Cufflinks
Blueberry Turnovers
Dashboards
Earthenware Pottery

Cufflinks are a fashion trend with definite staying power.

They've been holding shirt cuffs together since the 17th century.

Early versions were buttons linked by short chains, an improvement over the ribbons and pins the gentleman of the day had been using to fasten their sleeves.

Clothes may make the man, but a set of cufflinks can make the outfit.

They add a bit of flash to conservative business garb and convey a sense of occasion.

Buttons may be easier, but cufflinks are about taking the trouble to look really spiffy.

A pair of high-end cufflinks starts with sterling silver, gold, or platinum.

A craftsman cuts out blanks.

These blanks will be used for the fronts of the cufflinks.

He places one of the silver blanks on a die engraved with a recessed grid pattern.

A hydraulic press closes and squeezes the silver blank into the die, transferring the pattern onto the silver.

This company has more than 1,000 cufflink patterns, some of which date back to the mid-19th century.

With these dies, they continue to handcraft cufflinks the traditional way.

Pressing the pattern onto the silver has caused the metal to expand, so he trims the excess from the perimeter.

There's another benefit to this.

The trimming works the silver to harden it...

From a plain silver blank to a cufflink face with artistic expression.

A craftsperson now attaches a silver stem to the back of a cufflink face.

He melts silver solder between the two, and, as it cools, it creates a solid bond.

The stem shape is a slightly curved design to allow the cufflink to sit perfectly on a cuff.

The soldering torch oxidizes and darkens the silver slightly, so he dips the parts in a sulfuric-acid bath.

The acid pulls out the black, and the parts become silvery white once again.

Next, the brass bristles of a revolving wheel make tiny scratches on the silver to brighten it substantially.

Each cufflink now undergoes a very intensive enameling using a mix of finely ground colored glass and water.

Here, the enamelist applies blue glass to the cufflink's stamped grid detailing and then paints yellow around the perimeter.

It takes a steady hand and experience to do an even job.

If one color bleeds into the next, it can't be fixed, and she'll have to scrap this cufflink and start anew.

Then it's into a kiln fired to 1,800 degrees fahrenheit.

The heat melts the glass, and it flows into the detailing to give it definition.

At the same time, the glass fuses to the metal surface.

And then it's back to the artist for another layer of glass.

The enameler will repeat this process between three and seven times to produce a perfect luster and depth of color.

The color deepens with each layer, and the result is a rich, translucent enamel surface.

Leaving the kiln, the enamel is a bit wavy, so the worker files it down until the surface is completely flat and level.

Then the cufflinks go back into the kiln for one last firing.

He polishes the enameled surface against an abrasive wheel, using a mix of volcanic ash and water for a polishing paste.

This takes hours, but it gives the glass enamel a glossy finish.

Now the focus returns to the cufflink stem and the dome spring link fittings that are the closing mechanisms.

He heats a needle-thin wire to make it slightly pliable and then pushes it into the fitting to engage a spring that attaches to the cufflink stem.

With the fitting installed, he clips the excess wire at both ends.

To secure the installation, he hammers the ends of the wire to flare them out, turning them into a kind of rivet.

With the fitting now solidly attached to the cufflink stem, he lightly files the edges with an emery board to give the part a perfectly smooth finish.

He buffs the cufflinks' exposed silver against a cloth wheel and uses a polishing agent to make it really gleam.

After at least six hours of work, these enameled silver cufflinks are now complete.

In the business world, where men usually dress in a suit and tie, a custom set of cufflinks is one way to express individuality but still fit in with the rest of the guys.

A fruit turnover is probably your best bet if you're eating on the go.

It satisfies a sweet tooth, it's portable, and it requires no utensils.

The dough, typically flaky, is folded over, usually into a triangle or rectangle, and the edges are sealed, trapping the fruit filling neatly inside.

These all-natural blueberry turnovers may look and taste like homemade, but, believe it or not, they come frozen in a box.

You just bake them and eat them.

The manufacturer is willing to reveal the ingredients, but the critical proportions, mixing, and heating times are top-secret.

Workers begin making the filling by heating blueberries.

Next, they combine lemon juice and starch in a container...

Then add this mixture to the blueberries.

The starch is white now but will become transparent as it cooks.

They mix some more...

Then add salt.

When the starch is opaque, they add sugar...

And mix some more.

As soon as the temperature of the ingredients reaches 170 degrees fahrenheit, the filling is done.

To make the dough, workers first pour flour into the mixer, then salt.

After a few minutes of mixing, they add butter-- lots of butter.

Once it's well-blended, they add some water.

After a bit more mixing, the dough is ready.

This type of dough is called "pâte brisée," the french term for a butter-based pastry that's extremely light and flaky due to its high ratio of fat to flour.

Now workers weigh out 12-pound portions...

And put them, one at a time, into a dough press with a sprinkling of flour to prevent sticking.

The press compresses the dough into a 10"x16" block that's one inch thick.

Then they line up the blocks on a floured conveyor belt, joining them together to form one continuous sheet of dough.

The dough sheet now enters a press.

Inside, rollers compress the sheet to about a quarter of its original thickness.

The next machine layers the thin dough sheet.

This flour press and layer process repeats over and over again until the sheet is just 1/10" thick yet contains 24 layers.

These layers are what will make the pastry exceptionally light and flaky.

Trimming wheels on the sides make a neat edge.

Diagonally bladed wheels score the dough with small cuts.

And cutting wheels divide the sheet into five strips, each of which will become a row of turnovers.

The next station deposits a line of water droplets along one edge of each strip.

This creates a line of sticky dough.

The preparations are all done, and assembly can begin.

First, with precision spacing, nozzles squirt one ounce of blueberry filling per turnover.

Then a device called a folding plow, because it looks like a farm plow, lifts one edge of the dough and gradually folds it over.

A smooth wheel then presses that edge down onto the sticky line on the other edge.

This seals the open side of the strips.

The culinary choreography ends with a bang, or, rather, a chop, as a guillotine descends, cutting the strips into individual turnovers and simultaneously sealing the front and back ends of each pastry.

The assembled turnovers now go on a 6-minute ride through a nitrogen flash-freezing tunnel.

Temperature--  -183 degrees fahrenheit.

Under a shower of sugar crystals, they exit the tunnel frozen, hard as a rock.

Packaged four to a box, the turnovers remain frozen until you bake them in your oven and serve them up.

A car's dashboard is full of dials and gauges that keep the driver up to speed on everything.

In the time of the horse and buggy, a dashboard was a wooden panel for shielding the driver from mud and water, hence the word "dash," which can mean "bespatter," or "splash".

When motorized vehicles came along, instruments were added, making the dashboard an important source of information.

Today's dashboards tell the driver a lot at a glance.

Ignore the indicator dials, and you could run out of fuel or be slapped with a speeding ticket.

A dashboard for a luxury sports car starts with this aluminum skeleton.

It's been bonded at the joints with adhesive that's stronger than conventional welds.

A technician clips the main electrical harness to the aluminum frame.

He then fixes the heating and air-conditioning unit to the center of the dashboard skeleton and connects it to the wiring.

At the next station, the dashboard's composite substructure is coming together.

Working from the back, the technician installs a glove box and a network of ducts for the heating and cooling system.

The substructure is now ready to join the wired aluminum frame.

He rivets the assembly to the metal structure.

He slots the driver's information module, which includes the speedometer, into the housing.

He equips the dashboard with high-end speakers.

The front-passenger airbag, encased in aluminum, comes next.

The technician inserts it in the molded plastic niche.

Using a computerized tool, he installs the airbag with perfect precision.

Next up is the steering column, with its magnesium shifting paddles and wiper controls already attached.

He slides it into place just under the information module.

He then encases the electronics with plastic cowling.

This both protects the wiring and tucks it out of sight.

He tops off this job with more cowling above.

He adds a hand-stitched leather surround to the dashboard's center console.

He inserts the center stack, which contains the radio, other audio equipment, and temperature-control mechanisms.

More leather adds a luxurious look, smell, and feel to the cabin.

The next technician assembles push-button controls for shifting gears.

He installs them in a veneered fascia through the back to avoid damaging the glossy finish on the front.

He inserts vents for air conditioning and heating above the gear-shift controls, again sliding them into place through the back of the unit.

He secures the vents with screws, then adds the starter assembly.

The satellite navigation system gets the top spot, which will put it within easy eye shot once installed in the dashboard.

With the subassembly almost complete, he flips it around.

It needs one finishing touch-- a chrome and glass casing for the starter.

He slides it into place, and the unit is now ready for the dashboard.

He makes all the right connections and installs the gadget-filled fascia just over the center stack.

He now encases the rest of the dashboard in leather paneling.

This particular panel has a built-in split, so it will part if the airbag deploys.

Next, a technician downloads computer software for all the equipment in the dashboard.

He configures the electronics to the appropriate settings.

He then tests each component, confirming that every instrument and control works perfectly.

This dashboard now joins all the others, ready to take their place in the front of a luxury sports car.

A modern dashboard can define a car's interior space and add serious gadget appeal.

For example, this car uses a distinctive steel and crystal key for the engine ignition.

When the key slot glows red, there's power.

It's time to press a few buttons and see what pops up, like this speaker, for example.

With a high-tech, luxury dashboard, a driver can really travel in style.

Pottery is the catch-all term to describe decorative or functional objects formed from clay, then fired in a large oven called a kiln.

The pottery is then usually painted.

There are several different types of pottery, such as porcelain, stoneware, and earthenware.

Earthenware produced on a larger scale is typically cast in molds.

This longtime british manufacturer is famous for its bold floral and fruit designs that feature raised lines.

At the factory, the moldmaker creates a plaster of paris model of the piece on a lathe, verifying the shape and dimensions with a profile.

He uses the model to cast a two-part production mold also out of plaster, the model shaping the mold cavity.

A caster takes that mold and fills it with liquefied clay called "slip".

Once a layer hardens along the cavity wall, he tips the mold and pours out the excess.

It takes tremendous skill to know how long to let the clay set before tipping.

In about two hours, the clay inside the mold hardens sufficiently to be safely extracted.

The caster now puts the piece into what they call the damp room.

There, overnight, in 100% humidity, the clay fully hardens.

It can now be safely worked on a lathe.

Using specialized turning tools, a highly skilled craftsman applies just the right degree of light pressure to form the piece to the final shape-- in this case, a ginger jar.

After applying the manufacturer's stamp, he mounts the jar on a potter's wheel and, pressing with a wet sea sponge, smooths the surface.

A designer creates the decoration on paper, then sketches it onto a sample jar.

Then she traces her design onto clear cellophane and indicates with red marker lines where the cellophane bends around the jar.

An artisan now takes that cellophane and traces the design with a specially designed ink.

Using the red contour marks as a guide, another artisan positions and presses the cellophane against the jar to be painted.

This transfers the design onto the surface in ink.

The ink will disappear once the piece is fired.

Next, she creates the design's signature raised lines.

The technique is called "tube lining".

She traces the ink lines while squeezing slip through a tiny nozzle.

She uses her artistic judgment to tweak the design if necessary.

Not only does this work require a steady hand, she must also squeeze with even pressure to keep the line thickness consistent.

The jar goes into a controlled drying room overnight and, from there, into the skilled hands of a painter.

With a large artist's brush, she applies just a tiny drop of watery paint.

Then, with another touch of the brush, she soaks up the excess paint.

She uses her finger to gently blend color transitions.

The jar is now ready to be fired in the kiln.

The heating phase lasts eight hours, during which the temperature peaks at 2,000 degrees fahrenheit.

This cures the clay and triggers a chemical reaction in the paint, which produces rich, vibrant colors.

After a 16-hour cooldown, they take the jar out of the kiln and submerge it in glaze, which contains powdered glass.

They coat the painted clay surface thoroughly inside and out.

Once the glaze dries, it's back into the kiln for a second firing, this one overnight at just above 2,000 degrees fahrenheit.

The powdered glass and the glaze melts, forming a solid glass layer over the painted clay surface.

This seals the earthenware so that it's no longer absorbent and therefore capable of containing liquids.

This, of course, is essential for a vase or dinnerware.

Glaze also makes the surface shinier, highlighting the beauty of the artwork.


Tapioca Pudding
Snow Ploughs
Paddle Boats
Fibre Cement Siding

Tapioca pudding is a textural fusion of creaminess and chewy tapioca pearls.

The recipe is at least a century old, and there are conflicting theories about when and where it was invented-- britain or the united states.

With its distinctive chewiness, it brings something entirely different to the table.

Today factories whip up tapioca pudding in big batches.

Times have changed, but the appetite for this pearly pudding hasn't waned.

The proof is truly in the pudding.

The tapioca pearls, of course, define this dish.

The opaque, little balls are processed from a vegetable grown in south america called cassava root.

The recipe also calls for more traditional baking ingredients like whole milk, eggs...

Sugar...

And vanilla.

They pipe the whole milk into a giant mixing kettle.

This kettle has steam-heated steel walls to gently cook the ingredients while blending them.

As the milk froths, the cook measures the tapioca pearls.

The pearls arrive at the factory already processed, formed by grinding the root vegetable into powder and tumbling it to shape it into properly sized pearls.

As the pearls cook in the milk, they will soften and swell to double the size, just like rice.

But unlike rice, they'll take on an almost jellylike, chewy consistency.

He adds sugar to sweeten the mix.

The cook then leaves the swirling and foaming mix to cook for over an hour.

Meanwhile, at another station, they add tapioca starch to a different blender full of milk.

This blender is unheated and has higher speed for mixing that's fast and furious.

He adds eggs...

And he flavors the mix with salt.

The tapioca starch acts as a thickening agent for this separate mix, as the blender whips it to a frothy state.

They transfer the starch blend to the main mixing kettle.

The cook adds a natural food coloring to make the pudding beige along with some vanilla flavoring.

The tapioca pearls are just the right consistency.

This pudding is now fully cooked and ready to move on to the filling line.

They pump it while it's still steaming hot into single-serve plastic cups.

Packaging the pudding while it's still hot is an act of food preservation, which, not surprisingly, is called hot fill.

The hot-fill technique locks in nutrients and ensures freshness, giving the product a shelf life of about 70 days.

Suctioning arms swiftly transfer foil lids to cover the cups, giving the pudding no time to cool down.

With the lids in place, the filler moves the cups forward to meet up with heat-sealer heads.

They fuse the foil lids to the plastic cup rims.

It's taken just seconds to fill these cups with hot tapioca pudding and seal them, effectively preserving them.

The pudding-filled cups now funnel into a lane to position them single file.

Then they travel between rubber belts that squeeze them.

If they can take the pressure, it confirms that the cups are tightly sealed.

A printer sprays the expiration date and other pertinent information onto the cup.

After weighing to confirm there's enough pudding inside, an x-ray machine scans the contents to confirm that there are no contaminants.

Then they're on the way to the chilling line.

Inside the tubs, the tapioca pudding is still hot and fluid.

The cups ride a system of spiraling, refrigerated conveyors bringing the pudding's temperature down to about 100-degrees fahrenheit and thickening it substantially.

The pudding-filled containers now pass through gates that separate them into two lanes and then arrange them in groups of three.

Machinery places one group of three onto another, and then all that's left is the packaging.

Mechanical arms place the paperboard sleeve on the top three cups.

Traveling through a narrow lane, guides fold the paperboard down around the bottom three cups as a sprayer applies hot glue to the flaps.

A worker pulls off one pack of six and sends it over to a panel of testers for an inspection and taste.

They examine the pudding for color and consistency.

They also taste a little from each production batch to confirm that it's sweet enough, that the tapioca beads are the desired texture, and that it meets all other quality requirements.

If they like what they taste, the entire batch is declared ready for retail.

Three hours in the making, this tapioca pudding is now ready to add a little sweetness to someone's day.

A snowplow is actually the big blade on a snow-clearing vehicle-- not the vehicle itself.

The first snowplows were wedge-shaped wooden blades drawn by horses.

As cars replaced horses, these gave way to metal plows mounted to the front of trucks and other large machines.

A snowplow is a blade made of either stainless steel, which is rust-proof, or carbon steel, which they coat in plastic-based powder paint to prevent rust.

To begin making the blade, they take a sheet of metal about 1/10 of an inch thick and insert it in a press.

The press punches out holes for the bolts, which attach the blade to the mounting structure.

Next, they feed the sheet through a rolling press.

The rollers apply 35 to 40 tons of pressure, curving the sheet to the required shape.

Workers check that the front radius and top radius of the curve meet the technical specifications.

Next, using a machine called a press break, they bend over the top of the sheet.

This bend will sit on the top bar of the mounting structure.

The mounting structure is made of several parts cut from giant plates of carbon steel.

A computer guides the cutting machine, which uses electrogenerated flames.

Their intense, focused heat slices through the steel literally by melting it.

The steel is too hot to handle when the plasma cutting is done, so workers lift off the parts with magnets.

Then they bend key, load-bearing parts in a press break to increase the structural strength.

They position the parts for one section of the structure in an assembly fixture and weld them together.

In a different assembly fixture, they position the parts for another section of the structure.

A robot welds those together.

Back at the first assembly, they use pins to attach a spring-loaded component called a trip edge.

It protects the vehicle from damage by absorbing the shock through the springs, rather than through the vehicle frame, should the plow hit an obstacle on the road.

After welding the two sections together, workers send the structure to the powder-coating area.

There, workers spray it first with powder primer then with powder paint.

Each coat is baked to activate the plastic base, which produces an ultra-durable shell over the metal.

Once the structure cools, workers install the springs for the trip edge, then they attach the base of the structure called the cutting edge.

It's made of a harder type of steel because it scrapes the ground.

The structure is now finished and ready to receive the blade.

This one's getting a stainless-steel blade.

The bent top fits over the structure's top bar, the bottom into a slot below.

Workers secure the blade with bolts then finish off the plow with a decal.

For this model, they make two plows like this-- mirror images of each other.

They go side-by-side, connected in the middle by a hinge to form a v-shaped snowplow.

Straight plows have a single blade attached to a different type of structure.

All the parts, except stainless-steel blades, are powder-painted and baked.

The v-plow articulates.

The driver can adjust the width of the "v" to direct the snow.

Another model combines a straight blade with hinged blades for clearing snow in large areas, such as parking lots.

When it comes to these types of machines, there's clearly no business like snow business.

A paddle boat is a small recreational vessel, perfect for a leisurely ride on a lake.

It gets its name from the rotating paddle wheel that propels it.

You simply sit in the seat and turn the paddle wheel by pedaling, which is why this type of boat is also called a pedal boat or pedalo.

Steered by rudder and gliding on two floaters, a paddle boat delivers a smooth, relaxing ride.

Boat mechanics don't get much simpler than this.

In a typical two-seater, two sets of pedals, each powering a paddle wheel at the rear.

The factory molds the top and bottom halves of each floater separately.

First, workers spray the mold with gelcoat, a type of polyester.

This is the floater's surface finish.

Next, they cover the entire mold with fiberglass cloth then add a second layer in the front and bottom where the floater will be a bit thicker.

Then they lower a cover onto the mold, latching it down securely to make the mold airtight.

They draw a vacuum to extract the air trapped inside, then inject liquid resin.

The resin saturates the fiberglass cloth and, within an hour, hardens, producing solid fiberglass, a lightweight material that's both impact-resistant and waterproof.

After extracting this half, workers mold the other half of this floater and the two halves that make up the other one, then they apply fiberglass glue to the edges...

And carefully align and mate top and bottom.

They position spacers to put pressure on the base of the groove, then clamp the perimeter for about 45 minutes until the glue sets.

When the glue is completely dry, they trim the perimeter to make the edge neat and smooth.

To make each propulsion wheel, workers rivet eight blades to a fiberglass hub.

These strong plastic blades do have some flex in them.

This ensures they won't break, should the wheel hit a rock or other obstacle.

The part of the boat where you sit and pedal is called the bicycle.

The two bike bodies, like the floaters, are made of molded fiberglass, then jazzed up with decals.

Since the bicycle mechanics are routinely exposed to water, they must be rust-resistant.

Therefore, the pedal mechanism is made of chrome-plated steel and the chains of steel that's been treated with an anti-corrosion coating.

Each bike has two chains-- the first linking the pedals to one side of a central gear, the second linking the other side of the central gear to the propulsion wheel.

So, once they're both hooked up, pedaling moves the first chain, which rotates the gear, which moves the second chain, which turns the wheel.

Final assembly is relatively simple.

First, workers connect the floaters with three painted aluminum crossbars.

The paint is baked on to make it extra durable.

Then, on one of the crossbars, they install a pair of aluminum rudders, the boat's steering mechanism.

They link the rudders with an aluminum bar so that they move in unison.

A hitch pin locks the bar securely in place, while this rubber cap prevents paint chipping when the rudders hit the crossbar.

After mounting the first bicycle, workers install a console in the center of the boat.

It contains a waterproof storage compartment and the handle, which directs the rudders.

It connects to the rudders with a long bar called a tiller.

Next they mount the second bike.

Like the first one, it's designed to snap securely onto the crossbars.

The adjustable fiberglass seats slide onto aluminum rails.

The seats have fixed cushions and rugged, waterproof fabric.

The boat's retractable canopy is made of the same fabric on an aluminum structure.

A paddle boat is virtually maintenance-free.

You just have to oil the mechanisms a couple of times per season, and from then on, it's smooth sailing.

Every home needs a tough exterior.

Fiber cement siding is a concrete option.

Made of cement, sand, and wood pulp, it's engineered to be fireproof, insectproof, and weatherproof.

Embossed with various wood-grain patterns, it has a natural look that's big on the street.

Fiber cement cladding is a century-old product that was actually reinvented in the 1980s.

Asbestos was removed due to health concerns and replaced with wood pulp.

The pulp provides the fiber that prevents cracking.

Production begins with silica sand.

A loader shovels it into an underground conveyor.

The sand particles, which are about the size of beach sand, are about to be ground down to a fine powder.

The conveyor takes the sand up to a revolving cylinder grinder called a ball mill-- so named because, inside, steel balls tumble around to smash the sand particles into much smaller bits.

They pipe in water to keep the dust down and eliminate the need for an exhaust system.

This also liquefies the sand, making it easier to pipe it through the plant during the various stages of processing.

But the sandy liquid needs to be thickened substantially, so it's into a tank to drain off much of the water.

What's left is about 80% sand.

The next ingredient is wood pulp, which gives the cement siding bending strength.

Without it, the fiber cement siding would be brittle and crack easily.

They add water and stir to soften and liquefy the pulp so it can be easily pumped around the factory for processing.

At the end of the mixing, the pulp looks like thick oatmeal.

Next, they lower cylindrical sieves into position.

But first they blend together the liquefied sand, cement, and pulp, along with some additives, creating a fiber cement slurry.

They pipe the cement slurry into a trough beneath the sieves.

As the sieves rotate through the slurry, residual water drains through the mesh walls, leaving a fiber cement film on the surface.

The film transfers to a felt belt moving overhead.

Through the felt, a vacuum mechanism sucks more moisture from the film until it forms a solid fiber cement sheet.

Rollers squeeze numerous sheets together.

They're still moist enough to stick together, and they fuse into one thick board.

Another roller then presses a woodlike pattern onto the surface of the cement board.

A spray of high-pressure water then slices the cement sheet into planks.

A robotic suctioning head gently picks up the fiber cement planks and transfers them to a pallet.

The planks are fragile at this point and need to be handled with care.

Loaded into a pallet, the cement planks are now ready for some toughening up.

They bake the fiber cement siding inside steel tubes.

They're autoclaves, high-pressure ovens.

Inside, pressurized steam enhances the chemical reaction between the ingredients to cure the cement clapboard.

They then load the pallets of cement siding onto a railcar, and it's on to the next station.

Here, machinery does something they call stack breaking.

During curing, the siding planks get stuck together, so these hydraulic cylinders lift and jostle them to separate them into individual boards.

They put a siding sample to the test.

With both sides of the board stabilized, a rod bends it at the center to determine the stress point.

If it can take a lot of pressure, the whole production line moves forward.

Spaced apart now, the fiber cement planks ride by sprayers that paint the sides and the ends a nice shade of red.

The siding then enters a curtain of paint of the exact same color.

The paint adheres to the front of the boards.

These mirrors expose any missed spots.

If there are any, they'll do touch-ups.

The transformation from a pile of sand and other ingredients to something that looks a lot like wood siding has taken just three days, and once installed, these wood-look cement planks could fool the neighbors.

After all, it's all about putting up a good facade.


Hospital Laundry
Brass Instrument Restoration
Horse Replicas
Excavation Buckets

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

Hospitals generate a lot of dirty laundry, from patient gowns and sheets to cleaning rags.

Some facilities do the washing in house.

But to free up hospital space, some send theirs out to industrial-size laundry operations that deal in high-volume with bigger and better equipment.

The hospital sends all fabric items to the laundry, including bed linens, towels, patient gowns, bibs, and cleaning rags.

The only exception is surgical linens, which are usually disposable.

The laundry company picks up the order and delivers it to the plant.

Next, workers unload the bags of soiled laundry on large rolling carts.

They weigh each one for internal statistical purposes and scan its bar code to track the laundry for each hospital.

Workers handling the bags wear gloves at all times.

The bags are plastic, which is more suitable than cloth for containing liquid, odor, and bacteria.

Workers rip each one open and, without touching the contents, dump them on the conveyor.

They discard the bag in a suction device that sends it to a baling system.

The bales of bags go to a recycling facility that turns them into garbage bags and other polyethylene products.

From this point on, everything is automated.

The conveyor drops the soiled laundry into a sturdy cloth bag.

Once the bag reaches 120 pounds, the conveyor automatically stops loading.

The filled bag travels to an overhead conveyor system, which leads to one of several stainless steel, tunnel-shaped washing machines.

Inside, a large rotating screw pushes the load through two pre-soaks, then moves on to six chemical wash cycles designed to remove tough stains such as blood and iodine.

Next are five treatment cycles to soften the fabric and normalize the ph level.

Then, three rinses.

The load of now clean laundry exits the tunnel washer and enters a hydraulic press.

The press applies around 12 tons of weight to squeeze out the residual water.

The load comes out compressed into what they call a cake.

A conveyor transfers it to an elevator, which transports it to the drying area.

The conveyor puts two cakes at a time into the dryer.

An infrared sensor inside signals the dryer to stop when the load is dry, about 22 minutes later.

A revolving paddle called a cake breaker separates the stuck-together items to prepare them for sorting.

From this point on, automation ends and manual sorting begins.

Workers pull different categories of items and toss them into designated linen hoppers that are hooked up to scales.

When a bag hits the target weight, it automatically drops down onto a conveyor, which leads to the final processing area.

Here, items are either folded or bulk packaged in plastic bags.

Workers load the bulk items into a vacuum system, which feeds into automated bagging machines.

The machines have either a built-in scale, which weighs the bag as it fills, or a photo cell, which counts the items dropping into the bag.

Once the bag reaches the target weight or count, the machine heat-seals and releases it.

Certain items have to be folded.

Luckily, a machine automatically folds bed pads, bath towels, and patient gowns by flipping over the ends with short blasts of air.

The neatly folded items collect underneath the machine, then travel by conveyor to the shipping preparation area.

Here, workers stack them onto rolling carts.

A different folding machine handles the larger items, such as bed sheets and flannel blankets.

A worker clamps an item to the feeder.

Then, the machine, using rollers and straps, processes the item until it's neatly folded.

The clean laundry goes back onto carts...

Into the truck, and back to the hospital.

Life on the concert circuit can be punishing, not just for the musicians, but also their instruments.

Dents, scuffs, and general wear can ruin the tone of a brass instrument.

But with a professional restoration, a badly damaged horn can once again shine in the spotlight.

They may look ready for the scrap heap, but incredibly, these not-so-gently-used brass instruments can be salvaged.

Technicians will use a combination of techniques to make them look and sound like new.

The restoration work starts with this solid steel ball.

The technician inserts it in the bore of the saxophone, just under some deep dents.

He places a plastic sheet on the dents from the outside.

It protects the finish from scratches as he now moves a powerful magnet over the dents.

The magnet pulls the ball against the inside of the instrument with such force that it pushes out the dents.

After 30 seconds of this magnetic manipulation, the dents are completely gone.

Using a series of engraving tools, another member of the team restores the artwork on the instrument.

He follows the traces that remain, and recreates designs that have completely worn away.

He only has one chance to get this right.

This takes skill and a steady hand.

The next technician reattaches a key cup to the hinge rod, and melts solder into the joint to make the connection permanent.

The brass looks very tarnished, so he buffs the key cup and rod to a mirror finish.

He now attaches the restored key and rod to the saxophone and screws it into position.

He presses the end of the key lever to confirm that it moves as it should.

He now inserts a fluorescent light into the body of the saxophone.

It will help him find air leaks.

But first, he activates an adhesive with a torch and applies it to the back of a leather pad.

He pries an old and deteriorated pad out of one of the key cups.

He transfers the new glue-backed pad to the key cup.

He closes the key against the tone hole, and the escaping light indicates a leak.

So, he heats the pad to reactivate the adhesive, and shifts it a bit in the key cup.

Now, the key completely closes the tone hole when pressed.

The next thing to be repaired is a key guard foot that's broken away from the horn.

This is delicate work.

To resolder it, the technician uses a hydrogen gas torch because its flame is more precise.

At another station, a new part takes shape.

They carve a brass cylinder to transform it into a new spring barrel for a trumpet valve.

He inserts the spring barrel into the top of the piston, and the fit is good.

He then places all the trumpet valve parts in a water-and-solvent solution.

He switches on an ultrasonic device, which sends high frequency sound waves through the solution.

Microscopic bubbles bombard the parts and remove oil and grease.

The trumpet now chills in a cryogenic freezer at minus 301 degrees fahrenheit to relieve it of residual stresses.

Back to room temperature, the technician inserts a tiny camera into the bore of the horn.

It gives him an inside look at the alignment of the piston ports as he presses the valves.

As with any instrument, the proof is in the playing.

this sax is sure to meet the approval of crowds of music lovers.

Displaying a life-size replica of a horse makes a galloping statement at a farm, a racetrack, or a western-themed venue.

Some horse owners even commission a replica in the likeness of their favorite animal.

A life-size fiberglass horse can be an attraction, but before this replica, there was an artist's sculpture in either wood, plaster, or styrofoam.

The sculpture served as the model to produce this three-part mold to cast one or more replicas.

They apply a release agent, so the casting won't stick to the mold.

Then they partially brush on and partially spray a .

4mm-thick layer of gel coat.

Gel coat is an easy-to-repair resin-based material that produces a smooth, shiny finish on fiberglass.

Three hours later, the gel coat is dry.

Next, they apply two layers of resin-saturated fiberglass fabric in the hard-to-access area of the mold.

Then they roll the fiberglass flat against the mold to prevent air bubbles, which would cause defects.

With a tool called a chopper gun, they shoot shredded fiberglass mixed with resin over all the other gel-coated areas of the mold.

They roll out the air bubbles and pack down the fiberglass to a consistent thickness of 3 millimeters.

This ensures the hollow horse will be strong enough to withstand up to 400 pounds of people sitting on it.

The resin-filled fiberglass cures within approximately two hours.

Then they drive in wooden wedges to pry the casting from the mold just enough to grab hold of the edge and pull.

Thanks to the release agent they applied earlier, extraction is effortless and causes no damage to the casting or mold.

Nonetheless, they carefully inspect the surface to be sure it's free of defects.

Next, they pass a grinder along the perimeter to trim off all the excess fiberglass and smooth the edge.

Each part of the mold produces half a horse, so the next step is to join the halves into a whole.

The attachment must be hidden on the inside so it doesn't show.

They first temporarily attach the halves on the outside with galvanized steel brackets and straps around the legs.

Then they cut a large opening towards the front of the horse to be able to access the inside.

They first fill the small space between the two halves with putty that auto body repair shops use on cars.

Then they reinforce the joint with a double layer of resin-saturated fiberglass fabric.

They cut a second opening toward the back of the horse, to repeat the process on a different area.

Then they close up the openings.

They temporarily hold the cutouts in position with galvanized steel brackets and fill all around with putty.

The putty and inside strips dry in an hour, at which point all the brackets can come off.

Now they work on the outside, sealing the space between the parts with more putty.

Once it dries, they flatten the seam with an electric sander.

Then they remove marks left by the sander by manually using a very fine sandpaper.

The seams are now flush with the rest of the surface.

Once painted, they won't show at all.

After cleaning the entire horse with acetone, they spray a coat of primer over the puttied seams.

Then, with fine sandpaper, they prep the surface to receive automotive paint.

The horse is ready to be painted.

With delicate strokes of an airbrush, an artist gradually paints the animal to life.

Before finishing her artwork, she'll apply two coats of transparent varnish to protect the paint from precipitation and the fading effect of the sun's rays.

Excavation buckets are ground-breaking tools.

Attached to the bottom arm of backhoes or other heavy equipment, they scoop up tons of soil and rock to make holes in the ground.

For jobs like building foundations and laying water and sewer pipes, excavation buckets dig right in.

For soil excavation, there's quite a bucket list.

Manufacturers make excavation buckets in a range of sizes and profiles.

They could have teeth or a smooth blade, depending on the kind of soil they'll be digging.

They custom design each excavation bucket on a computer and map out the dimensions.

The computer then guides a plasma torch as it cuts parts from high-strength steel.

Here, the torch produces attachment plates for holding the bucket to the excavator arms.

It even cuts the holes for the pins that will hinge it to a boom arm.

Each part weighs over 200 pounds.

A powerful magnet lifts it over to a metal palette to await refining.

Next, the computer-guided torch carves through a thinner sheet of steel to produce a template.

Parts of the excavation bucket will be shaped in this template so they'll match up when assembled.

With an oxygen-fueled torch, they bevel the blade to give it the edge it needs to bite into the ground.

This blade profile is for sandy soil.

A jagged edge is preferred for rocky or clay terrain.

Next, it's over to a powerful press.

It bends another part into an arch.

This arched part with straddle the top of the excavation bucket.

Meanwhile, at another station, a press bears downs on the beveled blade to shape it to the template.

The template is a cardboard copy of the steel one cut earlier.

The operator confirms that the first bend is angled correctly.

He then sprinkles lubricant and aims the press a few centimeters away from the first bend.

It takes six to eight hits to achieve the desired 90-degree angle.

Once satisfied, he'll bend the other end to the same degree.

Using rollers, the factory transforms a flat piece of steel into the bottom and back wall of the bucket.

The operator checks the curvature of the part with each pass until it's spot on.

They're now ready to pull all the pieces of the excavation bucket together.

Using chains and a hydraulic system, they pull the sides up to meet the back wall.

The steel template is now put to use.

It's positioned on the front lower lip, and serves as a guide as the chains bend the sides.

With the sides now flush to the back, a welder first tacks them together and then does permanent welds.

He guides the blade into position at the front of the bucket and welds it to it.

When this weld is complete, he'll remove the steel template.

The attachment plates have by now been linked by thick pins.

They lower it onto the top of the bucket, and it fits snugly to the arch and the to the back wall.

He welds the attachment assembly to the bucket.

They paint the bucket inside and out.

Yellow or black are popular choices for excavation buckets.

Clients usually match the color of the bucket to the machine that moves it.

It takes about 50 hours to manufacture an excavation bucket, and then it's ready to hit the ground.


Curling Stones
Refrigerators
Aluminum Baseball Bats
Opalescent Glass

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

Curling stones...

Refrigerators...

Aluminum baseball bats...

And opalescent glass.

The sport of curling is a combination of shuffleboard, billiards, and bowling on ice.

Players aim a large stone at a target while trying to knock the opponents' stones away from the target.

As the stone glides along the ice, team members sweep brooms in its path to control its speed and trajectory.

Curling stones are made of granite, but only two quarries in the world-- one in wales and one in scotland-- produce the unique type of granite that's required, a fine grain and free of quartz.

This unique stone has three times the impact resistance of regular granite.

The quarry tries to avoid traditional blast mining because that fractures the stone.

Instead, they locate flaws in the rock face and pry chunks off of it with an excavator.

This chunk weighs about 20 tons and is the size of a small car.

The next step is to divide it into more manageable slabs using a thick cable cutter with abrasive rings made of diamond particles.

A large pulley system moves the cable against the rock at high speed, and the diamonds slowly wear through the granite.

Avoiding flaws and weak points, workers trace circles the size of curling stones on the best-quality areas.

The cut slab then moves inside the quarry building, where this core drill's diamond cutters bore right through the slab, excising a blank that will become a curling stone.

The blanks weigh almost 60 pounds apiece.

Workers lift them out with an industrial-strength suction cup then transfer them to a container bound for a curling-stone factory in canada.

There, a drill bores a channel a little over a half-inch wide right through the center.

This is for attaching the curling stone's handle.

But that's still a long way off.

First, this machine has to carve the blank into the shape of a curling stone.

The machine's curved arm is lined with diamond cutters.

It shapes half the stone, then workers flip the blank over so it can finish the other half.

The next machine carves out a pocket in the bottom of the stone.

This will hold a high-resistance insert of extra-fine-grain scottish granite that will extend the curling stone's life.

After lining the pocket with epoxy, the insert is positioned.

A hydraulic press expels any trapped air and holds the insert in place until it firmly bonds.

Next, a grinding machine, following a template, makes a center cup in both the top and bottom of the stone.

Curlers can attach the handle to either cup, depending on which granite surface they want gliding on the ice.

Workers bolt the stone to a spinning polisher and buff the surface with five progressively finer grades of diamond abrasive pads.

Then they blast the side with tiny glass beads.

This pits the surface to better distribute impact force, preventing the side from chipping as it strikes other stones.

Running the top and bottom over coarse sandpaper gives the stone more traction on ice.

The finished curling stone weighs in at 40 pounds.

The factory molds the stone's handle from durable impact-resistant plastic.

This computer-guided engraving machine can embellish it with any name or logo.

Paint is applied to the recessed areas to make the lettering or design stand out.

Finally, the finished handle is bolted through that center hole drilled earlier.

From the quarry to the factory to the ice, this beautifully crafted curling stone is ready for competition.

When we return...

The cold, hard truth about refrigerators.

Before refrigeration, people stored foods in underground cellars or shacks filled with snow and ice.

Then in the early 1900s, a french inventor developed the first machine to cool and preserve foods at home.

The modern refrigerator comes in countless styles, sizes, and colors.

Manufacturing begins with coiled sheets of steel.

Just one of these coils produces hundreds of fridge exteriors.

The interiors are made from rust-resistant aluminum lined with an acrylic shell.

A shearing machine slices the steel into pieces for the exterior top, back, and sides.

Then each one goes into a computerized punch press that makes the holes for running various wires.

A brake press forces the steel against a forming die to create edges.

Next, workers place the pieces of the refrigerator's outer shell in an assembly jig, which holds them firmly together.

Now for the fridge's interior.

A vacuum-forming machine heats a sheet of plastic and shapes it against an aluminum mold.

Then a router carves off all the excess plastic.

The freezer half of the refrigerator slides perfectly into the metal outer shell, and the fridge side follows.

Copper tubes, filled with heated gas, are laid along the outer edge where the door contacts the fridge.

The gas prevents moisture buildup.

A precut face frame goes onto the assembly.

Then foam is injected into the cavity between the interior and exterior shells.

This foam not only insulates the refrigerator but gives it structural rigidity, as well.

This evaporator plays a key role in keeping things cool.

It draws the heat out of the freezer and its contents.

Next, the electrical control panel goes into place.

It connects to a maze of wires and, eventually, a microprocessor.

With the freezer side almost complete, the fridge side gets its evaporator.

Next comes the refrigerator doors.

Two compressors pump fluid and gas through the various tubes inside.

This component, called the radiator, dissipates the heat collected from the food.

Workers attach the expansion valves.

These allow the pressurized liquid coolant to expand into a cold gas that circulates through the refrigerator's tubes.

Copper tubes are soldered to the compressor.

Later, they'll be filled with refrigerant.

Temporary quick-connect valves allow the system to be charged with inert gas to check for any leaks.

The fill hoses are connected, and the gas blows in.

Inspectors use this wand to check the tubes for escaping gas.

If there's a leak, the gauge spikes out of the specified range.

Refrigeration occurs as cold gas in the evaporator coils pulls heat energy from inside the fridge.

The compressor then changes the gas back to a liquid while the radiator dissipates the collected heat.

The expansion valve turns the liquid back into a cold gas, and the cycle repeats.

With a charging gun, workers inject refrigerant gas into each tube then weld the ends of the tube shut.

Now for the finishing touches, starting with the refrigerator handles.

Drawers for fruits and vegetables slide right in-- so do the rest of the premade shelves and compartments.

Finally, an adhesive logo goes onto the door.

Built-in, stand-alone, double-door, or traditional, the refrigerator keeps our food fresh and cool, just the way we like it.

Up next...

A factory that tries to hit a home run every time.

On today's baseball diamonds, the ping of the aluminum bat is rivaling the crack of its wooden predecessor.

The pros still use traditional wood, but outside the major leagues, the metal bat is a definite hit.

Lightweight and durable, the metal bat has some definite advantages over wood.

Production begins with aircraft-grade aluminum rods.

These rods are sliced into short chunks called blanks.

The blanks are loaded into a lathe with a computerized drill.

The drill tunnels through the center of the blank as it spins.

Then the blank undergoes what's called impact extrusion.

With 300 tons of force, a shaping tool bores into the hole in the blank, stretching it to more than twice its length and giving it the basic taper of a baseball bat.

The stretched bat blanks now tumble into a big, perforated drum.

The drum is lowered into a tank of soapy water.

As it turns, water flows through its holes, washing away any oily residue.

And now, for a real heavy hitter.

This forming tool delivers 400-ton punch through the center of the bat blank.

The aluminum stretches around the tool to the full length and shape of a baseball bat.

A technician measures the bat to confirm that it's completely straight.

If it's not, she applies a little hydraulic pressure to bend it into shape.

This is a critical step because even a slightly crooked bat could throw the player off his or her game.

Next, the bat goes into another computerized lathe.

As it spins, a blade lops off the bat's end, cutting it to size.

Another tool threads the inside for the endcap.

The bat is locked into a holding device, and a circular saw trims the handle end.

Now that the bat has been correctly sized, it's time for a vigorous sanding.

This gets rid of any small defects and roughs up the surface so paint will stick to it.

They use heavy-duty paint because baseball bats have to stand up to a lot of abuse.

The sanded bats go into a silk-screen machine that applies the trademark.

Then it's over to the decal department.

The decals are dipped into a solution that activates the glue, then they're stuck into place.

Now it's back under the paint gun for a clear coat of polyurethane.

The plastic endcap is press-fit into the hollow barrel.

An aluminum knob slides onto the handle end, and the assembly goes into an automated welding machine that fuses them together.

Now for the grip.

Synthetic leather is wrapped around the handle to provide a nonslip surface.

And a little vinyl tape finishes the edge.

From a solid little chunk of aluminum to a hollow metal baseball bat, this powerhouse is ready to hit one out of the park.

Coming up...

The hot secrets behind opalescent glass.

Glassmaking dates back more than 40 centuries.

But in the late 1800s, glassmakers created something new-- glass that was both milky and translucent.

They called it opalescent glass.

Like its namesake, the opal gemstone, its beauty lies in the way it magically catches the light.

Opalescent glass is a semitransparent glass in either a solid color or a swirling mix of hues.

Glass makers create it by melting minerals, including silica sand...

Soda ash...

Dolomite...

Limestone...

And fluorspar.

Adding recycled glass helps speed up the melting process and stretches costly raw materials further.

The mix is colored with pigments, in this case, cobalt oxide, which gives a distinctive blue tint.

A hoist then lifts the raw ingredients called batch to a double-chambered mixer.

Ingredients flow from end to end between them, thoroughly blending the batch.

The blended batch now goes via wagon to the beehive-- a furnace that contains 12 ceramic pots.

The furnace worker shovels the batch into a pot to melt at a searing 2,600 degrees fahrenheit.

He pushes any spills back into the pot.

Then to control the temperature inside, closes up the pot's mouth.

24 hours later, workers scoop out the glowing molten glass.

With only seconds to spare, they hurry to the mixing table, keeping the glass in motion to prevent it from cooling unevenly on the way.

It's critical they cool off the ladles between each use or the next scoop of glass will adhere to the ladle's surface.

The ladles they use vary in size, holding between 4 and 40 pounds of molten glass.

Workers pour as many as five different ladles at once to make a single color.

The mixing table is where the magic happens.

The table worker picks up one gather of burning molten glass, then another, then skillfully blends them together using a steel fork.

He then flips the molten glass into a rolling machine, evening it out as it squeezes through the rollers.

Out comes a sheet about 6 feet long and 1/8th of an inch thick.

Every 90 seconds, workers fill their ladles with 2,000 degree fahrenheit molten glass.

Mixing it on the table helps cool it and blend the colors.

The table worker separates the glass sheet from the table surface, forcing out any trapped air bubbles and further cooling the glass.

The sheet now goes into a lehr-- an oven that hardens the glass, then cools it evenly to prevent cracking.

From there, it's on to the trimming table.

Workers wear protective clothing and thick gloves to handle the razor-sharp edges still hot to the touch.

Cutting the glass sheets is a delicate, two-person job.

They must work in sync to keep pace with the sheets that keep on coming.

A single pot produces about 25 sheets over 24 hours.

That's 300 sheets a day from just one 12-pot furnace.

Using a carbide-tipped cutter, the workers score the glass, then snap apart the pieces--  standard 32-inch square sheets.

They set aside the excess glass to remelt in a new batch.

Finally, the sheets are loaded into crates for shipment all over the world.

Just look how artists use opalescent glass to create a feast of pattern, color, and light.

Like a painting, only far more fragile.


Indy Steering Wheels
Mixed Salad
Wind Turbines

The indy steering wheel isn't just for steering.

It's the control center for the racecar, replacing the dashboard.

This incredible steering wheel is also detachable to allow the driver to enter and exit the cockpit quickly and easily.

It's, quite simply, designed for speed.

The indy steering wheel is a complex piece of equipment that puts everything at the driver's fingertips.

It starts with a full-scale design, customized to the driver's racing style and preferences.

The technician aligns the traditional racing steering wheel with the drawing, and marks it for a complete remodel.

He cuts out the leather and foam wrap within the marked lines and saws off a chunk of the aluminum frame.

He then activates a computerized cutter that carves away a big section of the steering wheel hub.

It also cuts holes for switches.

With these changes, the steering wheel is ready to accommodate a panel with over two dozen controls and gauges.

Next, more computerized tooling transforms a sheet of carbon fiber into the steering wheel's switch plate.

It cuts out holes for screws and switches, and it creates slots for the shift and clutch panels.

The tool then zigzags around the perimeter to trim the switch plate to fit the modified steering wheel.

With the trimmings removed, the switch plate is ready for the working parts.

The next technician plugs the color-coded switches into the holes and locks them in place with nuts and anti-vibration washers.

The yellow one is a pit-lane speed limiter.

As the name suggests, it will limit the car's speed in the pit lane.

Once all the switches have been installed, he runs wires to them and solders the connections.

This completes the circuitry.

He coats each connection with silicone sealant.

This weather-proofs them and further dampens vibrations.

And for additional protection, he applies glue to the plastic sheathing around the wires.

He adds a rubber boot to each connection.

The boot fits loosely around it at first, but, using a heat gun, he shrinks the specially formulated rubber to the connection.

This makes the boot fit like it was made for it.

The indy-steering-wheel switch plate is now ready for the shift paddles.

So next, the technician screws a spacer plate into the slot.

This metal spacer slightly elevates the paddle mechanism to give it the right amount of clearance.

He screws the paddle assembly to the spacer.

He installs the second shift paddle and two clutch paddles.

Then he inserts the rotary switch for fuel mapping and secures it with a washer and nut.

This fuel-mapping system will adjust the fuel-air mix to boost or decrease power output.

He adds little decals with icons to the color-coded switches.

A radio-transmission icon marks the communication switch.

He returns to the steering wheel now.

He attaches a unit that displays rpm and other information that a normal dash would have.

He screws it to the exposed aluminum frame.

He's now ready to mount the completed switch plate to the steering wheel.

Three bolts to the hub secure the assembly.

He installs a spring-loaded mechanism at the back of the steering wheel that will allow the steering wheel to be installed or removed in half a second.

He tests the two shift paddles and the two clutch paddles and confirms they operate smoothly.

Finally, he attached dense padding to the steering-wheel hub for a soft landing for the driver's head in the even of a crash.

This indy steering wheel costs as much as a small compact car.

But for the driver and crew, it's worth the investment if it helps win the prize.

People have been dining on edible greens for thousands of years.

Traditionally collected in the wild, today, there's no need to forage for them because field greens are cultivated commercially.

They're mixed, washed, and packaged for the consumer's convenience.

It's an easy dish to toss together.

Packaged mixed greens combine mild-tasting leaves with stronger-tasting ones and crunchy greens with more tender ones.

So when it comes to texture and flavor, it's truly a mixed bag.

They cultivate up to 20 different kinds of greens on this california farm, and they aren't all green.

Some are red.

They plant the various lettuces according to the recipes for different packaged salads so they'll have just the right combination.

With regular irrigation and fertilization, the leaves flourish.

It makes for a stunning red-and-green display in the field.

After 30 to 45 days, these baby greens are ready for harvest.

A machine with a long blade moves across the field and literally mows the field greens.

The greens flow onto one conveyor and transfer to another.

The belt is a metal-mesh one to sift out contaminants like small rocks and twigs.

At the end of the sifting conveyor, the salad greens fly off and onto another belt.

This belt serves them up to bins on a flatbed trailer, creating an enormous salad in each one.

Workers cover the bins with plastic and haul them to a nearby processing plant.

On arrival, the salad greens transfer to a vacuum-cooling chamber to chill.

The vacuum causes moisture on the greens to evaporate.

As the water evaporates, it absorbs heat to lower the temperature and cool the greens.

The salad greens then head into an optical sorter.

Here, computerized cameras and lasers scan the greens for flaws, like discoloration and foreign material.

The operator has programmed the system to detect flaws or contaminants.

When the computer finds one, it sends a signal to an air jet that expels it.

Some good leaves get lost along the way-- about 3%.

It's considered an acceptable loss.

The rejects will be composted.

Out of the optical sorter, an employee tosses in the bitter greens, like radicchio and frisée.

This moving salad now heads into a three-part wash system.

The first wash tank has rolling perforated cylinders that keep the greens submerged for washing.

They also pick up unwanted tiny leaves and remove them from the mix.

The salad greens transfer to a vibrating conveyor that shakes out the water.

Then they travel through a second wash tank and finally receive a third wash from overhead sprayers.

The washed salad greens fall into plastic containers with perforations.

They're essentially very large colanders.

They transfer each colander to a centrifuge and power up.

It spins the colander, and this causes the moisture on the greens to drain through there perforations.

This leaves them dry and crisp.

It is a large-scale version of the salad spinner many people have in their kitchens.

These field greens are now ready for the packaging line.

It's an entirely mechanized system with an endless appetite.

The greens funnel through a hopper and land in buckets.

This is a weighing operation.

There's a scale under each bucket.

When the target weight is reached, the bucket releases the greens.

They slide down chutes into the bagging machine.

These salad greens are still living, breathing plants.

The packaging will slow their respiration and put the aging process on hold.

Machinery hermetically seals them in plastic to give them a shelf life of 14 days to 19 days.

And with that availability, there's no excuse not to eat your greens.

Wind turbines use an unlimited natural resource, the wind, to produce electricity without polluting the environment.

A turbine consists of a rotor and a massive propeller that spins in the wind on top of a high tower.

It drives a built-in generator that produces electricity.

The higher up you go, the windier it is.

So the taller the turbine, the more wind power it harnesses.

They may not look it from a distance, but wind turbines can be as high as a 20-story building with rotor blades half a football field long.

To begin constructing those massive blades, workers prepare fiberglass sheets, each one numbered according to a detailed engineering plan.

Then, following the plan, workers lay down specific sheets in designated locations in the bottom half of a blade-shaped mold.

For a blade to be free of defects, each sheet must lie perfectly flat.

So, using a smoothing tool, workers remove air bubbles and creases.

The surface of the mold cavity is treated with a non-stick coating.

This will prevent the blade from adhering to the mold when they extract it.

After placing all the sheets in the bottom half of the mold, workers construct the upper part of the blade by laying fiberglass sheets on the top half of the blade mold.

Again, every single sheet is numbered and positioned according to the blade-design plan.

An area of the mold can have from for to 120 layered sheets of varying thickness, weights, and weaves, depending on how structurally strong that part of the blade has to be.

To make specific areas more rigid, between layers of fiberglass they install balsa, an extremely lightweight wood.

Cut channels enable the balsa panels to flex to the shape of the blade.

The channels are also the pathways through which the bonding agent epoxy will flow to saturate the wood and surrounding fiberglass.

Precision in the setup of fiberglass and wood is critical.

The process takes a team of six workers 16 hours.

They close up the mold by lowering the top half onto the bottom half.

Then they inject the epoxy.

Simultaneously, workers heat the mold to 158 degrees fahrenheit.

This aids the chemical reaction between the epoxy's two components-- a resin and a hardener.

After 9½ hours, the epoxy is fully cured.

With overhead cranes, they lift away the top half of the mold, revealing a turbine blade measuring up to 60 yards long, weighing in at about 10 tons.

Using lifting devices positioned at specific locations, they slowly extract the blade from the bottom half of the mold and lay it onto a stand to cool for 4½ hours.

Workers then transfer the blade to a mill-and-drill machine, which shapes the open end to align with the rotor hub.

The machine also drills holes for the 54 pin bolts that will fasten the blade to the hub.

Next, workers grind away the seam of hardened epoxy that formed where the two halves of the mold met and sand the surface perfectly smooth.

Then they spray the blade with a coat of primer, which they let cure for six hours.

Then a coat of epoxy-based paint, letting that cure for about eight hours.

Then workers insert those 54 pin bolts made of a particularly strong grade of steel and tighten them with a torque wrench.

After this, they weigh each blade on a floor scale and group three blades of similar weight per turbine to ensure the rotation will be balanced.

The install a cover over the opened end of the blade to prevent debris from falling inside during transport to the wind farm.

Upon arrival, crews bolt three blades to a rotor hub, then hoist the rotor to the top of the turbine tower and connect it to the nacelle.

The nacelle is the part of a wind turbine which transforms wind power into electricity.

With the rotor mounted to it, the nacelle houses a giant drivetrain.

It multiplies the rotational speed of the spinning blades then transfers it to a massive generator, which produces electricity.

A wind turbine's rotor is made of three blades attached to a hub.

The hub alone weighs more than 30 tons.

It's cast from ductile iron, a strong grade of cast iron.

At the factory, they use a crane to hoist and affix the hub casting to an assembly fixture.

This fixture holds the hub securely in a suspended position while workers mount components to it, starting with three blade bearings.

A blade bearing is a giant ball bearing to which the blade is attached.

When it rotates, the blade pitches, meaning it changes angle.

Blades need to be pitched to better catch the wind and to spin at optimal speed.

Each bearing attaches to the hub with 54 huge bolts.

The next hub components--  three accumulators-- one for each blade bearing.

An accumulator stores hydraulic oil under pressure.

This oil moves hydraulic cylinders, which rotate the blade bearing to pitch the blade.

Workers assemble each accumulator, mount its cover, then install it on a blade bearing.

Once all three accumulators and other components are installed, the hub is finished.

They remove it from the assembly fixture and put a fiberglass cover over each bearing to protect the workings inside.

Meanwhile, in the same factory, workers assemble the wind turbine's nacelle.

First, they lay out the bottom section of its steel housing, then they assemble the yaw system, the key component that enables the nacelle and rotor to rotate 360 degrees.

They mount a large stationary gear in the center of the system's mainframe.

Then, on the reverse side of the mainframe, they install eight yaw gears.

These smaller gears engage the large gear on the other side.

Fully assembled, the mainframe weighs more than 22 tons.

Workers hoist it with a crane, then install it into the bottom section of the nacelle's steel housing.

They connect the gearbox to the rest of the nacelle's drivetrain.

It works like a car transmission in reverse.

While the car transmission takes combustion-produced energy and turns it into rotation--  the car wheel's turning-- the nacelle drivetrain takes rotation-- the blades spinning in the wind-- and turns it into electrical energy.

Those spinning blades rotate the drivetrain's massive steel shaft.

The opposite end of that shaft connects to the gearbox.

The gear's multiply the speed of rotation, rotating the second shaft, which they now connect to a generator, installed inside the nacelle housing.

The second shaft powers the generator, which produces electricity.

After connecting the drivetrain to the generator, workers install the top section of the housing, as well as access doors for maintenance work.

Technicians conduct various tests to make sure everything runs properly.

Here, they are verifying the fan that cools the generator.

The finished nacelle looks like a mammoth aa battery.

It weighs 85 tons.

Nearly half of that is the drivetrain.

The plant ships both the nacelle and the hub separately to the wind farm by either truck or rail.

The blades are shipped to the farm from another factory and the tower from yet another.

Once all the parts arrive on site, assembly can begin.

Crews first direct the tower.

Then they hoist the nacelle all the way to the top and mount it.

On the ground, they assemble the rotor by installing the blades in the hub.

Then they hoist the rotor to the top of the tower and mount it to the nacelle.

And from that point on, the wind does all the work.


Bamboo Bicycles
Chainsaw Art
Breath Mints
Manual Motorcycle Transmissions

The bamboo bicycle was invented in england in the 19th century, and the idea never really went anywhere until now.

The modern bamboo bicycle is a highly engineered piece of work-- one that takes advantage of bamboo's steely sturdiness and its ability to absorb vibrations.

At a time when bicycles are often made of high-tech carbon fiber and exotic alloys, the bamboo bike takes things in a whole new direction.

Bamboo cane is a grass that's incredibly sturdy.

And because it's fast-growing, a bicycle made from it is as green as it gets.

The frame builder starts with the strongest species of bamboo.

Each cane is scrutinized to confirm that it's perfectly straight and structurally sound.

He measures and marks each one to a precise length.

To avoid fraying the edges or splitting exterior fibers, he makes the cuts slowly.

He smoothes the freshly cut ends against a drum sander and tapers them a bit to fit into steel joints.

Once satisfied with the fit, he removes the bamboo canes from the steel joints.

He sprays an acetone cleaning solution into the joints and then scrubs with a wire brush to prepare them for bonding to the bamboo canes.

A total of five steel joints will hold the bamboo bicycle frame together.

It's now time for the assembly.

He probes the cavity of each bamboo cane to confirm there are no obstructions and to determine how far inside to insert a foam plug.

This plug will prevent adhesive from running through the entire cane during bonding.

Using a long syringe, he injects fast-setting epoxy adhesive into the cane.

This seals the plug to the inside wall of the bamboo cane.

Once plugs have been installed in all the canes, he snakes plastic tubing through the steel joints and caulks the gaps.

This tubing is a delivery system for the next application of epoxy adhesive that will seal the steel joints to the bamboo framework.

With the plastic tubing now installed in all the steel joints, he reassembles the bamboo bicycle frame and double-checks the geometry.

This is known as the dry fit.

It's one last chance to perfect the fit at the joints.

He'll sand the ends of the bamboo or even cut a new cane, if needed.

Most frames need at least a little tweaking at this stage.

Once it's just right, he secures the bike frame in a jig.

He inserts a bit of epoxy putty between the bamboo cane and the steel joint.

It acts as a shim to center the cane in the fitting.

He then wraps electrical tape around the gaps where the steel joints meet the bamboo canes.

This tape is low-tack, so it won't pull up bamboo fibers when it's removed.

Yet the seal is strong enough to keep epoxy adhesive from dripping out as he now injects it into one of the joints.

He cuts a tiny slit in the tape to monitor the flow.

And when epoxy starts to leak out, he knows there's enough for a full bond.

He tapes up the slit to close off the overflow and clamps the end of the plastic tubing with a clothespin.

He injects epoxy into all five joints.

Once all the gaps have been filled, he leaves the assembly to dry.

12 hours later, he unbinds the joints.

They're now solidly fused to the bamboo to hold the frame together.

The plastic tubing has also bonded to the inside of the joints.

He just cuts the ends.

He grinds off the excess epoxy for a smoother transition from the steel to the bamboo.

Once the bike frame has been cleaned and engraved with the brand name, he stains the bamboo with a polyurethane finish.

This seals the pores of the bamboo against water damage and enhances the texture of the woody fibers.

He paints the joints with automotive-quality paint, and it's ready for a set of wheels.

This bamboo bicycle frame has been 40 hours in the making.

As an eco-friendly mode of transportation, it should be a trailblazer.

When the motorized chainsaw came on the scene in the 1920s, it revolutionized the forestry industry.

From then on, it was only a matter of time before some creative lumberjacks started logging extra time with their trusty tool, using the chainsaw like a sculptor's chisel or a painter's brush.

These chainsaw sculptures run the gamut from cartoonlike characters to realistic reproductions of wildlife.

This artistic endeavor does come with significant risk.

One wrong move with the chainsaw can cause serious injury or worse.

At the request of landowners and governments, this particular logger artist cuts down bug wood-- pine trees killed by mountain pine beetles.

Brandishing a chainsaw with a 16-inch blade, he'll transform this log into a turkey.

The first cut forms a higher back, which will eventually become the tail feathers.

The second cut establishes the top of the head.

Then, he cuts away wood in between to begin shaping the body.

He removes wood from the front to begin forming the turkey's beard and breast.

Then, he removes wood from the sides to shape the wings.

As this is a turkey in a strutting pose, the wings are thrusting downward.

After shaping the breast further and carving the feet, he puts down the chainsaw, picks up a pencil, and outlines 19 tail feathers.

Then, he gently carves his lines with the tip of the chainsaw.

He also carves the outlines of the feathers located under the tail feathers.

Then, using the tip ever so lightly, he makes delicate lines inside each feather.

The rough shape now complete, he begins working on the finer details, such as sculpting each wing feather.

Then, he carves some even finer details with a die grinder-- a tool which takes interchangeable bits.

He uses a cone-shaped bit to carve the turkey's toes, then a sanding disk to proportion the breast, then a small wheel to carve the lower breast feathers.

Now he tackles the snood-- that flap of skin over the turkey's beak.

He makes it curved, rather than hanging straight down, to make the turkey look as though it's moving.

To craft the eyes, he uses a tool he rigged up himself by attaching a modified bolt to a die grinder.

The eyes are the artistic turning point.

They add the first hint of facial expression.

Using the cone-shaped bit again, the artist shaves off wood underneath the eyes so they'll protrude somewhat.

Then, using a variety of bits, he does some touch-ups on the snood and sculpts the sac of skin under the turkey's neck.

Then, he takes the eye tool again, but this time to brand little circles on the skin sac, to give it a realistic texture.

With the carving now complete, the burning begins.

Using a small gas torch, he scorches the wood.

The raised area becomes darker than the recessed areas, giving the feathers contrast and depth.

The last step is some finer, detailed texturing.

He attaches a soft wire brush to a drill and smoothes out the tips of the feathers.

He coats the finished carving in a sealer-- a homemade concoction of equal parts mineral spirits, heavy-duty marine varnish, and boiled linseed oil.

This sealer gives the surface a rich, semigloss luster.

But, more importantly, it protects the wood against the elements, which is critical, given that these carvings are usually displayed outdoors.

This specially designed sealant is the key to the longevity of these carvings.

It forms a suit of armor against precipitation and the sun's ultraviolet rays, yet the sealant isn't an airtight shield.

It still lets the wood breathe, which is critical for preventing mold growth.

It's also flexible, moving with the natural expansion and contraction of the wood.

An inflexible sealant would crack, letting water seep in.

This durable, protective finish makes the chainsaw-carved statue not only a statement piece but also an investment piece.

Bad breath can ruin your social life, but suck on a mint, and you'll be breathing a sigh of relief.

Mint candies were first introduced in britain in 1790 and were initially used to soothe indigestion.

Later, their breath-freshening qualities were discovered, and they became known as breath mints.

Out of consideration for their costars, actors often suck on a mint or two before shooting a romantic scene.

Bad breath can be a real scene-spoiler in the movies and in everyday life.

They make these tablet-style mints in various colors and flavors.

For a lime-flavored mint, ingredients include sorbitol-- a sugar-free sweetener-- magnesium stearate, which acts as a binder, and lime oil for that refreshing flavor.

They load measured amounts of the ingredients into a v-shaped blender.

They'll be producing a 300-pound batch that will yield 600,000 mints.

That green stuff is a premix of color and oil.

He screws the lid tightly onto the blender.

It tumbles the ingredients for 45 minutes.

The magnesium stearate begins to bind the various elements.

They then mix blue and yellow pigment to produce a vibrant green one.

The pigment is a booster to enhance the green color of the mint and reflect the lime flavor of the candies.

After one more spin in the blender, the mixture is ready to be pressed.

It flows out of the blender and into a big bin.

Once the bin is full, they deliver it to the tablet-pressing machine.

Here, they scoop the mix into two hoppers that have sieves on top.

The sieves screen out any large clumps.

The rest of the mix falls into the rotary tablet press.

This is actually the same kind of machine that the pharmaceutical industry uses for making pills.

It spins in a blur to punch out 1,800 tablets a minute.

They slow the press to a crawl to give us a close-up look.

The granulated mixture flows in metered amounts into dies in the rotating wheel.

Upper and lower punches meet in the dies to compress the mint-candy ingredients.

This fuses the mixture into hard tablets.

After the compression, the lower punches rise and eject the candies.

The mints and the excess powder fall down a chute.

At the actual speed, the machine churns out dozens of mints faster than you can blink an eye.

The tablets and all that excess powder now flow into a perforated cylinder.

As the cylinder rotates, the powder flies out of the holes and into the trough below.

This is known as dedusting.

The mint candies, minus most of the excess powder, spill out into a container.

Next, the mints ride a revolving table.

This is a tablet-counting system.

As the mints exit the table, light sensors count out a preset amount of mints for packaging-- in this case, 72 mints.

A worker moves tins into position below the hoppers to capture the mints.

This kind of tin has been used since the 1920s to contain mints.

It has a sliding lid that makes it easy to open.

But once closed, it contains them tightly, preventing spillage.

Now it's over to the shrink-wrap department.

Machinery drops a plastic sleeve onto each tin as it rides by and under a leveling bracket.

The tins then travel through an oven, where a blast of heat softens the plastic sleeves, causing them to shrink to the tins.

They emerge securely sealed and ready for retail.

Today, mints can come in exotic shapes, like these wine-bottle mints.

They can be custom-made for any occasion, because, after all, most occasions call for fresh breath.

The transmission in a motorcycle multiplies the power coming from the engine to move the bike down the road at faster and faster speeds.

The vast majority of motorcycles have a manual transmission, so it's up to the rider to operate a lever to shift into lower or higher gears as required.

most manual motorcycle transmissions have a push-button electric starter, but traditionalists still prefer this old-style transmission with a kick starter.

The transmission case is made from aluminum that's been extruded to a starting shape.

A saw cuts a piece to the case length.

Then, a series of computer-guided tools hollow out the inside and bore a pocket to hold the bearing in which the main drive gear turns.

The main drive gear is what takes power out of the transmission, ultimately rotating the rear wheel of the motorcycle.

Once polished, the transmission case is ready to receive its 100-plus components.

Workers assemble the bearing in which the main shaft turns, transferring power from the engine to the transmission.

Using a press, they push this bearing into a bearing housing, then bolt it in place, immobilizing the bolt with a few drops of permanent thread-locking fluid.

Then, right next to the main shaft bearing, workers bolt the bearing in which the countershaft turns, magnifying and multiplying the power which the main shaft transfers from engine to transmission.

They press in a pin which helps accurately position this housing when it comes time to bolt it to the transmission.

They apply thread lock to secure the bushing that holds one of two rods for the bike's shift forks.

They're what the rider manipulates to move each gear into a predetermined position.

They suspend the second rod between the housing and the transmission case.

They install the countershaft into the countershaft bearing and lock it in with the press.

Next, workers assemble what's known as the gearset.

This is a 6-speed transmission, which means there are six gears on the main shaft and six on the countershaft.

Each gear is held to its shaft by a high-strength steel retaining ring that's plated with yellow zinc to make it easy to verify that it's in the right position.

Workers lubricate the bearings thoroughly to ensure they rotate smoothly around the shafts.

Putting the gearset aside for now, they use the press once again-- this time, to install the main drive-gear bearing into the pocket they bore for it in the transmission case.

The red disk merely provides a cushion to prevent the press from damaging the component.

Next, they press the main drive gear in the bearing.

Again, they use the installation disk to cushion the component from the press.

They slide the gearset into the transmission case and secure it with nine nuts.

They apply semipermanent thread lock to each nut so that they can be unscrewed in the future, should the gearset need to be removed for repair.

Meanwhile, a computer-guided mill machines the shift drum out of a super-durable type of steel.

The shift drum rotates when the rider shifts gears, moving the gears.

After coating it in black oxide to prevent against corrosion, they install it on top of the transmission case.

They assemble the kick starter.

When the rider kicks it, a series of gears rotates the main shaft inside the transmission.

The main shaft is also connected to the engine, so this rotation starts the engine.

The kick arm itself is stainless steel.

The pedal, bronze.

Both types of metal are durable enough to withstand years of kicking and are resistant to corrosion.

For demonstration purposes, this transmission case has been cut away to show what happens inside when the rider shifts gears.

The shift drum rotates 30 degrees to pull the transmission out of one gear, then another 30 degrees to put it into another-- a perfectly engineered piece of mechanical choreography.


Pro Hockey Sticks
Bronzed Shoes
Treadmills
Computers

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

Pro hockey sticks.

Bronzed baby shoes.

Treadmills.

And handheld computers.

Today's cutting-edge hockey sticks are made primarily of graphite, a strong yet lightweight material woven from carbon.

Professional hockey players have their graphite sticks custom-made.

Each player has the curve and angle of the blade tailored to precise specifications that he believes enhance his performance on the ice.

To construct the stick's hollow shaft, workers layer 15 sheets of graphite, each in a different direction to make the shaft uniformly rigid.

Heat-activated resin molds the layers together.

This machine, called a flex tester, measures how much force it takes to bend the shaft one inch.

If the force is within a certain range, the shaft has the correct degree of stiffness for that model.

The blade starts with the plastic core.

In the center, there's a piece of hard foam wrapped in graphite.

It absorbs the impact of the puck.

Later, they'll mold the core to the shaft, but for now, they glue and clamp them together.

When the glue dries, they cover the core in a graphite sock.

The sock fibers run diagonally.

The fibers of subsequent layers run in other directions, building a combination of crisscross fibers that creates uniform stiffness throughout the blade.

Now the core goes into a glue applicator.

This heat-activated plastic resin permeates the graphite.

Once it cures, it will fortify the material.

On the next two layers of graphite are strips.

On one, the fibers run vertically.

On the other, they run diagonally.

They're stiffer because they've already had a resin application.

They run through the glue applicator and go onto the core.

This is how the factory builds its graphite blades, whether mass producing amateur sticks or making a few special-order sticks for a pro player.

At this point, retail sticks head into large-scale automated production.

Workers continue making pro sticks by hand.

Initially, they produce a customized wooden mold for each player's stick and give it an identification number to prevent mix-ups.

They install this two-piece mold on a press.

The press shapes the blade to the player's precise specifications, for the face, or vertical angle, and the curve.

This molding process also compresses the graphite layers into a single unit and bonds the blade to the shaft permanently.

The plastic bag over the blade prevents excess resin from oozing all over the press.

Using a router, they profile the blade to a specific shape.

Each pro player orders his own personal template.

It can be any shape, provided it abides by nhl regulations.

Maximum curve-- half an inch, maximum height-- 3 inches, maximum length-- 12 1/2 inches.

Now, a good sanding.

And a thorough buffing.

They dip the blades in urethane, a colorless coating that fills in tiny imperfections on the surface.

Once that dries, a machine sprays silver paint at the base of the shaft.

Finally, another coat of urethane to seal and protect the paint.

For the retail market, this company mass produces six models of graphite hockey sticks in a right-handed and left-handed version.

They all have the same blade shape, but different curves.

You can peel off the removable model-name decal and write your own name on the shaft instead.

Not nearly as personalized as a made-to-order pro stick, but at least you won't leave the arena with someone else's hockey stick by mistake.

The pitter-patter of little footsteps is a welcome sound in any household.

But children grow by leaps and bounds.

Bronzing baby shoes is one way to preserve the memory of those first steps.

The tradition was started back in the 1930s.

In these shoes, a child learned to stand on his or her own two feet.

The baby shoes have joined a pile of others.

They're all about to be preserved forever.

They record information about the shoes' owners including personal details for engraving.

They assign a tracking number to each pair.

Without it, some shoes might not find their way back to their owners.

They stamp that number onto insoles.

There's a special coating on the insoles that will prevent the metal plating from sticking to them, so this number will be visible throughout processing.

They staple down the insoles and then dip the shoes in a special formula.

It chemically seals them and will also help stiffen them as they dry later.

But first they hang them to allow excess liquid to drip off.

They stuff each shoe with plastic to give it some shape.

They push a rolled plastic form into each shoe to complete the shaping.

They tie the laces, positioning the bows flat against the shoes so they won't break off during the rest of the process.

As an extra precaution, they wrap a rubber band around each bow and then glue it down.

With the shaping plastic removed and the shoes dried and stiffened, they drill holes into the bottoms of the soles.

This will allow them to be hung on prongs during plating later.

But before that happens, they stir up a mix of water, copper, and other ingredients.

They carefully submerge a rack full of baby shoes into the coppery liquid.

This isn't the final coating.

It's a key preparation step.

It makes the shoes electrically conductive so that they can be electroplated.

They hang the shoes to dry and dribble a little more of the liquid onto them to cover any bare spots.

They allow the finish to dry for a couple of days.

Then a worker lowers them into the electroplating tank.

An electrical current runs through to the shoes, attracting copper in the tank to plate them.

Using a special polishing wheel, they lightly scratch the bright copper finish on the shoes.

This prepares them for the next step.

They spray a black finish onto the shoes.

And then wipe it off, rubbing some into the crevices to give them an antique appearance.

Next, they spray them with a protective lacquer.

You can still see the identification number clearly on the insole, so they haven't lost track of the owner.

They attach the engraving plate onto a wood base and screw the shoes onto it.

Now they won't be going anywhere, except down memory lane.

And it seems there's no end to the bronze keepsakes that can also take you there, from cowboy boots to burgers on a bun.

Treadmills were invented back in the 1800s for the farm team.

Farmers put animals on treadmills to power butter churns and threshing machines.

It wasn't until the middle of the 20th century that people started working out on treadmills, and as a fitness concept, it's been a success.

In these high-tech treadmills, computer processors access your level of fitness and plot your workout program.

To make one, they punch holes in aluminum-frame side pieces.

These holes will be used to attach other parts.

But first, they weld joints to the side pieces.

And they weld brackets onto the platform that will hold the treadmill's motor.

They position the platform between two aluminum side pieces and screw it into place to complete the frame.

Next, they attach the elevation mechanism.

This piece will raise the treadmill belt.

They fasten wheels to the frame that will allow the treadmill to be rolled away for storage.

They turn over the treadmill frame and work on the underside.

They attach brackets for the rollers that go inside the belt.

Then they position the belt and deck over the frame.

They slide in the steel rollers...

And attach the drive belt.

They bolt a big shock absorber to the drive motor to dampen its vibration.

They install a strobe disk and then place an optical sensor over it.

With the help of this sensor, the strobe will monitor the motor speed 16 times per second.

They mount the drive motor for the treadmill belt on the special platform and bolt it into place.

At this point, they attach one of the computer boards.

It receives information from the optical sensor about the treadmill's speed and relays it to the computer in the control panel.

This will ensure that everything is in sync.

Here, they slide a protective casing over the framework.

They cap the ends, then turn over the machine once more to install the mechanism that allows the treadmill to be folded up when the workout is over.

They screw a plastic cover onto it to protect the bottom.

And it's over to the control system.

They stick the control membrane onto the plastic housing and attach a safety switch to the back.

Then they install the treadmill's other computer board in this housing.

They plug a lead wire into the safety switch and install a receiver to pick up the runner's heart rate.

They secure the handlebar assembly to the control housing and plug in the upper circuit board.

Now they close the back of the control system, and it's time for the two assemblies to come together.

They connect the upper and lower computer boards so they can communicate.

And then they give the treadmill a little test run to make sure it's in top form.

They put it through a range of elevations and check the belt to determine if it's running in the middle.

They adjust the belt to center it a little better.

And now this treadmill has passed inspection.

So they wipe away their footprints and press the brand label onto the hood.

They lower the hood onto the motor.

And now, this treadmill is ready to give you a good workout.

Handhelds, as they're called, are rugged computers designed for workers on the move.

You see them on delivery trucks, police cruisers, forklift trucks, and in large warehouses.

They process data in virtually any condition, from bad weather to rough roads.

So even though you're in the field, you're still plugged in.

From scanning bar codes to reading parking meters, handhelds provide information on location.

They start with the keyboard electronics panel.

They test each contact for conductivity.

Then they transfer the tracking number from the electronics panel to the inner casing, so it will be visible if it needs servicing.

They glue the electronics panel to the casing with silicone for a waterproof seal.

The rubber keypad goes on next.

Then they glue a protective plastic plate over it.

Next, they cut a silicone liner to the size of the computer screen.

It will help seal the unit, preventing water and dust from getting in.

They place the liner in a bracket behind the screen and then use this jig to align the screen to the computer casing.

A dab of threadlocker glue to the screws helps to hold it all together.

The top casing for this handheld computer is now assembled.

They move on to the back casing and install a speaker.

They apply a layer of silicone to a circuit board assembly, again, to resist water and dust from seeping into it.

This circuit board assembly goes into a hole in the back casing.

It will allow the unit to communicate with a central computer.

In the next step, they wire the speakers to the circuit board, and now the handheld has a sound system.

More silicone on these connections.

Then they install triggers to the scanner, one on each side.

They install a liner on the door for the memory card compartment.

Then they run the top assemblies for three hours in extreme temperatures.

Once the inner workings have been completely installed, they attach the top assemblies to the bottom ones.

They tuck the battery pack into its compartment and install the end cap.

It has an antenna for wireless communication.

Now they install a smartcard reader, because this particular handheld computer will be used for security checks on personal i.d. cards.

They test the laser scanner, then activate security software which reads fingerprints, allowing this handheld computer to do security or criminal checks on the spot.

When an unregistered person presses a finger onto the print reader, this is what happens.

Of course, mobile computers are designed to return to a home base, where they upload information to a main computer.

But first, randomly selected units get roughed up in a series of tests.

They toss this unit into a tumbler and it gets thrown around.

Then they drop it from a height of 6 1/2 feet.

They plunge it into a tank of water.

In the real world, things can be even tougher.

This computer ended up in a fire.

And this one was run over.

But even when it seems that they've been completely destroyed, information can still be salvaged.

Here, they transfer the memory board from one of the wrecked units to an undamaged one.

They hook it up to a central computer and retrieve the information.

These are tough computers for those on the go.