Spiral Stairs
Pita Bread
Exhaust Headers
Molded Limestone Artwork

spiral stairs were part of a strategy to defend the towers of medieval castles.

Attackers had to climb single-file and couldn't storm the castle all at once.

And at the top of the stairs, the guardsmen could more easily maneuver their swords, giving them the upper hand.

Spiral stairs take people to the next level without taking up a lot of space.

They're compact, and with their corkscrew curvature, they can also be architectural features.

Production starts with the steel hubs cut to the desired riser height.

A worker files the sharp edges smooth and drills a threaded hole which will be used to fasten the treads in place.

A computer-driven plasma system cuts through a sheet of steel to produce the pie-shaped stair treads.

A worker nestles a tread to the hub and clamps them in a weld fixture.

He also clamps structural supports to the base of the tread.

With everything in the right configuration, he welds the supports to the tread and the hub.

He'll make 12 of these hub and tread assemblies.

He chips off the weld slag for cleaner seams.

A team slides the hub and tread assemblies on to the center pole and rotates them to the correct position.

The design geometry dictates the rotation.

Once rotated correctly, the workers fasten the hubs to the pole and add a platform for the top step.

A baluster spins in a lathe, as tools cut it to length and round the end to the correct diameter.

The operator measures the diameter.

He inserts the rounded end in a dye that carves the thread into it.

A worker welds a steel cup just above the threaded part of the baluster.

This cup will support the baluster once it's been installed on the thread.

He grinds the weld scale from the cup.

He inserts the baluster through holes in a metal spacer in the tread.

He screws a nut on to the end to secure it.

Using rollers now, another worker twists long strips of metal into spiraling hand rails that match the rise of the stairs.

He fits the rail to the top balusters and clamps it in place.

He then welds the balusters to the rail.

He adds more railing until it spirals all the way down to the first step.

The team secures it to the platform.

The spiral staircase's metal structure is now complete.

It's ready for the wooden accents.

A worker applies glue to pieces of red oak.

He'll use two of them to make one stair tread.

He clamps two tread sets in a fixture while the glue sets.

He inserts a shim and tightens the clamp to apply downward pressure.

Once the glue has cured, a planer shaves the tread perfectly flat and to the desired thickness.

After refining the profile, a worker rounds the edge of the stair tread using a router.

After gluing strips of wood together to create a curved railing, he sands the excess adhesive, and with a file, removes more of the glue.

He turns the railing over and carves a groove in the wood.

This will enable the railing to be installed over the metal rail support.

He adds some detailing along the edge.

A team then fits the wooden railing to the metal support structure.

All of the rail sections fit together perfectly.

After the pre-fit, they remove the railing and sculpt the edges to be rounder.

The rounded edges complement the overall spiral design.

A worker pre-fits the wooden treads to the metal structure and then disassembles the entire spiral staircase for painting and staining.

The spiral stairs are then ready for reassembly in the building they were designed for.

They'll definitely add a certain twist to the interior design.

Originating in the middle east, pita bread has been around for thousands of years.

Today, its popularity continues to grow around the globe.

Part of its appeal is its versatility.

People can stuff their pita's pockets, use it as a sandwich wrap, or slice it for dipping.

Pita bread may be flat, but that doesn't mean it's boring.

Anyone can use pita to make any number of interesting lunchtime combinations.

Making pita bread starts with silos full of flour.

A blower system delivers the flour to an automated sifter.

The sifter shakes the flour through three levels of mesh to filter out impurities.

Magnets extract any metal contaminants.

Workers prepare a pre-mix of sugar, salt, yeast, and preservatives.

They combine these ingredients with the sifted flour in a big mixer and add water.

The mixer is equipped with numerous bars that rotate horizontally to blend the ingredients.

The operator opens the mixer and spins it one more time to eject the dough into a bin.

He rolls the bin to the next station.

Here the pita dough goes into a hopper.

And from there, it drops into a machine called a dough divider.

This machine turns big chunks of dough into many small blobs.

To do this, it forces the dough through a round hole, and a guillotine blade chops it to the correct thickness.

The dough blobs ride a conveyor and pass under a roller that flattens them.

Flour from an overhead sifter dusts the dough blobs to keep them from sticking to the machinery.

Each one of these flattened dough blobs will eventually become a pita.

The round pieces of dough now ride a conveyor up to a warm zone.

Over a period of 15 minutes, the yeast ferments, causing the dough to rise.

Out of the fermentation station, a roller flattens the pita dough segments again.

They're now ready to be rolled very thin in a process known as sheeting.

The next roller presses the pita dough much thinner.

Rolling it in one direction makes the dough segments oval-shaped.

The oval pitas ride by a pusher that now shoves them towards the final roller.

It rolls the dough in the other direction to round out the shape and make it even thinner.

Perfectly round and thin, the pitas now travel up to another fermentation operation.

Inside, the temperature is toasty.

It's warm enough to reawaken the yeast and cause the dough to rise again.

Conveyors move in criss-cross directions to take the pitas back and forth.

This zig-zagging journey lasts about 15 minutes.

When the pitas emerge from the chamber, they have thickened up substantially.

They head into an oven where the magic happens.

The oven's temperature is between 750 and 930 degrees fahrenheit.

They spend just 15 seconds in it.

This flash-baking causes the water in the dough to turn to steam.

The steam puffs the pitas, creating pockets inside.

The pitas then travel on conveyors for a 20 minute cool down.

As they cool, they deflate.

The process has created pockets in the pitas.

Once sliced open, the pockets can be stuffed to create sandwiches.

Workers stack the pitas six high for packaging.

The next conveyor delivers the stacks into the clutch of an automated arm.

Just ahead, a burst of air opens a bag and the arm inserts the pitas into it.

At the same time, it pushes the bag on to the next conveyor.

Moving forward, another device automatically twists the open end of the bag.

The device applies a plastic lock tab to the twisted end of the bag, sealing the pita breads inside.

The bags pass by a metal detector, and then they're on their way to the supermarket.

This pita bread has taken 45 minutes to make and package, but it should enable lunch to come together very quickly.

Installing exhaust headers will add extra power from a car's engine.

They bolt on to the engine, giving each cylinder its own exhaust pipe leading to the collector, which connects to the car's main exhaust pipe.

That's more efficient than having all the cylinders exhaust into a common manifold.

A header draws out significantly more spent exhaust gasses after combustion, leaving room for a greater amount of new gas and fresh air to enter the cylinder for the next combustion cycle.

Headers are made of steel or stainless steel.

A worker uses a roll cutter to slice tubes into nearly 6-inch-long pieces for the header's collector.

A forming tool on a press stretches one side of the collector outward.

Then the worker places the same side on an end-forming machine, which shapes it like a four-leaf clover.

He slips a flange over the unshaped side and widens that side to create the ball portion of the gasketless ball and socket connection to the car's main exhaust pipe.

Meanwhile, another worker roll cuts narrower tubes into 32-inch-long pieces to make the header's primary tubes, the ones that attach at the top to engine's cylinders.

A worker slides a tube on to a mandrel, then the computer-guided mandrel bender bends the tube in four places.

The mandrel fills the inside of the tube just up to the bend point, preventing the tube from compressing or collapsing under pressure.

The header they're making here is for a four-cylinder engine, so it has four primary tubes.

An eight-cylinder engine requires a pair of headers, whereas a six-cylinder engine requires a pair of three-tube headers.

A worker trims the bent primary tubes to the required length with a bandsaw.

The sawed edges of the tube are ragged, so the next step is to grind them smooth.

After grinding, the edge no longer looks like this.

Workers heat the top end of the tube with a torch to soften the steel.

They place the end into an end-forming machine.

The machine shapes the end to match the top profile of the cylinder, to which the tube will be mounted.

Cylinder profiles vary from engine to engine, so workers simply change the forming tool on the machine.

A worker clamps the header flange with its four exhaust ports on to an assembly jig and positions the top end of a primary tube in each port.

He inserts the bottom ends into the four-leaf-clover-shaped collector.

He then welds the top end of each tube to its exhaust port on the header flange.

Then he welds a tag with the company name on to one of the tubes.

Finally, he welds the bottom end of the tubes to the collector.

The header's three sections--  flange, tubes, and collector-- are now fused.

The worker grinds down the weld around the ports until it's nearly flush.

The remaining bit of weld material encircling the port will act as a seal to prevent leakage.

During the welding, some welding material drips into the header flange's openings, so a worker reams the bolt holes with a drill and grinds the edges of each port.

He mounts the header on the corresponding engine's cylinder head to make sure bolt holes are sufficiently cleared.

Then he runs a torch over all the joints to check the welds.

The flame would shoot through any hole in a weld, alerting them to repair it.

This factory applies one of two finishes on its exhaust headers.

The basic one is a coat of black water-based paint sprayed on and air-dried.

It prevents surface rust from forming while the part is warehoused.

The higher-end finish is an aerospace-grade ceramic coating, available in black or silver.

This baked-on finish protects the headers from rust for many years of high-performance driving.

This may look like ivory, but it's actually limestone.

It looks as though it's a sculpted work of art, but it's actually molded.

How does one mold limestone?

200 years ago, some people in france figured out how, and their descendents are still molding limestone artwork today.

This unique art form exists because, two centuries ago, a family in france discovered springs amid volcanic rock, springs with water so rich in calcium carbonate that it petrified into stone.

That is limestone.

The family carved out caves, then invented a way to capture the calcium carbonate and mold sculptures with it.

The descendents of the family continue that tradition today.

The springwater contains two grams of calcium carbonate per liter and a lot of iron oxide, which makes the water orange.

The original troughs direct the water on to a bed of wood shavings.

The shavings trap the iron oxide, and the calcium carbonate floats to the surface.

In the workshop, the owner of the company-- the seventh generation of the founding family-- makes the mold.

He heats something called gutta-percha in a pot of water to soften it up.

Gutta-percha is a natural latex made from the sap of the gutta tree.

Once it's soft, he weighs out the required amount using the workshop's original scale.

Then he kneads it to force out trapped air and make it more malleable.

After forming it into a ball, he places it in an old press made my his great-grandfather.

The press shapes the gutta-percha into a rectangle measuring 7-by-10 inches.

After cooling in the press for 30 minutes, the gutta-percha has hardened just enough to maintain the rectangular shape.

He removes it from the press and places a silicone-designed template on top.

He cuts the gutta-percha to the shape of the template.

He places the gutta-percha on top of a pattern created by an artist.

He places the template on the gutta-percha, then a plank of wood on top of that.

He puts the entire assembly under an old screw press.

An hour later, he removes the assembly from the press and gently separates the layers.

The artwork design is now transferred from the pattern to the gutta-percha.

He sets it aside to cool to a hard state.

When the work of art is either too wide or high to fit into the traditional screw press, the artisan then sculpts the pattern out of clay.

Once the clay hardens, he coats it in silicone to make the mold.

This modern mold-making technique is a bit trickier because silicone can't be reheated and reworked like gutta-percha.

The silicone takes about 24 hours to harden into a flexible mold.

A silicone mold can be used only once.

And because it's so flexible, it has to sit on a support tray so that it doesn't buckle when filled or moved.

Now it's time to mold the limestone.

A craftsman positions the molds under these liquid limestone waterfalls.

The carbonic gas in the liquid gradually evaporates, leaving accumulating deposits of calcium carbonate in the molds.

An artisan moves every mold to a new position daily so that the dripping water hits all parts of it.

Artwork just one 1/5 of an inch thick requires six months under the fountain.

Artwork 4/5 of an inch thick requires two years.

To extract the limestone artwork from a traditional mold, the artisan immerses it in hot water to soften the gutta-percha so that he can gently peel it off.

Every intricate detail of the design in the gutta-percha is now replicated in limestone.

This molded rock is as strong and hard as marble.

To extra the artwork from a silicone mold, an artisan removes the support tray and lifts off the silicone.

The company has more than 500 artwork patterns in stock dating back to 1821.

Not all the molded limestone looks the same.

The artisans can tailor the shade from white to ivory by controlling how much iron oxide they remove from the water.


Wheel Loaders
Vegetable Oil
Hand Tools
Cotton Swabs

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

Wheel loaders...

Vegetable oil...

Hand tools...

And cotton swabs.

They're big, they're bulky, and boy, can they move stuff.

Wheel loaders are drivable heavy machines.

You see them on construction sites moving dirt, at landfill sites moving garbage, and in the winter, you see them all over, clearing large quantities of snow.

They start by assembling the 100-odd steel components that make up the front frame.

These parts are so heavy that workers have to use industrial-strength magnets to move them.

Take note of those pieces with the holes in them.

We'll come back to them later.

Workers measure and mark exactly where they'll weld the front frame parts together.

You might not think precision is all that important when it comes to building a 20-ton hunk of machinery, but it is.

Being just a few hundredths of an inch off can cause major problems.

The preliminary welding is done by hand.

Workers tack the parts together.

They do the same with the 100-plus steel parts that make up the loader's three other sections-- the rear frame, the driver's cab, and the moving arm at the front called the boom arm.

Once the manual welding is completed, robots take over to do the major welding.

They weld about 90% of the wheel loader.

Now that the front frame is solidly fused, it undergoes a final machining.

Remember those parts with the holes in them?

They're what enable the boom arm to move.

A computerized sensor now measures those holes and calculates how to cut them to the exact specifications of the engineering design.

The computer then guides the machining tool to tailor the holes to spec.

First, a preliminary cut.

Then, after some oil lubrication, the final cut.

When this operation's complete, the front frame will join the other sections at the paint shop.

After painting, workers begin the final assembly.

They position an axle under the front frame and another under the rear.

Then, they affix the frames to the axles with heavy-duty bolts.

They mount the diesel engine and transmission in the rear frame.

After assembling the cab, they install it onto the rear frame...

Then connect the wiring for the controls.

Now comes the boom arm.

Remember those front frame parts with the holes?

Workers line them up with the holes on the boom arm, then insert giant steel pins.

This creates a pivot mechanism, enabling the arm to move up and down.

The moving parts must fit together snugly, but not so tightly as to restrict movement, which explains why welding and machining precision was so crucial.

Once they've tested the boom arm's hydraulic lift system...

Workers install the tires, which are almost 6 1/2 feet tall.

Using a specially calibrated torque gun, they bolt the tires to the rim...

32 bolts in all.

The wheel loader is fully assembled.

Now the boom arm can be equipped with a forklift, a broom, or a big shovel called a bucket.

Vegetable oil is a fat extracted from the fruit or seeds of certain plants, such as corn, canola, cottonseed, safflower, sunflower, or soybean.

There are various ways to extract the oil.

The method we're about to see is called cold pressing.

It all starts with seeds-- in this case, a dark variety of sunflower seeds.

Cold pressing yields less oil than other methods, so it's usually just smaller specialty companies that use the process.

The big vegetable-oil makers tend to use solvents and high-pressure, high-speed presses.

That is much more productive.

But it also generates heat, which darkens the oil and diminishes its flavor and nutritional value.

These seeds, shells and all, will go through this low-pressure press.

The temperature inside is kept below 104 degrees fahrenheit-- hence the term "cold pressed".

The press operator has to carefully monitor and adjust the speed, pressure, and temperature...

Because keeping a press cool is no easy task, given the heat that mashing seeds naturally generates.

The pressing mechanism, the screw press, is made up of several sections.

They can shorten or lengthen it according to the type of seeds they're pressing to allow for more or less room for the seeds within the chamber.

220 pounds of seeds go through the press every hour, producing about 10 gallons of oil...

Low volume, but high quality.

The seed residue, called seed cakes, is later sold for animal feed.

Now, though, they're the key to monitoring temperature.

If the seed cakes are too warm, that means heat is building up and they have to open the exit wider to reduce the inside pressure and bring the temperature down.

Once the oil is extracted, they pump it through a filtration system.

These cloth filters allow the oil to pass through, but any remaining seed residue gets caught in the fibers.

The oil runs through the filters repeatedly until it becomes clear.

Mastering the art of cold pressing takes a lot of know-how and experience, but it results in oil that's healthier and tastier.

Cold-pressed oils made from other seeds pose different production challenges.

Flaxseed and hempseed are extremely sensitive to heat, so workers have to cool the press during the process to offset the heat that pressing generates.

Canola, on the other hand, isn't particularly sensitive to heat, nor is sesame.

All-natural, no-preservative vegetable oils like these have to be babied because exposure to air makes them prematurely spoil.

Plastic isn't airtight, so they bottle these oils in glass-- dark glass to block the oil's other enemy, light.

They seal the bottles with a flow-control cap.

Without preservatives, sunflower, canola, and sesame oils have an 18-month shelf life.

Flaxseed and hempseed oils have to be refrigerated.

Even then, they go bad after just a few months.

You don't have to be a do-it-yourselfer to own a few basic hand tools.

Even the renovationally challenged are likely to posses a hammer, a screwdriver, maybe even a pair of pliers-- if not in a toolbox, then at least crammed into a messy drawer somewhere.

Here's a look at how some hand tools are made.

Every screwdriver and chisel has to have a handle.

This factory makes handles from acetate, a synthetic resin.

These acetate bars are 6 feet long and come in many colors and contours.

They arrive here ready-made.

Workers load the bars onto a machine that feeds them into a lathe.

As the lathe spins, an automated knife cuts one handle after another, rounding off what will be the top of the handle.

Then, it sculpts the other end.

Then, a drill makes the hole into which they'll later insert the blade.

All this takes just a few seconds.

Now the handles travel to their next stop, the dipping machine.

Acetate becomes dull and opaque when it's cut, so the machine dips them in acetone, a chemical solvent.

This brings back their translucence and shine.

It also removes any acetate shavings stuck to the ends.

Here's what the handles look like before the acetone bath.

And here's what they look like after.

The handles air-dry on their way to the next stop on the production line-- printing.

The hot-stamp printer works in conjunction with an ink ribbon.

It applies about 55 pounds of pressure, engraving the product code and brand name, while the heat, about 160 degrees fahrenheit, transfers the ink from the ribbon into the engraved lettering.

The handles are finished, and it's finally time to insert the blades-- in this case, phillips head screwdriver blades.

Blades are made of carbon steel, an automated machine forces them into the handle with about 80 pounds of pressure.

Workers insert chisel blades manually in order to protect their sharp edge.

At the same time, they top the handle with a steel cap to give the chisel extra striking power.

Another common hand tool is the drywall square, also known as a t-square.

They cut two strips of aluminum, the first 4 1/2 feet long, the second 22 inches long.

Then, they apply the markings by silk-screen printing.

Next, they use a bending machine to hold over the top edge of the piece that will form the horizontal part of the "t".

This will allow the tool to hook onto the edge of a drywall panel.

Finally, they rivet the two pieces together.

The drywall square is finished.

Factories can alter the size of the tools they produce to meet their clients' specifications.

Standard screwdrivers have handles measuring 3 1/2 to just over 4 inches long with blades that are 1 1/2 to almost 8 inches in length.

Some screwdrivers, on the other hand, have extra-long blades, while stubby screwdrivers have short handles for getting into tight places.

Then, there are those skinny pocket screwdrivers and precision screwdrivers for jewelers and electronic technicians...

All of which proves there's a tool that's the right size for every job.

We use them to apply and blend our makeup, we use them in a pinch to pry dirt out of tight crevices, and of course, we use them to clean our ears, though doctors say never to insert them into the ear canal.

Cotton swabs are just one of those little things that are really handy to have around the house.

Cotton swabs were invented in 1926 by leo gerstenzang, a polish-born american.

He got the idea from watching his wife clean out their baby's ears using a flimsy toothpick stuck into a piece of cotton.

Leo set out to design a safer device.

He took a thicker wooden stick and wrapped the ends with cotton in such a way that it wouldn't come off and get stuck in the ear.

The leo gerstenzang infant novelty company marketed this invention under the trade name baby gays.

Many cotton-swab makers also produce cosmetic pads.

Both start with bleached cotton.

It arrives at the factory compressed in large bales.

The cotton first goes into a machine called the feeder...

From there, into a machine called the opener, which shreds the bales, pulling the cotton fibers apart.

Next stop, the carding machine.

Its large rollers comb the cotton fibers out.

Then, guided by weight-detecting sensors, it produces a uniformly thick ribbon of cotton called a web.

This web is now ready to be processed into either cotton swabs or cosmetic pads.

To make pads, they layer several webs-- just how many, though, is a closely guarded company secret.

And so is how much pressure they apply to those layers to compress them.

This secret recipe of layers and pressure is what ultimately determines the weight of the pad.

The heavier it is, the higher the quality because it's thicker.

The now-compressed layers of web go through a machine called the slitter.

It cuts the wide roll into several narrower rolls called header rolls.

Each header roll then goes through a machine that stamps on a quilt-like pattern, purely for aesthetics.

Finally, using a punching die, they cut the pads.

On this production run, each pad weighs about 2/100 of an ounce, but the factory can produce whatever weight the client requests.

The cosmetic pads are ready to be packaged.

This client wants them in bags of 100.

The blue light shows the workers the 100-pad cutoff point.

To make cotton swabs, the initial web is divided into four narrower webs, each weighing about 5/100 of an ounce per yard.

Each narrow web travels through a funnel, which transforms its shape from flat to round.

Then, it coils into a barrel.

The swab-making machine then takes cotton strands from two barrels at a time, feeding a line of cotton to each end of the stick.

Like the cosmetic pads, the amount of cotton per stick varies according to the client's specifications.

The stick feeder prepares the sticks.

Then, as we see here in slow motion, the machine cuts the cotton strand and rolls a piece onto both ends of the stick simultaneously.

Just prior, a heating device melted the tips of the plastic sticks so the cotton would adhere.

With wood or cardboard sticks, they glue the cotton on.

The finished swabs are sprayed with an antibacterial solution.

Here's that action in slow motion.

Now in real time-- 2,000 swabs per minute.

Sensors detect any defective swabs and automatically toss them off the production line.

If you look closely, every so often, you'll see one missing.

Finally, a robotic arm grabs the exact number of swabs per box, again determined by the customer's specs, and packages them.

The company's lab does spot checks on its swabs to ensure that the antibacterial solution is working...

And that the products are germfree.


Solid State Drives
Eye Shadow
Limousines
Dead Blow Hammers

The drive in your computer saves and stores your data-- everything from documents to photos to software programs.

The newer generation drives are solid state drives.

They're gradually replacing traditional hard disk drives because they're compact, more durable, and process information much faster.

Just like portable usb drives and camera memory cards, solid state drives store information on several memory chips installed on a circuit board.

Each chip contains highly complex circuitry comprised of electrical pathways 2,000 times narrower than a human hair.

To make those memory chips, they begin with a disk-shaped silicon wafer.

Silicon is a non-metallic natural element that conducts electricity.

It's highly susceptible to contamination, so the production area is virtually sterile to the point of being 1,000 times cleaner than the air in a hospital operating room.

An automated robotic system moves the wafers through more than 800 operations, which take more than a month to complete.

Each wafer receives layer after layer of materials-- some conductive, such as copper, some nonconductive, such as silicon dioxide.

After applying each layer, the machine coats the wafer with a light-sensitive fluid then flashes u.v. light onto it through a glass stencil of the electrical circuitry pattern.

In the areas where the fluid is exposed to the light, the chemicals break down and dissolve.

Where the fluid was shielded from light by the stencil, the materials remain intact, effectively printing the circuitry pattern on the wafer.

Chemical baths then wash away the exposed fluid and material.

Each foot-wide wafer yields hundreds of microchips, which now have to be sliced apart.

The robotic cutting machine covers the wafer with an adhesive film to hold the chips in place while they're being cut loose from each other.

The next machine inserts each clip in a protective plastic housing.

Meanwhile, six circuit boards at a time enter a machine which applies a thin layer of tin alloy solder paste onto the areas where the memory chips and other components will go.

As the boards exit the machine, a robotic arm picks off the components required for each drive from feeder spools and deposits them at their respective locations on the circuit board.

This particular model has 8 microchips, each able to store 64 gigabytes of data, giving the drive a capacity of 5,012 gigs.

The circuit boards now enter a tunnel-shaped oven which melts the solder paste, fusing the components to the board.

The brain of the solid state drive is now complete and ready for the first phase of quality-control testing.

This machine performs an optical scan to verify that every component on the board is set in the right place.

The next machine x-rays the board to verify that each component is securely soldered in the correct location.

A later phase of quality-control testing will verify the drive's performance.

Until now, six circuit boards have been attached to each other.

An automated router now cuts them apart, and workers insert each board into a protective plastic housing.

A slot on the outside of this housing reveals the board's connector by which the drive links to the computer.

Solid state drives come in different sizes.

This particular model is large enough to replace a traditional hard disk drive.

However, many models are smaller, designed to fit where disk drives can't-- for example, in ultra-slim laptops.

Every drive is labeled with its technical specs, model, and serial numbers and so on, along with a barcode for production tracking.

Then they plug the drive's connector into a tester, which, after verifying that everything functions electronically, installs the drive's operating system.

The drive moves to the next station, where it undergoes up to 60 hours of extensive performance testing to ensure that it stores and retrieves data correctly and at target speed.

Packaging is twofold.

First, a foil shield to prevent static electricity from damaging the drive, then a carton, and finally into a shipping box headed for a destination somewhere around the world.

In ancient egypt, both men and women painted their eyes.

It was thought that eye makeup made one less vulnerable to the evil eye, a gaze or stare meant to cause harm.

Today, mostly women wear it.

And of course, repelling evil is no longer a reason to wear eye shadow.

With a palette of eye shadow, a woman can work a certain kind of magic.

Skillful shading can add depth and drama to the eyes.

This makeup can also create the illusion that the eyes are much larger than they really are.

To make eye shadow, they follow specific recipes.

A technician weighs the ingredients, beginning with mica, a mineral that acts as filler.

The next ingredient is zinc stearate.

It's a binder.

A combination of pigments provides the desired color.

These particular pigments are different shades of the mineral iron oxide.

He transfers the measured ingredients to a big blender jar.

As he pours the ingredients, they dust up, and a gas mask keeps him from breathing in the particles.

He places the jar on the blender base, covers the top, and activates the blades.

The blender mixes and grinds the powdered ingredients to a very fine state.

Then it's into a very large mixer.

He adds coconut oil-- just enough for the powdered ingredients to eventually coagulate into a cake form.

More mica is next-- a lot more.

Eye shadow is 80% mica.

This mica is darker to add intensity to the color.

It also has a bit of shimmer.

He latches the lid to contain the ingredients and powers up this high-speed mixer.

Inside, the mixing paddles swivel around for about 15 minutes to thoroughly mix the ingredients.

The eye shadow mixture flows into a plastic bag.

A technician examines it to confirm that the color has been evenly dispersed and that the powder is sufficiently moist.

Another worker now pieces four eye shadow tins in pods on a metal platter.

The platter rotates to deliver the tins to a mixing dispenser that's been filled with the eye shadow ingredients.

The mixer pushes precise amounts through holes in the bottom and into the tins.

A scraper levels off the tops.

The next stop is a press with four circular heads.

A ribbon of fabric keeps things hygienic as the press compresses the moist eye shadow powder and turns it into a cake-like form.

Moving forward, the pods eject the tins, and an automated device pulls them off the machine.

What a difference the compression has made.

No longer a loose powder, the eye shadow ingredients have caked up nicely.

The tins now move into a lane and come up against an abrasive belt that cleans the loose powder from the sides.

A blast of air also gets rid of some of the residual powder.

For one out of every 100 eye shadows produced, a technician does a drop test from a height of 18 inches.

He checks for chipping or damage.

And if he finds any, he'll add power to the press.

For a color test, he brushes some eye shadow onto his arm, beginning with a laboratory standard.

He then applies newly manufactured eye shadow to his arm and compares the two.

It's a match.

And with his approval, the batch is almost ready for retail.

Another worker inserts the tins into more substantial plastic containers with magnets on the bottom to secure them.

She screws the clear caps onto the jars, and the eye shadow is on its way to the cosmetic counter.

They also manufacture entire palettes of eye shadow for a rainbow of choices.

It takes about a day to manufacture eye shadow.

And the result is truly a thing of beauty.

The first stretch limousines, built around 1928, usually transported big bands and their musical equipment.

Luxury sedans with an extended chassis are typically associated with special occasions such as weddings, proms, or a night on the town.

It takes about 475 hours of work and painstaking detail to transform a luxury sedan into a stretch limo.

Workers cut an ordinary-size car in half using cutting wheels.

Before cutting begins, the inside of the car is stripped away, along with other components such as the gas tank and drive shaft.

Workers cut away the inner support structure and cut across the floor of the car with a reciprocating saw.

The car is now completely cut in half.

Workers wheel the back half of the car away from the front half.

They place the back half on the exact spot where the limousine will gradually be assembled.

The construction department employees insert steel frame rails into the front half of the car.

They insert the rails on both sides of the front half before inserting the rails into the back half of the car.

They measure the length of the frame rails to make sure that the frame is square and that the two halves are the correct distance apart to build the limousine.

A worker welds the rails to the frames of the front and back halves of the original car.

They position the drive shaft tunnel, which houses the steel drive shaft and exhaust pipes, and weld it to the original vehicle tunnel.

They position the floor, which is made of galvanized steel, and weld it to the frame rails and tunnel.

They weld the steel roof rails into place.

They connect the new rails to the roof rails in the original vehicle.

A worked welds a vertical side post into place.

With a level, he checks that the post of hardened steel is perfectly vertical before welding the base of the post to the floor frame.

A roof panel made of galvanized steel is put in place.

Workers install the limousine's bar.

They've already installed the steel seat frames.

Next, they install an outer body panel complete with a hardened steel crash bar.

They screw the panel into place.

The screws will be removed once the panel has bonded solidly to the limousine frame.

A worker sprays on three coats of paint, then applies two coats of protective clear coating.

Once the painting process is complete, workers install the laminated safety side glass.

Another worker sprays contact cement on the roof of the limousine in preparation for the vinyl top.

He stretches the vinyl across the roof and with his hand presses the fabric down into the crevices.

Then he carefully trims off the excess.

He presses a strip of chrome molding into place on the top of the vinyl.

Workers in the interior department install the back of a leather seat...

And the leather bench seat.

After reupholstering the original rear seat to match, they return it to its original spot in the back of the limousine.

A systems installer connects the electrical systems for the control center, located behind the driver's seat.

A panel lists relays and fuses.

The original center console is then reinstalled.

A worker installs a video monitor in the limousine.

Next, he rolls out the floor mats.

The acrylic disco bar lighting system is tested.

In just 21 days, the original car is transformed into a luxurious limousine.

With test drives and quality-control checks complete, enjoy a ride in the lap of luxury.

A hammer is one of the most useful tools out there.

The only problem is you have to control the rebound.

That is, unless you have a dead blow hammer.

These tools are accurate and easy to use because this particular type absorbs the bounce.

This facility makes a variety of dead blow hammers.

Some are soft-faced and some are ball-peens, which are used by machinists.

All in all, they come in handy everywhere from nascar racetracks to operating rooms.

To first create the internal structure of the hammer, they drill through a short length of welded steel tubing with a drill press.

The worker drills straight through the tube, creating a hole on both sides.

This tube will become the internal head of the hammer.

The head needs a handle.

A worker places the tube on a jig and then positions a rod on the hole.

A press forces the rod through the tube.

At the next station, a worker places the internal hammer assemblage behind a pane of tinted glass to protect her eyes as she welds the head and handle together.

She only welds the top of the tube so as not to alter the metal.

A machine drills a set of small conical indents in the handle.

Fitting a set of pins inside the mold, these indents will be crucial to the process.

Because the internal handle is round, the urethane exterior could twist on it when the hammer is being used.

To prevent this, a worker welds on a flat tab.

The urethane will lock in place around the tab.

Next, a worker crimps a metal cap on one end of the tube.

This creates an open canister, which the worker partially fills with a crucial ingredient-- hardened steel shot.

He then crimps a cap on the open end, sealing in the shot.

With the head canister done, the core of the dead blow hammer is now complete.

While the basic components are simple, workers must assemble every element with precision.

The mold has a set of pins inside it.

A worker aligns the indents on the metal handle with these pins.

The pins ensure that the internal hammer hangs in a perfectly centered position inside the mold.

Workers secure the mold in a support frame before placing it on a conveyor that will take it through a preheating oven.

Ball-peen hammers are assembled differently.

Instead of crimping a cap on, they screw the face of the hammer onto a threaded tube.

The metal core of the ball-peen is placed in a mold that leaves the metal face and ball exposed.

After the molds go through the preheater, they arrive at the filling station.

A high-speed mix head blends urethane with hardeners and catalysts and pumps the mix through a flexible hose.

A worker uses the hose to fill the molds to the brim with the orange fluid.

She then sends them into the oven, where they'll spend 30 minutes curing at about 300 degrees fahrenheit.

On the other side of the oven, a worker removes the molds from their frames and then releases the newly formed hammers.

Thanks to a special release agent that was sprayed inside the mold, the hammers come out easily.

At the finishing station, workers use a high-speed circular brush to remove the excess material, or flash, produced by the molding process.

This is the most difficult operation in the making of dead blow hammers, and these workers are highly skilled.

When molding ball-peen hammers, the front and back of the head are left exposed.

For performance reasons, this steel is not stainless.

Workers dip the exposed steel in hot wax.

The wax coating will protect the hammer from rust until it's taken off the store shelf and put to use.

Soft-faced ball-peens and sledges are among the 20 models of dead blow hammers manufactured here.

A worker attaches a label which includes all the relevant information and warnings.

The labeled hammers then go in a box ready for shipping.

Dead blow hammers have many applications, from food processing plants to woodworking shops to the oil industry.

Some surgeons even use them to drive artificial hips into place.


Engine Blocks
Jawbreakers
Drum Shells
Drums

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

Engine blocks...

Jawbreakers...

Drum shells...

And drums.

The engine block is the largest single piece of metal in a car and also one of the most intricate.

It houses and links all the engine components, such as the cylinders and pistons, and it contains passages for circulating coolant.

The engine block is where combustion converts into mechanical energy that drives the transmission, propelling the car.

Engine blocks used to be made of iron.

Today, most are made of lightweight aluminum alloy for fuel efficiency.

An engine block is a one-piece component cast from a sand mold.

To make the mold, the factory mixes glue...

And a hardener...

With zircon sand.

This combination of materials can withstand the intense heat of molten metal, but only for one casting.

Each mold is made up of sections called cores that fit together.

To make each core, a machine blows the sand-and-glue mixture into a master mold made of iron.

It injects a gas that activates the hardener, which solidifies the mixture.

This is the base core to which other cores will attach.

The base core travels down an assembly line to receive the other cores.

The next core molds the engine-block cylinder bores, which will house the motor's pistons.

A robot inserts iron liners into six holes in the core.

They prevent the aluminum walls of the bores from wearing out from abrasion.

The base core receives 17 other cores.

The ones for engine-block areas through which oil will flow are coated with talcum powder.

This keeps sand particles from sticking to the aluminum and getting into the oil.

The machines glue certain cores so they'll stay intact when the robots flip them upside down and attach them to the rest.

These are the last two cores.

The mold is now fully assembled and ready for casting.

Workers load aluminum ingots into a device called an elevator bucket.

It positions them above the jet melter-- a gas-fired furnace.

The bucket drops the ingots into the fire that's 1,500 degrees fahrenheit, liquefying the aluminum.

Just before casting, they heat the cylinder-bore liners using high-frequency electric current.

Aluminum will bond better to hot metal.

They fill the molds from the bottom to avoid contaminating the metal with aluminum oxide.

Oxide forms when molten aluminum comes into contact with the air.

Pouring into the top of the mold would expose the metal to oxygen, and the pouring action itself would mix in the oxide.

After the casting, the mold spends six hours in what's called a thermal sand reclaim oven.

That breaks down the glue so the sand falls away.

The heat also strengthens the metal.

The cast aluminum engine blocks emerge, needing just some minor finishing.

Robots turn them upside down to spill out loose sand.

Machines saw off the risers-- extra metal that fed the mold cavity to compensate for the 7% shrinkage that occurs when liquid aluminum solidifies.

Finally, computer-guided tooling equipment performs a rough machining of the metal.

This brings the engine blocks to a near-finished state.

The engine plant that buys them does the final machining before installing the engine parts.

Every engine block this factory produces passes through an automated vision system that inspects the engine block to ensure they have no defects whatsoever.

Jawbreakers, also known as gobstoppers, have preoccupied candy lovers for decades.

You pop one in and slowly suck or chew through up to 10 layers of colors and flavors.

Sometimes there's bubble gum in the middle for an even longer-lasting finish.

The larger ones are just for show.

Most jawbreakers are about the size of a golf ball.

To make their bubble gum centers, a worker blends synthetic rubber with powdered resin, which will dissolve the rubber.

He adds a thickener, a preservative, and an oil called soya palm stearin so the candy won't stick to your teeth.

After mixing and steaming at 300 degrees fahrenheit for four hours, the batter pours into trays to cool.

Sugar, coloring, and flavoring would deteriorate in the heat, so workers add those later.

There's enough of this base to make gum centers for 450,000 small jawbreakers.

After 24 hours, the batter is hard.

Workers chop it up and blend it with corn syrup to make it softer and sweeter.

They add just under 100 pounds of finished gum that didn't make it into jawbreakers before because it wasn't the right shape.

Now they add natural and artificial flavors, which can include lemon, orange, strawberry, grape, even tutti-frutti.

Then they add icing sugar.

It makes the gum smoother to chew than regular sugar would.

Workers dump the batch into an extruder that shapes two continuous streams of batter, called rope.

Another extruder divides each rope into six hollow tubes.

The cavity inside will become pockets of air inside the gum centers.

The next machine slices the tubes into segments that are three feet, three inches long.

A mechanical arm pushes the segments into the channel of a forming machine.

Steel rolls then slice through the tubes and shape them into balls.

The balls range in diameter, depending on the size of the jawbreakers being produced.

Air blows through perforations in a cooling tunnel to cool and firm the centers.

Then they fall into another forming machine, which restores their round shape.

Other jawbreakers have hard candy in the center.

The machine that makes them works like the presses drug companies use to make pills.

It feeds candy powder into dies, then applies up to five tons of force to compress the powder into a solid candy.

Now for the rest of the jawbreaker.

First, they dump the candy centers into what's called a coating pan.

They add a hot mixture of water, corn syrup, and food coloring...

Then dextrose, a type of powdered sugar.

The pan rotates for 20 minutes as warm air dries the ingredients over the centers.

The factory repeats this step 10 times for each layer.

Talk about a sweet ordeal-- making a jawbreaker takes four days.

Workers give this batch special treatment.

They speckle these jawbreakers with different colors, giving them what this company calls the psychedelic look.

After letting the candies dry for 24 hours, a worker adds pinches of powdered carnauba wax.

This gives the jawbreakers a shiny finish.

Sliced open, you can see these jawbreakers have 10 layers of flavors and sugar surrounding either hard candy or bubble gum cores.

They measure 2 1/4 inches in diameter-- as big as a billiard ball.

And if you're counting calories, forget it.

A jawbreaker is 90% sugar.

Almost every culture has used drums in some way.

Drums have been a part of different civilizations for thousands of years.

The earliest drum shells were hollowed-out logs or gourds.

Different sizes created different sounds.

Today, drum shells are more sophisticated and consistent.

To make drum shells, they slice an enormous rock maple log into several boards.

Maple is ideal for making drum shells because its hardness allows sound to resonate fully.

Each of these maple boards will be transformed into one drum shell.

Workers feed the boards to a ripsaw, which cuts them to the correct width.

This varies depending on the size of the drum being made.

Then each board goes into a planer, which shaves it thinner.

A worker aligns the board with markings on a saw table.

This positions the board to be cut to the correct length.

A radial arm saw does the job neatly.

Now he sizes up each board in preparation for tapering.

He places a board on an angle in a jig and then moves the end against a router cutter to taper it.

It takes a few passes to get it just right.

The taper needs to be about six inches long.

He thins the other end of the board to the same dimension.

These tapered ends will make it easier to bend the wood into a drum shape later.

They'll also act as scarf joints which will fasten the ends of the board together when it's bent round.

But first this board needs some softening up.

An hour in the steam box does the trick.

It's pliable enough to wind around a hot cylindrical form.

Steel banding secures the board to the bending form, where it will spend 10 to 15 minutes.

A worker pries apart the ends...

And applies a generous amount of glue between the tapered tips.

Then he removes the shim that was holding the ends apart, so that they stick together.

He places a wooden guard over the glued joint.

This nylon mesh band is a clamp.

He wraps it around the drum shell and turns a screw to pull the band tightly around the wood until it reaches 14 inches in diameter.

Then he fastens over a dozen steel clamps onto the joint.

All these clamps will prevent any gaps from occurring in the joint as the glue sets overnight.

With the joint sealed, the drum shell now spins while a cutter shaves down the edges to make it a true round shell.

Then they bring in another cutter.

It bores into the shell, making a smooth edge and rounding the inside.

He turns the drum shell around to cut it from another angle.

As the shell spins, a high-speed cutter shaves the outside from top to bottom.

This makes the surface very smooth.

It takes about a week to make a drum shell from solid wood, and it will be able to stand up to some loud playing.

There's more than one way to beat a drum, and there's more than one way to make one.

Earlier, we showed you how they create a drum shell from a maple plank.

But a newer technique involves layering multiple plies of wood.

This process is called laminating, and you can hear the difference.

The laminated drum is an instrument of change.

Its sound is crisper than a drum crafted from a single piece of wood.

To make one, they layer 11 sheets of maple.

Here, a worker glues on the final ply using a special adhesive.

This outer layer is a luxurious bird's-eye maple.

Rollers press all the layers together to ensure they stick without any gaps.

Then they cut through the overlap to create a perfect seam.

A robotic drill now takes over.

It drills holes of various diameters.

The small ones will hold hardware.

This larger one is an air vent.

A computerized router then cuts the bearing edges to a 45-degree angle, and a worker sands it smooth.

He uses a level surface to ensure that all the edges are perfect.

If they're not, the drumheads won't fit properly.

He applies an adhesive to the air hole and inserts a plastic vent.

Next, he inserts brackets, called lugs, into the other holes and screws them in.

There are 10 lugs, spaced 36 degrees apart.

They'll hold the rods that will attach the heads to the drum shell and also enable the drummer to adjust the tension on the heads.

Here he attaches a lever to control wires, called snares, that are to be strung across the bottom head.

It's called a snare strainer.

Then he fits a plastic drumhead over the bottom of the shell.

The counter hoop goes on next.

It has little tabs which he aligns with each lug.

He slides tension rods into the holes in the tabs.

Using a drum key, he tightens the head to an even tension across the shell.

Now he blasts it with a heat gun to shrink the plastic and remove any wrinkles.

Now he places another plastic head on the top bearing edge.

Since this head is the one that gets played, it's twice as thick as the bottom one.

He places the chrome rim on it and tightens the tension rods.

These brass brackets will hold the snare wires.

He slides them under the snares that are stretched tightly across a jig, putting one at each end.

He measures the length, then solders the snare wires to the brackets.

He snips the wires on both ends...

And unlocks each wire from the holding device.

When he removes the snares, they're held together by the brackets.

He slides a nylon strap into one of the brackets, then attaches the strap to a fixture just above the bottom head.

The other end of the snare is attached to the strainer-- the lever that will apply tension and release it, controlling its distinctive buzz.

For a bigger sound, there's the bass drum.

It's made with wooden hoops.

They attach the hoops to the drum shell with steel claws.

As they screw the claws to the hoop, the drumhead is pulled just tightly enough to produce that low-pitched bass drum sound.

Now it's off to be played.


Firefighter Helmets
Nautical Compasses
Packaging Tubes
Hand Saws

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

Firefighter helmets.

Nautical compasses.

Packaging tubes.

And handsaws.

In the early 1800s, luggage maker henry gratacap created one of the first firefighter hats.

The leather helmet had a long rear brim and curved sides as a shield against falling debris and water running down the neck.

Except for a few high-tech additions, this basic design is still used today.

Leather is surprisingly flame-resistant.

When reinforced, it also becomes a remarkable hard hat, protecting from heat, liquids, and sudden impact.

On this newer model, the accessories shield the eyes and ears, too.

A helmet starts with four die-cut leather sections.

They sew them together to make what's called the skull of the helmet.

This piece will become the brim of the helmet.

To give the skull structure, a worker folds and sews each section, then flattens the crease with a special hammer.

He uses a template to score a sewing line in the leather.

Then he uses a powerful sewing machine to join the sections together.

He now joins the two halves together, reinforcing them with double stitching.

The resulting eight ridges give the skull stiffness and strength.

He stretches the leather over a plastic mold and trims excess leather from the ridges.

Then he clamps four vise grips to the rim.

These attach to a hydraulic jack that stretches the skull overnight.

After applying glue to the ridges, he runs them through compression rollers for a tight bond.

They wet the brim piece several times to make it more pliable.

Then they stamp it with the design used by this company since 1846.

But first, a worker inserts a wire that will give the brim some structural support, then a temporary plastic cover and a lid to ensure an even spread of pressure across the brim.

She stuffs the edges of the leather inside before the press applies 10 tons of force to imprint the design.

Next, a worker sews the skull to the brim.

He removes the excess leather at the base of the skull...

And cuts out the center of the brim.

Then he removes the plastic mold.

To seal the leather, they dip the hats in a vat of hot rosin, a type of tree sap.

After 55 minutes, they remove them and let them dry at room temperature for eight weeks.

This slow-drying process makes the leather about as hard as wood.

Drying it mechanically would make it brittle.

Now for the inside.

They insert a plastic cap to reinforce the structure.

The fit is intentionally tight, so they use a mallet to tap it into place.

Inside that they add another plastic cap with nylon straps to resist the impact of falling objects.

Here a worker uses an acetylene torch to burn off any loose threads and soften the leather in order to bend the brim and straighten the ridges later on.

Turning up the sides is basically for aesthetics, but the longer edge in the back is to direct water away from the neck.

After adding a synthetic, fire-retardant liner, he sands the outer surface to prep it for painting.

First, a fire-retardant chemical primer.

Then they use a semigloss latex paint in firefighter's black or white for the chief...

Or, if you prefer, a clear varnish to show off the natural leather.

Add a front piece with the firefighters' signature brass eagle on top and some fluorescent stickers for extra visibility, and you've got the right headgear for a hero's job.

For more than 1,700 years, the compass has been helping people find their way.

It was first developed in china, but when the far east met the far west, european sailors adopted the technology, using it to chart their own courses.

To make a nautical compass, they use this device to magnetize a special metal alloy.

A technician slips a retainer ring onto a jig and positions the magnet on top of it.

She places an aluminum skirt over the magnet.

This will support the compass dial, which goes on next.

She inserts a pivot needle in the center, which will allow the dial to rotate.

Then she press-fits all the pieces together.

She carefully inspects the fit, and it looks solid.

She sprays a chemical cleaner into the pivot cavity.

It has to be spotless because any dirt would impede its function.

She also cleans a little jewel post that contains a tiny sapphire.

Then she fixes the jewel post in the dial.

The jewel post will support the dial while allowing the pivot needle to move easily as it's pulled by magnetic forces.

She places the dial on a machine that mimics the earth's pull.

It's a crucial step because magnetic force varies depending on where you are in the world.

She brushes a weighted paint onto the back of the dial to counteract the pull.

This balances the compass dial, preventing false readings due to differences in the planet's magnetic force.

These are lubber lines--  little direction markers.

She inserts them into holes in a jig.

Then she lines them up with holes in an aluminum gimbal pan and press-fits the lubber lines to the pan.

Now she inserts two pins into the gimbal ring that allow the ring to flip around the gimbal pan.

Then she attaches the compass dial to the gimbal assembly.

The technician spray-paints the metal compass bowl black and pops a rubber diaphragm into it.

A bronze ring will hold it in place.

This flexible rubber liner will contain the compass fluid and allow it to expand and contract.

She snaps the dial and gimbal setup to the bowl.

She just has to bend a little tab to level it out.

She positions an acrylic dome on top.

Using another jig, she puts a rubber o-ring over the dome to seal it, followed by a metal collar.

With a power screwdriver, she anchors these pieces to the rest of the compass.

Then she pumps fluid into the bowl, filling it right up to the dome.

The fluid makes the numbers on the dial look bigger.

Next, they magnetically charge two metal rods and install them in a compass base.

They'll compensate for magnetic fields on the boat.

She mounts a big metal housing unit on the base.

Then she attaches shock absorbers to cushion the compass against engine vibrations.

She installs the compass in the housing and taps the dome to test the shocks.

A decorative aluminum cover fits around the dome.

Then she installs a light to allow the navigator to see at night.

She attaches iron spheres, another tactic to counter magnetic interference.

Our journey through the plan is now over, and the compass is ready to be used.

Artists first used flexible metal containers for their paints back in 1841.

Nowadays, we use them for a range of things, like toothpaste, glue, and skin cream.

The tube's design lets us squeeze out most of the product and yet still read that important fine print on the twisted package.

These packaging tubes are made of aluminum because it's affordable, lightweight, and malleable.

This company makes each tube from an aluminum slug about the size of a coin.

A worker dumps a batch of slugs in a container, then adds a lubricating powder called zinc stearate.

The container spins, causing the powder to coat the slugs evenly and prep the metal for stretching later on.

The slugs then spin around in another container, which orients them horizontally so they'll fit through a channel at the bottom.

The channel feeds the slugs into a forming press.

In a process called impact extrusion, each slug moves onto a die, which gives it the exterior shape of a tube, including the neck.

At the same time, a mandrel forms the interior.

This process hardens the metal, something they'll correct later on by heating it.

The machine applies 200 tons of pressure to as many as 150 slugs per minute.

They can be as narrow as a half-inch and as long as 8 1/2 inches.

This machine uses compressed air to align the tubes for the next step.

A trimming machine cuts threads into the necks by passing each one between two synchronized rollers.

Stationary blades trim the top of the neck, making the surface smooth and safe to handle.

The neck on most models remains sealed until the consumer pierces it.

Another company eventually seals the tube by rolling up the other end after they've inserted their product.

After heating them to soften the metal, the tubes move through another machine.

Here nozzles spray the inside with two coats of epoxy lacquer.

This creates a protective barrier between the aluminum and the eventual contents.

Rollers apply a coat of polyester enamel paint, which is flexible when dry and resistant to most solvents and sun damage.

Grippers place the tubes on long pins, which move them through an oven for seven minutes so the paint can dry.

From there, it's off to the printing machine.

Each tube makes one complete rotation against a printing plate.

The plate applies a colored image and information that describes the tube's contents.

Then they go back in the oven to dry the ink.

The printing's legible even when twisted because the polyester ink remains flexible.

Another machine applies 2.2 pounds of torque to screw on the plastic caps.

Most of the caps have pointy tops, used to pierce the sealed neck of the tube.

They use flat caps to close off tubes with open necks.

On the next machine, nozzles spray on a strip of latex sealant inside the open end of the tube.

The latex is like a gasket.

After the product is inserted, it seals the tube when they fold the end over.

After a machine packs boxes with an average of 300 tubes each, a worker inspects the inside of every tube.

A bright spotlight reveals any chip in the paint that makes the packaging deficient.

About one in every 500 tubes is flawed.

A sheet of sticky paper over the open ends of the tubes keeps them from twisting during shipping, and a label on the box provides tracking information and a way to show if someone has tampered with it en route.

Empty, each tube sells for about 12 cents each, a great bargain for such a useful item.

Even though it was invented thousands of years ago, the handsaw is still used today.

You'll find it at every building site, always at the ready.

Power tools are higher-tech, but the handsaw has a basic appeal.

It doesn't need an extension cord and almost never breaks down.

It's a time-tested building tool.

Handsaws come in many sizes.

To make them, a machine uncoils steel and draws it into a mechanized punch.

The punch works at a blurring speed to cut teeth in the steel--  140 notches per minute.

Here it is in slow motion.

It makes two cuts for each sawtooth.

A reel takes up the newly serrated steel and then will feed it back to cut teeth on the other side.

Next, a fingerlike device unrolls the steel and pushes it to automated jaws.

The jaws bend the teeth, alternating the direction of each one.

Here's a slow-motion look.

This is called setting the teeth, and it will allow the handsaw to operate smoothly.

Now a die punch cuts the steel coil into pieces called double blanks-- double because two saw blades will be made from them.

The die also makes holes in one end of the double blank for attaching handles.

They feed the double blanks to a sheer machine.

A long blade descends and cuts it in half on the diagonal, making two saw blades.

Finally, they press the saw blades up against a sand belt to smooth out the edges.

This is called deburring.

Here they're making a higher-end saw blade.

They flush a piece of steel with coolant as a machine plunge-grinds it to make teeth.

This method is more time-consuming but results in a superior tool.

Again, they set the teeth, but this time, mechanical jaws do the job a blade at a time, rather than working on one long coil of steel.

The sawteeth will need to be strengthened in order to perform, so rollers move the blades to an electrical coil.

Within milliseconds, the temperature of the blade shoots up to 1,600 degrees fahrenheit.

This tempers the steel.

The blades drop off the conveyer into a bin.

Here's a look at a blade before heat-treating.

And this is after.

The black burn line is a sign this saw can take the pressure.

A conveyer wheel dunks them in a pool of clear protectant.

This will keep them looking shiny.

When they're dry, the blades undergo a trademark technique.

They place one on a table.

It rises and a squeegee silk-screens the company name onto it.

At this point, the ink is still wet.

They spend 30 seconds in an infrared oven-- enough time to bake on the brand name.

They slide cardboard sleeves over the blades, and now it's time to attach the handle.

A worker fits two plastic parts together and places them on a carousel.

An ultrasonic sealer moves in.

It emits a high-frequency sound, and the vibrations melt the two plastic pieces together, forming a handle.

A worker fits the handle onto a blade, and a machine rivets it in place.

Some saws have wooden handles.

Because riveting could split the wood, they bolt it on with screws and rivnuts.

And now you have the finished product.


Aluminum Screw Caps
Chocolate
Pills
Pasta

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

Aluminum screw caps-- we'll pop the top off this manufacturing secret.

Chocolate-- there's nothing like the taste of sweet success.

Pills-- watch as directed.

And pasta-- we'll visit a factory that churns out oodles of noodles.

Twisting off an aluminum screw cap may lack the style and sophistication of uncorking a fine bottle of wine.

But as devices go, these caps are one of the easiest ways to put an airtight seal on a bottle or jar, and the added bonus is that they're entirely recyclable.

There are hundreds of everyday objects that are capped.

This plant makes 250 million metal screw caps yearly in 12 different sizes.

The caps are made from these 11-square-foot sheets of aluminum weighing one pound.

Some 3,500 thin aluminum sheets pass through this feeder.

They begin by coloring the aluminum sheet with a colored varnish--  a lacquer and an ink.

Then 12 minutes of drying is needed.

The colored sheets set off on a conveyor for drying.

Then designs are produced.

The coloring is applied by this varnisher.

The aluminum sheets pass through the varnisher one at a time.

Here we see the sheet printed.

Above are the colors used.

They are highly colored inks that adhere well to metal.

Suction cups grab the sheets and send them toward the transport system of the punch press.

This press will give the caps the required shape.

But the caps have to be machined in successive steps by molds, such as this one.

The punches first cut the caps.

Over 500 caps a minute can be produced.

The blades of the punches are made of carbide, a very hard metal that can cut tens of millions of caps.

At the exit point of the punch press, the caps are formed, but don't yet have the right dimension.

This stretching press performs the last two cold-forming steps so that the tube will have the required length.

Now for the second stretching.

This achieves the desired diameter.

When the cap exits the press, it will finally have the desired dimensions.

At this point, the cap now has the required shape.

The caps now have to be decorated to the client's requirements.

The lateral imprint is made with this silk-screen-type decorator which colors some 100 caps in 60 seconds.

The decorator uses an ink specially formulated to adhere to metal.

The caps will then dry in a warm-air oven.

The dried caps are ejected and fall into a container.

This other flexographic type of decorator prints 155 caps a minute.

We can clearly see the ink roller, which imprints the side of the caps as they rotate against it in a steady stream.

All that's required now is to form the cap and make the cut.

The profiling and jointing machine makes the cuts and reliefs on 200 caps per minute.

Machining the cap takes but a fraction of a second.

They sometimes have to assure the watertightness of a container such as a wine bottle.

For this, a polypropylene liner is inserted, which hermetically seals the container.

A check is carried out under a light to verify whether the cut has been properly made and the ridges well-formed.

At last, the final steps-- this screw-tightening machine hermetically seals the caps onto the bottles.

The 250 million screw caps made here each year call for the machining of 1,000 tons of aluminum.

Working in a chocolate factory-- talk about a childhood fantasy.

Well, "how it's made" is about to take a bite out of one of the all-time great dream jobs.

Just beware of the occupational hazards-- stomachache, weight gain, and cavities.

These delicious chocolate confections are made from melted chocolate flowing into molds.

The master molds are first made of wood or plaster of paris.

They are then reproduced as copies in an epoxy material.

To allow them to become flexible and give them the desired shape, the sheets of epoxy are first heated to 350 degrees.

The epoxy sheet is then placed onto the original molds.

The sheet is heated, then lifted off.

Suction from a vacuum system makes it adhere perfectly to the shapes of the molds.

Here we see the epoxy adhering to the master molds.

Still hot and malleable, the plastic has to be cooled.

A jet of compressed air effectively lowers its temperature.

The mold undergoes a visual inspection to make certain of its quality.

And now we move on to the chocolate.

This melting unit, whose shell is fed by boiling water, is like a double boiler and melts 1 1/2 tons of chocolate in 12 hours at about 100 degrees.

The ready-to-be-filled plastic molds are placed onto a conveyor.

Filling is done automatically.

Liquid chocolate runs directly into the molds.

This particular machine produces 400 hearts a minute.

The hearts are filled with a concoction of chocolate, cream, and coffee that has been brewed for several minutes.

It takes 20 minutes for the chocolate to set as the molds move along on this 9-level conveyor.

Well-hardened, the hearts arrive at the unmolding point.

The molds are turned over, and a rod lightly taps them on the bottom to allow the chocolates to fall out without being broken.

The chocolates fall out onto a sheet.

As soon as they've been emptied, the molds return to the starting point on the line to be newly filled.

During their transport on the line, the chocolates complete their cooling and hardening.

Now they're going to be prepared for packaging.

Packaging depends on customers' preferences.

The chocolates can be sold in bulk or placed in boxes.

Here, 185 hearts are put into each box.

Like the pure chocolate, white chocolate comes in as slabs before melting.

Milk chocolate is often delivered in the form of one-inch pastilles.

Some chocolates are hollow.

They have to be molded in two halves.

These chocolate bears need special decorations applied by hand before the pouring of liquid chocolate.

This decoration is made of white chocolate with an added colorant.

In just one hour, they will make 1,200 bears.

They're made by joining two hollow chocolate halves.

The assembly is done using a refrigerated rotating machine.

This machine turns the molds a full 360 degrees on two axes and vibrates the chocolates to prevent the formation of air bubbles.

The chocolates rotate for five minutes before being sent to the cooling conveyor, where they will remain for another 20-minute period.

And now they're ready.

At this point, the bears are unmolded, and they head off for packaging.

Each year, this company processes 550 tons of pure chocolate.

Many thousands of products are made here using 400 different molds in a variety of sizes.

Now, here's a topic that's easy to swallow-- how drug companies make the pills we take.

It's a carefully-monitored process in which quality control is paramount.

So stand by-- we're going to give you a taste of your own medicine, or at least what goes into making it.

Medications are essential in the treatment of illnesses.

It begins by a grinding process where the active ingredient in a tablet or pill is ground and mixed with a binding agent.

The quantity of the ingredient needed to be ground is transported to the dryer in this container.

Like all the other equipment, this container is made of stainless steel so as not to contaminate the product.

The temperature of the dryer and the airflow are programmed with this interface.

The granulation has to be dried at around 100 or 120 degrees before being shaped into the desired tablet form.

Molding of the pills is done by this press, which crushes the powder.

The press exerts a pressure varying between two and five tons.

Here's how the molding is done-- the press magazine distributes the powder in molds made of steel disks.

Two stampers, one above and the other below, crush the powder and form the pill.

Here the press operates at full capacity.

It can produce 5,000 pills per minute.

Quality testing is carried out on 5 pills every 15 minutes.

Their hardness is verified with this apparatus in which jaws crush it with a force varying between .

3 and 3 psi, or pounds per square inch.

The pills must now be coated so that they won't crumble.

A coating solution made of water and coloring pigments is used.

This is the coating unit.

It can hold 350 pounds of pills.

Three plastic tubes, strategically positioned, will spray the solution onto the pills in motion.

The quantity of dry pills to be coated is put into the unit.

Then the door of the coating unit is carefully closed.

A drum turns inside the unit, tumbling the pills.

Then nozzles spray the solution in the form of a mist that quickly dries, preventing the pills from sticking to one another.

This spraying operation lasts 40 minutes.

Here we can compare pills.

On the left are those made only of powder, while on the right are the spray-coated ones.

The finished pills move down a chute to enter a counter prior to filling bottles.

They are lined up in grooves to make filling easier.

The quantity of pills to be placed into bottles is controlled by this automated unit connected to the counter.

In this instance, 500 pills are poured into each bottle.

This plant also makes capsules where the ingredient is not crushed, but encapsulated in a gelatin casing.

The distributor places the two halves of the capsules in the proper position for filling, with the wider half situated above.

The top and the bottom portions of the capsule are separated.

The lower half is then filled with powder.

When well-filled, the two halves of the capsule are joined together.

The completed capsules are then ejected from the filling unit.

Then, via centrifugal force, they are positioned for the packaging process.

The weight of each capsule is verified by this counter.

Each capsule must have the precise weight.

The final step is packaging.

A sheet of transparent pvc is heat-embossed, forming an impression to receive capsules.

Then a preglued aluminum foil sheet is adhered to the back side, sealing everything in.

This plant turns out millions of pills and capsules every year.

Ever since marco polo brought the noodle back from china some 700 years ago, pasta has earned its place on tables around the world.

Pasta comes in an array of shapes and sizes, like the diehard pasta lovers who just can't seem to get enough.

Pasta is actually chinese in origin.

When marco polo returned to venice in 1295 after spending 24 years in the far east, he brought back with him chinese pasta noodles.

Pasta became popular so quickly that by the 15th century, it occupied a prime position in italian cooking.

In this same era, commercial production began in naples.

Italians today favor macaronis and raviolis with garlic and cheese.

Pastas are generally made from semolina and water.

These silos contain more than 33 tons of semolina, derived from durum wheat.

The semolina heads toward the high-speed premixer, where it will be vigorously mixed with water for 5 to 10 seconds.

This machine can treat between one and two tons of semolina per hour.

The dough is extracted from the premixer and falls into a first-blade mixer open to the air.

Then the dough goes into this vacuum-blade mixer.

The mix is now ready to go through the brass molds.

Here's a spaghetti mold and a mold for mafalda-- very narrow lasagna.

Here are molds used to make lined shells...

And stars for soups...

As well as cresto di gallo.

The dough is injected into the mold under pressure.

This rotating blade machine cuts some 12,000 rotinis per minute.

That's 720,000 per hour.

With the dough being still quite fresh, the rotinis are soft.

They will dry somewhat on this plate.

Now we move to the lasagnas.

The dough goes through this brass mold, and the strips of fresh dough, 42 inches long, are placed on these sticks to dry at 150 degrees.

They dry vertically so as to retain their nice, flat shape.

After drying for 15 hours, the strips are then cut in four-- thus making four strips measuring about 10 inches each.

To minimize losses and make cutting the dry lasagna easier, scissors trim the dough pieces into equal lengths on the sticks.

The long lasagna-drying process begins.

Once dry, the lengths of lasagnas are finally cut.

They're now ready for packaging.

To make some of the other pastas, the mix has to be worked a bit more in order for it to have the required shape.

The dough goes through this roller, which gives it the desired thickness.

And now butterflies are formed.

This mold cuts 7,500 of them a minute for a total of 450,000 an hour.

The sheet of dough is two feet wide.

It is produced in a steady stream and goes right to the cutting mold.

The butterflies fall onto this conveyor to dry somewhat.

Then they head toward the next production step.

Certain short pastas, such as these butterflies and fusillis, have to be dried, so they're then put into this full dryer.

Coming out of the dryer, the pastas are hard and ready for packaging.

Here we see the ever-popular spaghettis being made.

As with lasagnas, spaghettis are also dried vertically.

Now this automated machine places the spaghettis onto a cutting table and breaks them to the proper length.

The spaghettis are now ready for packaging.

Exact quantities to be bagged are determined by computer.

Then the spaghettis go gently down the chute.

The amount of spaghetti going into each bag is transported and emptied out by this moving container.

To make filling easier, the spaghettis are properly positioned by this chute.

In just one minute, this machine can package 10 8.8-pound bags.

Whenever needed, it can handle up to 60 bags a minute.

Pastas are a favorite meal the world over.

This plant makes over 100 different products and every day uses between 60 and 360 tons, or between 2 and 12 truckloads of semolina made from hard wheat.


Old West Holsters
Underwater Video Housings
Soy Beverages
Pet Nail Trimmers

In the days of the american wild west, you didn't leave home without a gun.

Both the sheriffs and outlaws carried guns and ammunition.

It was important to have your gun easily accessible.

Wearing a holster around the waist putts a gun in the perfect position for a quick draw.

These handcrafted leather belts and holsters are modeled after those made in the late 1800s.

They're made for movies, cowboy shooting competitions, and historical reenactments.

A craftsman starts by using a press and a series of dies to cut out out the holster and belt components.

This is vegetable-tanned leather, the only type of leather that's flexible enough to carve or stamp.

He lays a paper template over one end of the holster piece and marks tiny dots with an awl.

He connects the dots with a straight line using a small knife.

He punches a hole at each dot.

The lines and holes form two wide loops.

Next, he carves a groove for stitches along what will be the main seam of the holster body.

He sprays water onto the leather to soften it.

He makes decorative lines with a compass.

Then, he imprints a design into the leather by striking a stamp with a mallet.

Because the leather is moist, it compresses easily, assuming the shape of the stamp.

These stamps are modern-day copies of the ones used in the late 19th century.

A rosette is a common motif of that era.

He uses one tool for the outline, one for the petals, and another for the center of the flower.

Then, he adds details with a small chisel-edged knife and stamps on his maker's mark.

He shaves any sharp corners and smoothly finishes the edge.

The holster piece is now cut, embellished, and finished.

The next step is to sew it.

He marks the stitch holes across the bottom where he will later sew the toe plug.

Then, he pierces the holes with an awl.

He soaks some sheep's wool in neatsfoot oil and rubs it in.

This nourishes and conditions the leather, preserving the impressions and enhancing the color.

Once the oil is soaked in, he applies a smoothing solution onto the edges and rubs them with a piece of canvas.

Now the sewing can begin.

He folds one end of the holster piece to form a pouch.

Then, he sews inside the groove he cut for the main seam.

Stitches sunken in a groove are far stronger than surface stitches.

When he completes the seam, he burns the end of the polyester thread with a lighter.

Then, he sews on the toe plug and inserts the pouch into the double loops at the other end of the piece.

Next, he works on the belt.

After piercing stitch holes in the main belt strip, he sews on a thinner, flexible strip, bending it into loops to hold ammo.

He glues on a leather lining to make the belt more durable.

Then, he sews on the billets.

They're the pieces that go on each end of the main belt strip.

One billet has the buckle, and the other has the adjustment holes.

After applying some decorative nickle studs known as spots, he threads the belt through the holster...

And inserts the ammo.

This double-loop holster is a copy of an 1880s holster designed to hold a single-action army pistol.

The craftsman can make several different authentic styles from this era, customizing the holster to carry a weapon of any size or shape.

From ocean wildlife to shipwrecks, the undersea world is breathtaking.

Many recreational scuba divers want to capture what they see on video.

They can do this with an ordinary video camera, encased in a specially designed watertight housing unit.

This underwater housing has remote camera controls and a built-in monitor that shows you what the video camera sees.

At the factory, a computer-guided mill uses a variety of bits to shape a tube of extruded aluminum.

The machine prepares the ends to receive front and back pieces.

It forms a groove for a rubber o-ring to keep water out and makes attachment points on each side of the housing for handles.

Then, the mill cuts the front and back pieces out of two blocks of aluminum.

The machining process leaves tool marks, so they polish the housing parts by putting them in a tumbler full of ceramic stones.

After about an hour of rubbing against the stones, the aluminum is smooth and ready to be anodized.

This process etches, dyes, and seals the metal surface, protecting it from the corrosive effects of salt water.

Next, a computer-guided laser etches in the manufacturer's logo.

Laser etching is far more durable than printing because it bleaches the black anodized surface white so the lettering can't rub off over time.

Several parts of the housing are made of plastic.

Workers pour plastic pellets into an injection-molding machine.

The machine melts the pellets, then shoots the liquefied plastic into a mold.

After about 15 seconds, the machine opens the mold and ejects a newly formed part.

This part is a latch that allows you to open the housing to insert a video camera.

The handles are made of rubber-covered aluminum.

Each of its camera-control buttons has an o-ring around it to keep out water.

The controls are powered by two lithium batteries that sit inside a separate sealed compartment.

When you press a control button, the post underneath it makes contact with electronics inside.

This produces an infrared signal that communicates with the camera through tiny glass windows.

The back of the housing has a built-in lcd monitor, which displays what the camera sees.

Both the monitor and camera plug into the same circuit board.

The handles fasten to the housing with a threaded ring.

There are also holes on top of the housing for attaching a carrying handle.

Before attaching the front and back of the housing, they apply rubber o-rings to keep water out.

Then, they install the flip filter.

It attaches magnetically to a pivot on the inside of the housing and is operated by an arm on the outside.

This filter is essential because water absorbs certain light wave lengths, eliminating the appearance of red, orange, yellow, and green, depending on how deep you go.

To restore these colors in the video, the diver flips the filter over the camera lens.

The factory tests every housing to make sure it's completely watertight.

The tester inserts a video camera and submerges the housing in a water-filled tank.

He pressurizes the tank to simulate the underwater pressure the housing will experience at a depth of about 300 feet.

The housing passes the test only if all the seals hold up and no water leaks inside, ruining the camera.

In addition to a flip filter, divers sometimes use lights to counter the muting effect that underwater depth has on colors.

The housing has attachment points on the handles for mounting lights, enabling the video camera to capture the true vivid colors of the undersea world.

Soy beverages originated in china centuries ago, long before lactose intolerance and dairy allergies.

Recently, this dairy-free drink has become a popular alternative to milk, allowing people to order a latte, but hold the lactose.

It's not milk, but it's a good substitute.

A soy beverage is made from liquefied soy beans.

It has the look and consistency of animal milk, but is an entirely different product.

It starts with a specific kind of soybean, one that has just the right amount of protein and carbohydrates.

They harvest these soybeans when the plants are dry.

Less moisture means the beans will be less prone to spoiling.

They dehull the soybeans and crack them into small bits.

A lift carries the heavy bag of bean bits to a scale to weigh them for processing.

The operator cuts open the bottom of the bag, releasing the cracked soybeans into a hopper.

Here, augers move the cracked beans up to two large grinders.

The system pipes in hot water, and the grinders whip the beans and water into a creamy soy-beverage concentrate.

The beverage travels through steam-heated pipes.

This kills off any bacteria that may have come from the field.

Then, it's into a vacuum chamber for a cooldown.

Most of the manufacturing equipment is sealed from the air to prevent contamination.

The soy-beverage concentrate leaves the vacuum chamber and enters a centrifuge.

It spins out much of the chunky insoluble fiber, leaving smoother, thinner liquid.

The soybean fiber won't be wasted.

It will be used in food products and animal feed.

The soy liquid flows into a big blender.

They pipe in filtered water, add refined sugar, vanilla extract, as well as various vitamins and minerals.

He closes the lid while the blender mixes the ingredients into a frothy soy beverage.

The soy beverage exits the blender and flows into a huge storage tank, where an agitator keeps the various ingredients well-mixed.

The tank is refrigerated to preserve the beverage while it's held for testing.

The operator takes a sample to test the consistency and nutritional value of the beverage.

With his approval, the beverage is released from the tanks.

It flows through pipes injected with very hot steam.

This kills off any microorganisms that may remain.

After a quick cooling, the soy beverage goes into a homogenizer.

It pushes the beverage through small holes to break down the fat, reducing the size of the particles.

The soy beverage accumulates in a sterile tank until it's ready to be packaged.

The soy beverages are packaged without any exposure to contaminants in the environment.

The packaging material is made of a polyethylene laminate.

Machinery takes the laminate up to a steel ring that forms it into a tubular shape.

Hot jaws seal the sides and bottom, then inject the soy beverage and seal the top.

The cartons land on the conveyor on their side.

They're liquid-tight so nothing spills.

Then, a conveyor transfers them to a revolving wheel that turns them right-side-up.

Now that they are oriented correctly, they ride a windy conveyor to a capping station.

Plastic caps land on spouts that have been molded to the packages.

A system of rubber belts screw the caps onto the spouts.

This packaging can preserve a soy beverage for up to a year.

It probably won't be on the shelf for that long because someone is always looking for a dietary alternative.

Dogs and cats have round nails, while humans have flat ones.

Special trimming tools have been developed to give them the perfect pedicure.

Guillotine-style clippers have a hole for the pet's nail and a sliding blade that cuts it so the pet will be back on its feet in no time.

Long nails can damage a dog's foot pads, so they must be trimmed from time to time.

Pets usually don't like having their nails done, but a guillotine-style trimmer can make the experience less of an ordeal.

Its sliding blade trims their nails quickly so it's over before they know it.

Production of guillotine-style pet-nail trimmers starts with a feeder system.

The feeder system uncoils a strip of steel into a punch press.

The press cuts out two handle blanks at once.

It also makes holes for screws and rivets, as well as a hook for a spring.

A second press rounds the handle to make it easier to grip.

Here is a large handle before and after the shaping.

The handle now goes into a third press.

This one folds the tabs down to create a pocket for the blades.

Here is a handle before and after this forming.

Next, a narrow strip of steel unwinds into a press.

The press cuts and shapes it into the main sliding blade.

The half-moon-shaped end will be the cutting edge.

A worker slides the blades onto a rack with the half-moon edge facing downward.

This makes it easier to load the blades into a grinding fixture.

She places two in each slot with the half-moon facing up.

A carriage moves the fixture back and forth under a grinding stone.

It grinds the entire row of blades at once.

This improves the strength and sharpness of the cutting edge.

She inspects every blade to confirm that each one has been ground to the correct profile.

On the left is a blade before grinding and on the right is one after.

She dips the blades in a cleaning solution and rinses them.

This cleaning removes lubricating-oil residue and metal filings.

She transfers the blades to a perforated tray.

She spreads them evenly, switches on an overhead fan, and leaves them to dry for several minutes.

Heat treatment hardens the blades, and polishing finishes them.

Next up is the retainer blade.

It's the one with the hole for the nail.

She arranges the circular blades on a magnetized tray.

The blades cling to the tray as a carriage moves them back and forth under a grinder.

The grinding sharpens the front of the blades and removes scale left by a heat treatment.

This is the retainer blade before and after grinding.

The pet-nail-trimmer parts are ready for assembly.

The employee rivets a metal link for the sliding blade to the smaller handle.

Once the parts have been chrome-plated, another worker hinges the large handle to the smaller one.

He hooks one end of a spring to the metal link.

He inserts the sliding blade into the track in the large handle, lifting the link to hook it into the blade.

He adds the circular retainer blade.

He places a metal plate over the track and screws it in place.

This secures the top blade, while allowing the link to move the sliding blade.

He hooks the other end of the spring to the larger handle and bends the circular blade slightly to give it the correct profile.

Now a worker tests the trimmer on dried buffalo hide.

Dried buffalo hide is tougher than pet nails.

With his okay, this cutting tool is ready for the paws and claws for our furry friends.

The main blade can be replaced if it becomes dull, which means this pet-nail trimmer can be used for many years to come.