it's almost like seeing them in the flesh.

But how do they do it?

It often starts with a face-to-face meeting with the subject, during which they take more than 200 measurements of the face alone and still more of the body.

Drawing on those measurements and using photos and additional research, an artist sculpts a clay body onto a metal skeleton.

This clay sculpture will be used to make a mold.

The head, of course, receives special attention.

They sculpt it in stages, and this takes about six weeks.

To check the symmetry of the sculptured face, the artist stretches a wire from the temple to the chin.

She measures it from all angles and compares the numbers to measurements of the actual subject.

Every single aspect of the clay face must mirror that of the subject's precisely so if it's even slightly off, she makes adjustments.

Here, she redefines the teeth a bit more.

And then she tweaks the hairline.

They're now ready for the next step-- the making of the head mold.

The worker paints plaster onto the sculpture in 14 different sections.

This multi-part mold can be easily removed from the clay head once the plaster dries.

After the clay head has been discarded, they give the reassembled mold a quick rinse.

The wax artist turns the plaster head mold upside down and slots it into the wax bench, so named because it secures the mold during the wax casting.

They melt blocks of japanese beeswax and funnel the liquid wax into the neck of the plaster cast.

They let it set for an hour, just long enough for the wax to solidify and form a thick crust around the inside of the cast.

The artist removes crust at the neck and pours out the rest of the wax, leaving a hollow wax face inside.

They set it aside for another hour to further solidify.

The wax artist removes the plaster mold and comes face to face with the wax creation.

She examines it thoroughly, confirming that the detail from the mold has been effectively transferred to the wax and that the wax face is a dead ringer for the human subject.

The team then casts the wax figure's hands, and an artist matches the subject's skin tone against a chart.

She mixes paint and dabs the brush in it.

She then strikes her brush with another one so the paint splatters across the hand.

She blots up the paint to blend it in.

This technique gives the wax a speckled look that mimics human pores.

She paints on knuckles, veins, and distinctive markings to mimic those on the subject's hands.

She gives the nails a manicure to make the hands look identical to the subject's.

In the hands of a skilled artist, these wax hands have come to life.

As a medical glass eye spins, the artist blots on a very wide pupil first and then paints the periphery to mimic the person's iris.

Iris color and pattern are unique to the individual, and the artist replicates those qualities as closely as possible.

She glues red silk threads onto the whites of the eyes to simulate broken blood vessels.

It's another touch of realism.

They slot the eyes into sockets in the wax head.

Then the wax figure is ready for its hair-- actual human hair matched to the subject's.

They pierce the wax with a hot needle to insert each hair individually.

The wax melts and closes around the hair.

This process can take four weeks.

They also plug in brows and lashes and then brush on paint like makeup.

With his face on, the wax figure now looks true to life.

Once completed, wax figures get movie-star treatment.

Their hair is washed and styled regularly, and their clothing is routinely dry-cleaned.

After all, even wax versions of famous people have to keep up appearances.

The unfurling of awnings usually marks the roll-out of patio season.

It's a long tradition, one that actually dates back centuries.

Early romans were among the first to seek refuge from the hot sun under fabric awnings.

And today, design innovations mean there's always something new under the sun.

With modern mechanisms, unfolding an awning has never been easier.

This manual crank system is designed for a smooth roll-out.

And for extra convenience, there are motorized awnings operated by remote control.

Production begins with the fabric, which comes in a range of weather-resistant synthetics.

The seamstress cuts out patterns from thick acrylic material and sews the pieces together.

Here she works on the awning's front valance.

A roller keeps the fabric correctly aligned and stops it from bunching up as she sews.

She stitches a long pocket along the border.

A plastic rod will later be channeled through it to connect the valance to the awning framework.

She traces a scalloped edge onto the bottom of the valance and then carefully cuts along the penciled line.

With a steady hand, she follows the outline precisely to give the valance those distinctive curves and notches.

Workers then position the awning panel in front of an aluminum tube.

They thread the pocketed end of the awning into a channel in the tube and then slide a plastic rod into the pocket.

This secures the end of the fabric to the tube.

It takes two people to avoid any buckling of the fabric.

They insert a plastic cap into one end of the tube but leave the other end open for the installation of the motor.

They now wind the awning panel around the tube, synchronizing their efforts so the tension in the roll is equal at both ends.

Next, rollers carry a squared aluminum tube to a circular saw.

Once in position, arms descend to steady the tube, and the saw slices it to the correct length.

The cut tube will be the carrier bar, an important part of the awning framework.

A worker now builds that framework, starting with the carrier bar.

He slides a bracket partway down the tube and uses it to attach the retractable arms, securing the assembly with a heavy-duty steel pin.

Two workers slide connector pieces into the grooves in the drop bar for the valance.

Then they raise the bar and attach the retractable arms.

They install a side bearing in the end of the connector bar.

It's one of two that will support the awning's main tube.

Next up is that fabric-wrapped tube.

They attach it to the framework and tuck the other end of the awning fabric into a round slot in the drop bar.

They slide another long plastic rod through a pocket in the fabric to secure it.

They're now ready for the motor.

It's a tubular model.

He attaches a metal bracket for assembling the motor to the main framework.

He then equips the tubular motor with two plastic rings, one at each end.

Powered by the motor, these rings will revolve to open and close the awning.

A test confirms that it's fully operational.

He slides the tubular motor into the open end of the awning tube.

He attaches the second side bearing to the metal bracket...

And caps the open end of the drop bar.

A few taps with a hammer drives it down the shaft.

He now tests the awning to confirm that everything unfolds as it should.

He tightens some screws.

And when it's perfectly operational, he'll install the valance.

It takes about an hour to manufacture a motorized awning, and it should supply about a decade of shade.

Sandwich crackers are one of life's little conveniences-- crispy wafers with peanut butter or cheese spread between them, all wrapped up in a neat package.

In north america, factories have been mass-producing these snacks since the early part of the 20th century to satisfy the need to nibble.

Sandwich crackers come in handy for a quick refuel.

Just unwrap and snack while continuing on your routine.

They start with the smaller ingredients for the dough, which include baking soda, a powdered cheese additive, and a kind of phosphate, which, like the baking soda, is a leavening agent.

Next are enzyme tablets and the yeast, two ingredients that will later cause the dough to ferment to give the crackers textural strength.

They add water and thicken the liquefied blend with a little flour.

This makes it easier to pump into the next mixer.

This one is a big trough full of flour.

They add ice to chill it and then pipe in the small-ingredient blend.

Cooling the mix with ice preserves the yeast and enzymes to hold off on fermentation.

If fermentation happens too soon, the dough could turn to mush.

They lower a lid equipped with three spiraling blades and set the blades in motion, pumping in more water to augment the moisture from the melting ice and small-ingredient blend.

It's now ready for fermentation, so it's into a warm room to activate the yeast and the enzymes.

The dough swells, and a worker breaks the crust to release gas.

An automated system tips the trough of dough into a chute that takes it one floor down to the rolling station.

The chemical changes caused by fermentation have made this dough less sticky, so it can now be rolled into sheets without adhering to the equipment.

The dough now travels between rollers that flatten it and squeeze it to a specific thickness.

The sheets of dough exit and accumulate.

When several layers have piled up, the dough is on the move again.

Several layers at a time now, it moves between a series of rollers, which compress the dough to its final thickness.

A quick dust with flour, and the dough now goes under a rolling cutter that scores it to cracker-size proportions.

The cutter is also spiked with pins that puncture the dough.

The holes give the crackers a dimpled look, and they have a practical purpose, allowing steam to escape during cooking for a crispier snack.

A sprinkle of salt, and the cracker dough now heads into the oven.

This oven is more than 65 yards long, with several heating zones.

The hottest is around 700 degrees fahrenheit.

A roller breaks them cleanly along the score lines.

A quick spray with vegetable oil adds flavor.

The crackers then transfer from one conveyer to another and land in neat stacks.

They head into an inspection station, where workers pick out any damaged crackers and adjust the alignment of the shingled rows so it's a smooth transition as the crackers move into lanes.

Down the line, workers pull off samples to weigh them.

Then equipment flips the crackers upright, positioning them to enter the filling line.

The peanut-butter filling is ready and kept warm so it's smooth and creamy enough to pump.

The top crackers now head downward in a precise configuration, while below, the bottom crackers whiz by the peanut-butter depositor.

It pumps a dollop of peanut butter onto each bottom cracker.

The peanut-butter-covered bottom crackers now move forward to meet up with the top crackers.

And again, with perfect timing, the top crackers land on the bottom ones in exact alignment.

Equipment separates them into sets of three as they head into packaging.

Plastic wrap envelops them, and a heat sealer cuts and closes the packets.

Suctioning arms collect the packets and transfer them to cardboard boxes.

From mixing to packaging, it has taken about 24 hours to produce a packet of sandwich crackers.

Once it reaches a hungry snacker, it will be gone in no time at all.

A traditional drinking vessel typically used for beer, a tankard often has a hinged lid you raise and lower with a thumb lever.

Dating back to 15th-century england, they were initially made of wood, then silver or pewter.

The tradition of hand-crafting pewter tankards continues today.

This manufacturer makes pewter tankards in many styles, one of which has the legend of the king's shilling engraved on it and a reproduction of a shilling coin from 1816 encased in the glass bottom.

Every step is done by hand, beginning with a sheet of pewter that's just 1/14 of an inch thick.

Using a punch press, they cut it into the shape required to form the tankard's body.

Next, they place the pewter on a copper plate that has on it, in raised lettering, the story of the king's shilling.

They feed this in between two rollers that press the lettering into the pewter.

A soft metal, pewter is composed mostly of tin, along with smaller quantities of two other metals-- antimony and copper.

Next, a metalsmith takes over.

He manually bends the pewter into the cylindrical shape of the tankard's body.

He brushes on flux, a chemical which helps molten metal flow more easily.

Then, with a soldering tool, he fuses the edges of the body with pure tin solder.

Traditionally, both the pewter and solder contained lead, but today, both are lead-free.

Next, the metalsmith slides the cylinder onto a steel form and hammers the solder seam flat, rendering it virtually invisible.

Now a specialized tradesman known as a pewter spinner slips the body onto a lathe.

As the lathe rotates, he uses a series of tools to smooth the surface, trim excess off the top and bottom, and turn the top edge over to form a lip.

Next, a buffer uses pumice and a cloth buffing wheel to remove imperfections and make the surface silky-smooth.

Meanwhile, in the casting department, they heat solid pewter to 465 degrees fahrenheit then carefully pour the now molten metal into a rubber mold.

Inside are several cavities for shillings and large rings.

After about 30 seconds, the pewter solidifies, and the parts can come out.

To make the tankard's handle, the casters pour molten pewter into a steel mold, then tilt the mold in all directions to spread the rapidly setting metal all along the wall of the cavity.

This makes the handle hollow and therefore lightweight.

They grind the ends on an abrasive belt so the handle will fit flush against the tankard body.

Another worker, meanwhile, assembles the tankard's glass base.

A glass disk, a shilling, a ring, then a second glass disk.

The ring acts as a spacer, creating enough of a gap between the glass disks to allow the coin to slide around.

He applies waterproof glue around the perimeter to adhere everything together.

Next, he places this shilling sandwich in a pewter base and adheres a second ring to hide the glue.

Back to the metalsmith now.

He dabs the tankard's body onto a pad impregnated with flux.

He then solders together the body and base.

Once the parts are attached, a final buffing with a soft felt wheel.

Next, the metalsmith dips the handle ends in flux and solders them to the body.

To avoid scorching the tankard's surface, this time he uses a bismuth-and-tin solder, which requires a lower temperature to melt.

The tankard is now fully constructed.

They clean it in a dishwasher, then shine it up.

First, the polisher does the inside, using a rough-grid abrasive compound, producing a matte finish.

Then he polishes the outside, using a finer-grid compound.

This produces a contrasting mirror finish.

In 18th- and 19th-century england, a volunteer for army or naval service accepted a shilling as a bonus upon signing up.

However, volunteers were in short supply, so recruiters are said to have visited pubs and slipped shillings into the pewter tankards of inebriated men, who, upon their last sip, discovered they'd been duped into serving.

It may well be a myth, but it still makes a darn good story to share over a pint.