External Hard Drives
Frozen Shrimp
Thai Rice Boxes
Paper Towels

In the digital world, like the real one, it helps to have extra storage space.

An external hard drive stores data separate from a computer to expand storage capacity.

It also preserves memory.

So in the event that the computer drive crashes, all is not lost.

50 years ago, external hard drives were the size of refrigerators.

Today, they squeeze a lot more memory into drives the size of chocolate bars.

On the hard-drive assembly line, there's not a speck of dust.

An air-filtering system sucks particles out of the air to keep them from contaminating the drive and compromising its function.

Production starts with the motor base.

An employee installs a voice-coil magnet.

It's one of two that will move the drive heads to write information on rotating disks.

They're called voice coils because they operate on the same principle as loudspeakers.

Next, a robot places one of the hard-drive disks in the motor base.

A camera snaps a photo to send information to guide the robot so it positions the disk exactly.

Another robot places a round, metal spacer at the center of the disk-- again, relying on the camera's eye for guidance.

It sets a second disk on top of the spacer.

This is a two-disk hard drive, but a drive can have several, depending on the amount of storage needed.

A robot locks the disks into place with a stainless-steel clamp.

This next part is a plastic ramp.

The ramp is a place to park the disk-drive heads when they're not engaged in reading and writing data.

Those tiny heads have been preassembled to one end of the head arm.

They attach the other end of the arm to the lower voice coil in the base and then situate the second voice coil above it.

To maintain its squeaky-clean interior, a robot inserts a thin cotton filter.

This filter will capture dust particles in the event that some infiltrate the hard drive.

A robot now places a metal cover on the other side of the drive.

Another robot then screws the cover to the motor base.

With the inner workings now encased, the hard drive can be moved out of the air-filtered section of the factory.

A worker collects the hard-drive assemblies and slots them into a tote box.

Once a circuit board has been added, they transfer the hard drives to a test chamber.

Behind the closed door of the chamber, a robot swings into action.

It plucks a hard drive from the tote box and plugs it into a test cell to confirm that it's functional.

Outside, employees go about their daily business, as the robot methodically tests each hard drive in the tote boxes.

Once a tote of drives is confirmed to be operational, the chamber ejects them and a worker then does a visual inspection of each one.

She looks for scratches or other damage that could hinder its function.

There's another slightly different system for testing.

In this one, the employee places each drive on a conveyor that delivers it to a robot tester.

Having two tester systems ensures that if one goes down, they still have another one to carry on.

After all, like humans, robots are not infallible.

At the packing station now, there's one last visual inspection.

The employee scans the drive's serial number so its production can be traced in the event of a problem later.

She then seals it in plastic.

This hard drive is now ready to accept data and ensure that someone doesn't totally lose it if their computer drive crashes.

People have been noshing on shrimp since the beginning of time, but it hasn't always been an easy catch.

Wild stocks declined in the 20th century.

Shrimp farms emerged to supply what nature couldn't.

Factories process the harvest, ensuring an abundance of ready-to-eat shrimp for the freezer.

Jumbo shrimp have long been big on the cocktail circuit.

Today, it comes prepped and frozen, complete with cocktail sauce.

Just unwrap and thaw.

Shrimp cocktail is one of the many ready-to-eat dishes prepared at this factory in thailand.

Fresh from the farm, the shrimp undergoes a quick cold-water rinse.

It then rides a perforated conveyor.

Rinse water drains through the holes in the conveyor to keep the shrimp from becoming soggy.

Still cool from the icy bath, the curly crustaceans spill off the conveyor into plastic baskets.

They weigh each basket and then transfer the shrimp to a larger tub.

To keep the chill on, they add crushed ice between loads.

A temperature of 50 degrees fahrenheit or less must be maintained throughout processing, or quality will suffer.

It's now time for the inevitable-- the deheading.

Using a metal tool that's like an open thimble, workers pull the heads off the shrimp with a few quick tugs.

The deheading line is a long and busy one.

The headless shrimp now travel to sizing rollers.

The space between the rollers is narrow at first and wider further down.

As the rollers spin, smaller shrimp fall through first, and the larger ones continue on to fall through further down.

They accumulate in different piles on conveyors below.

This separates the shrimp into five size categories.

Out of the sorter, an employee samples the shrimp's temperature to confirm that it remains adequately chilled.

Deheaded and sorted by size, these shrimp are now ready to come out of their shells.

On the shelling line, some workers cut the tails off and others leave them on, because there's a market for both.

After they peel away the shell, they cut out the digestive tract that runs along the back.

It's often referred to as the vein because it looks like one.

Workers on this line peel and devein 800 shrimp an hour.

The shrimp then goes to different prep zones.

At this one, an employee dips tail-on shrimp into an egg mixture and then dredges them in rice flour.

He sends them down the line to the next worker.

He rolls the floured shrimp in rice paper.

As you can see, there's a bit of trick to this.

He moistens the edges of the rice paper to seal the wrap.

The result is a spring-roll appetizer that can be frozen until it's ready to be cooked and served.

In another area, a worker prepares a breaded recipe-- again, using shrimp with the tail still on.

This is finger food and, with the tails on the shrimp, will be easier to grip.

He soaks it in seasonings and coats it in breadcrumbs.

Then he dips it in egg batter and breads it again.

The second coating of crumbs will give the shrimp extra crunch when fried.

The tray is now full, and so it's over to the fry belt.

After a quick trip through hot oil, the breaded shrimp is perfectly fried.

All the shrimp, including this raw product, take a blustery ride through a freezer.

Spread evenly across the conveyor, they freeze individually rather than in big, icy clumps.

So you don't have to thaw a whole bunch to get a few shrimp.

The frozen shrimp falls into weigh stations.

At the correct amount, the bottom opens to release them.

An ice glaze will protect them from freezer burn.

These frozen-shrimp products are ready to leave the factory.

From the freezer to the oven to your taste buds.

With all the prep work done at the factory, these frozen-shrimp products are quite a treat.

Rice is an integral part of the asian diet, so it's not surprising to find special storage vessels for it.

In thailand, the traditional container is a rice box-- a covered jar handwoven from bamboo and often beautifully decorated.

They're also produced as decorative items for export.

Thai rice boxes started out as an ordinary household container for cooked, sticky rice.

Today, they're sought-after handicrafts, produced in a range of sizes for storage of all kinds or simply for decoration.

Each box is handcrafted from start to finish.

The artisan begins with thin strips of bamboo.

He splits the strips with his fingernail to make them the width required for the box size he's weaving.

He lines up the first few strips on the floor and holds them steady with his foot as he weaves strips crosswise through them in an under-one, over-two sequence.

He continues weaving this pattern until he produces a square that's large enough to form the base of the box.

He sprays the base with water to soften up the bamboo.

This prevents the strips from breaking when he now bends them upward to begin weaving the sides of the box.

Once he's completed the sides, he begins weaving the box's neck, pulling the strips laterally in a circular direction.

He alternates, folding one strip upward, one strip downward.

He trims the downward strips, then inserts the ends through the woven sides.

Next, pulling the strips through the middle, he fits a bamboo ring over the outside of the neck, then another along the inside of the neck, locking the remaining upward strips in between.

This immobilizes the strips, eliminating any need for nails or glue.

It also adds rigidity, reinforcing the neck's round shape.

A quick trim of the remaining strips, and the box is fully constructed.

He then makes a lid using the same materials and technique.

Next, artisans coat the outside of the box and lid with a mixture of chalk, glue, and sawdust.

They let the coating dry in the sun for a day or two, until the surface becomes hard and smooth like clay.

Now an artist gets to work, first applying two base coats of acrylic paint.

Once the base coats are dry, she places the box on a turntable and applies a coat of the background color.

Once that dries, she begins outlining the design.

Then she fills in the design.

Once that's dry, the fine details.

It's here that you see the artistry emerge.

Once the artwork has dried, they encircle the neck with a band of rattan, then with strips of rattan, tie the box to a wooden stand.

At the base of each corner, they weave the rattan strips into a decorative pattern.

Not only is this rice box entirely handmade...

The artisans never use templates, never take measurements.

They do it all by eye.

The inside of the box remains bare.

The idea is to see the bamboo and how skillfully it's woven.

It's a natural, nontoxic surface, against which it's safe to store rice.

Paper towels were invented in the u.s. in the 1920s.

The idea of a one-use, disposable paper cloth for cleaning and drying proved popular.

And by 1931, paper towels were being mass-marketed.

Today, a paper towel roll is such a staple in the kitchen that an attractive holder for it is a must.

A paper towel always comes in handy to soak up a spill, clean a surface, or simply dry wet hands.

The embossed pattern is not just decoration-- it actually makes the paper towel more absorbent by creating liquid-suctioning empty spaces in between the towel's two layers, called plies.

This brand is made from 100% recycled fibers, primarily white paper obtained from office waste.

The paper goes into a large machine called the pulper, which breaks it up into fibers, then blends those fibers with water to produce a mushy substance called pulp.

A built-in filter removes all the non-paper materials, such as plastic windows from envelopes and staples.

The next machine removes the ink by injecting the pulp with air.

The ink detaches from the pulp fibers and clings to the air bubbles, which rise to the top and drain off.

The pulp goes through a press, which, with a series of rollers, squeezes out the water.

A screw conveyor then breaks up the pulp and moves it to the next station, which whitens it with a peroxide-based bleaching agent, then rinses it thoroughly with clean water.

Next, and this is off limits to the camera for competitive reasons, they apply a chemical wet-strength agent, then form it into a sheet of paper nearly eight feet wide.

The wet-strength agent, as the term suggests, keeps the paper towel intact when wet.

Without this fortifying treatment, paper towels would be as fragile as toilet paper.

After forming the paper, the machine winds it up into giant rolls.

These rolls will feed the converting line, the automated stations which transform the paper into paper towels.

Two rolls feed the line simultaneously, each providing one ply of the two-ply paper towel.

But before the plies hit the converting line, the factory's quality-control lab analyzes samples in both the wet and dry state.

The testing machine pulls both ends of the sample until it tears, measuring whether the paper meets strength specifications.

On the converting line, one ply travels under an embossing roller, which presses a textured design onto the paper.

Another roller then applies a thin coat of glue onto the raised portions of the pattern.

The next station lays the embossed and glued ply on top of the second still-flat ply.

Then a fine-tooth knife cuts the perforated lines, which will separate the individual sheets on the paper towel roll.

The next machine winds 100 sheets around a cardboard tube.

That's the length of one paper towel roll.

A machine called the accumulator transports these logs, as they're called, to the cutting station...

Where every 10 inches, a rotating circular saw slices through four logs simultaneously.

This divides each log into a dozen finished paper towel rolls.

The next station groups the rolls for packaging either by 6 or by 12.

The packaging machine encases the group rolls in printed plastic...

Then heat-seals the wrapping closed.

Paper towel consumption is highest in north america, where factories produce 50 trillion rolls per year.


Heather Gems
Instant Film
Beet Sugar
Electric Roadsters

Manufactured gemstones are typically designed to imitate genuine mined gemstones.

Not these--  they're made from heather, a hardy flowering plant which grows wild across scotland.

For centuries, scots used heather to thatch roofs, stuff mattresses, and even brew ale.

This scottish company turns heather into gemstone material for jewelry and other gift items.

Heathergems, as they're called, have veinlike patterns created randomly by the plants' stems.

Therefore, no two gems can be identical.

When the handpicked heather arrives at the factory, its green foliage still clings to the upper part of the stems.

After cutting the plants into lengths of about 10 inches, workers load them into a sandblasting machine.

The drum rotates for about half an hour while tiny iron pellets blast the heather inside.

The pellets chip away the bark and remove the foliage.

The heather comes out of the machine as bare, dried-out, delicate wood.

Workers form 1 1/2-pound bundles and place them in a vacuum-die chamber for two whole days.

First, the vacuum draws out the air in the stems to clear the way for the die to penetrate.

Then, again under pressure, the stems slowly absorb the dye.

This vacuum method is far more effective than dipping or soaking the stems in vats of dye because the color penetrates deeply into the heather wood rather than merely sitting on the surface.

They open the bundles and make new ones of the same weight, this time combining colors.

It's important to combine thicker stems with thinner ones to create contrasting lines in the gem pattern.

Next, they soak each bundle in epoxy resin for two or three minutes, ensuring the stems are well saturated.

Then they place the bundles on racks to allow the excess resin to drain off.

They load four bundles between the top and bottom halves of a mold.

A press then slowly closes the mold, applying 88 tons of pressure for about a minute.

They clamp the mold closed and remove it from the press.

Then they put the mold into an oven for an hour to cure the resin.

They open the mold and remove what is now a rock-hard, resin-bonded block of heather wood.

They put the block on a band saw and trim off the rough edges.

They cut slices between 4/10 and 5/10 of an inch thick, depending on what shape gem they'll be making.

After gluing each slice onto a plastic backing, a robotic cutting machine guided by a computer cuts the gem shapes.

Then workers simply pop the gems off the plastic backing.

This domed oval shape is called a cabochon.

The finishing team smoothes and polishes each gem on a belt sander, then applies four or five coats of clear lacquer.

Lacquering draws out the colors while sealing and protecting the wood.

Finally, they glue each gem onto the jewelry or gift item.

Sometimes they dye the heather just a single color.

This still produces a striking gem, because the dye penetrates the wood with different intensities, creating contrasting shades.

The signature feature is the unique veining produced by the heather encased within, each and every gemstone truly capturing the natural beauty of the scottish highlands.

Invented in the middle of the 20th century, instant film made photographic images materialize almost magically.

The picture appeared in minutes.

No more waiting for days for film to be processed.

Today it's a digital world, but instant film is still getting plenty of exposure.

With instant film, you can watch an image develop before your very eyes-- no film lab or digital printer necessary.

Just say, "cheese," and wait to see what develops.

Many decades after its invention, instant photo development still seems like a neat trick.

Making the magic happen is a many-layered process, one that involves multiple materials and chemicals.

Production begins with the film negative.

It takes place in the dark to prevent pre-exposure.

The technician dons night-vision goggles, allowing him to monitor plastic film as it unwinds into a coating machine.

Inside, various dyes and chemicals will transform the film into a negative.

They switch the lights back on briefly for our camera.

The film travels up and down towards the coating machine.

It's a system that prevents any slackening in the feed.

The coating is also done in the dark, so this worker demonstrates the process for our camera on a small research machine.

Liquid photo chemicals and dyes flow onto the surface of the plastic film.

He spreads the liquids across the film for an even application.

This is all done mechanically inside the real coating machine.

Once coated, the film will head into the dryer.

The various coatings will dry in separate layers without intermingling.

Here's a test tube lineup of the liquid components of the negative.

The colorful ones are dyes, and the white ones are other chemicals.

They apply black backing to the negative to block light, again preventing pre-exposure.

The trip through the dryer is 87 yards long.

Hot air dries the chemicals on the surface of the film.

Once again, it all happens in the dark to protect the light-sensitive film.

Coiled up and packed into lighttight drums, the color-negative material is now on its way to a second factory to be assembled into the instant film pack.

Upon arrival, they thread the negative onto a machine, along with other materials for the film pack.

They include a plastic base material called the mask and the positive paper that receives the photographic image from the negative.

The various materials are steered toward assembly stations by a system of rollers.

Here's a lineup of the various materials to be assembled.

That's the mask on the far left and the negative in the middle.

The negative heads towards a series of hot presses.

One press laminates a plastic spacer called the rail to the negative.

Another lamination head applies the mask to the positive sheet that will receive the image.

On a different machine, equipment folds a kind of foil pouch and injects it with film developer.

Here's an inside look at the pouch.

The blue liquid is the developer.

Encased in the foil-lined envelope, it will stay fresh until needed.

Back on the main assembly machine, another hot press laminates the developer pouch to the other film materials.

This completes the film sandwich, and it heads into another station to be sliced into photo-sized pieces.

The photo frames ride a wheel with a counter that divides them into stacks of eight.

Meanwhile, robot arms deposit a rectangular spring on a battery.

Then they position the eight pictures on the spring-battery assembly, followed by a light-blocking cover.

The stack then moves forward to be squeezed into a plastic cassette.

A suction type of device now picks up a cardboard box and transfers it to the end of the film-pack line.

Another device captures the film pack as it comes off the line and places it in the cardboard box.

Once folded closed, the box of instant film rides the carousel to a scale.

A quick weighing confirms there's enough film in the box, so it's ready to ship.

The assembly of this instant film pack has taken roughly three minutes.

Now those instant memories are just a few clicks away.

A common assumption is that all white sugar is derived from sugar cane, but 30% of the world's white-sugar supply comes from the sugar beet.

While sugarcane grows only in tropical climates, the hardier sugar beet can be cultivated in cooler regions and in poorer soil.

It takes about 7 beets to produce a little more than 2 pounds of sugar.

The by-products of processing, molasses and beet pulp, are used for animal feed.

The processing of sugar beets yields various grades of sugar.

The lower ones are reprocessed to become white sugar.

Farmers plant beet seeds in the spring and harvest the mature crop in the fall.

Mechanical harvesters attack six rows at a time.

They rip the plant out of the ground, chop off the leaves and crown, leaving just the bulbous root.

A beet root typically weighs about 2 pounds.

17% to 18% of that is sucrose, which is sugar.

A loader transfers the harvested beets into trucks.

The loader's sieve removes about a third of the soil along the way.

When the trucks arrive at the sugar factory, they unload the beets, soil and stones included, onto a conveyer belt, which transports them to a washing station.

First they head into a revolving drum, where, under a shower of water, the beets rub against each other, dislodging the soil.

The water flow floats the beets, which then exit the drum.

The stones stay behind, collected in separator buckets along the edge.

A screw conveyer moves the beets to a transfer system, which brings them inside the factory to be processed into sugar.

Inside, slicing machines cut the incoming beets into cassettes, strips about the shape of french fries but smaller.

The cassettes travel on a conveyer belt into a large tank of hot water, where they soak for a few minutes.

This gets their cell membranes to begin opening, clearing the way for the sucrose to exit during the next operation, in which the cassettes are pumped to the bottom of a 22-yard-high extraction tower.

A rotating shaft within the tower transports them slowly upward against the downward flow of hot water.

This draws out the sucrose, producing a sugary water called raw juice.

The next step is to purify this raw juice.

In a giant kiln, they burn limestone with coke to produce the chemical compound calcium hydroxide, also called lime milk.

They add it, in several stages, to the raw juice.

Meanwhile, they press the sucrose-stripped cassettes into pulp to sell as animal feed.

They add carbon dioxide to the lime milk-and-juice mixture.

This absorbs 1/3 of the juice's impurities, enabling a filtration system to remove them.

The raw juice exits as a golden sugar solution called thin juice.

The thin juice then enters a 6-step evaporation process, which reduces it to a thick syrup-like juice.

From there, they pump it into a 4-phase crystallization system.

In phase 1, they heat and add seed crystals, tiny, identical-sized sugar crystals made separately using a complex cooling and evaporating process.

As the water in the juice evaporates, about half of the sucrose crystallizes, growing the seed crystals.

Then a centrifuge machine separates the crystals, called refined sugar, from the remaining syrup.

The syrup goes through this crystallization-centrifuge process three more times, producing a lesser grade of sugar each time.

The factory dissolves and recrystallizes the lowest two grades.

The highest grades of sugar go into dryers, on the way, passing through a screening machine which separates any crystals which are too large.

The factory dissolves these crystals, then puts the sugary liquid through the crystallization process again.

So, in the end, there are two grades of beet sugar which go into silos, where they're stored until it's time to package them for sale as refined sugar and white sugar.

The electric car ruled the road early in the 20th century, and then the technology was surpassed by gas.

Today the concept is cruising towards a comeback, its resurgence fueled by concerns about pollution from gas-powered vehicles and by worries about overdependence on foreign oil.

This sassy-looking sports car is leading the charge for change.

Just plug it into any electrical outlet, and after a few hours, it has enough juice for a drive through the countryside or for quite a few jaunts around town.

With no tailpipe, there are no direct emissions, and if the power generated by the electrical plant is clean, everyone breathes a little easier.

But with a price tag in the 6-figure range, this eco-friendly roadster is a luxury product.

Production begins with the first half of the gear box.

A worker bolts a brass fitting to the center and then attaches plastic tubing to it.

The tubing will deliver lubricant to the transmission's bearings.

He inserts those bearings into slots in the gearbox and presses them into place using a hydraulic tool.

He drips thread-locking compound into screw holes and installs a device for locking the transmission.

It's called the parking pawl.

He applies more adhesive to screws and threads them through the pawl to the gearbox.

Using a calibrated torque wrench, he tightens them to a precise setting.

The transmission is single speed with four gears, which they install in the other half of the gearbox.

These are helical gears.

Their teeth are cut at an angle for gradual engagement and smooth operation.

They're now ready for the rotor and the stator.

Both are electromagnets, and together they'll be the electric motor's driving force.

They insert the rotor into the stator, where their two electromagnetic fields will interact to create torque, transforming electrical energy into mechanical energy.

They hoist the rotor-and-stator assembly onto the gearbox and bolt them together.

They attach cables for wiring the motor to the power-electronics module later.

It's a crucial part that processes and regulates the flow of battery power to the motor.

This completes the electric-motor drivetrain.

They lower the drivetrain into the back of the preassembled car body.

They position the motor mounts over slots in the steel subframe.

And once in place, they bolt the drivetrain to the chassis.

Now, under the car, they pull back the rear suspension temporarily to attach the drive axle to the gearbox.

The axle is equipped with a rubber-encased joint that allows a rear wheel to react to bumps independently, without reverberation to the other.

The battery is next.

Seen here in a display model of the power train, the metal pack contains more than 6,800 lithium-ion cells and delivers 215 kilowatts of power, enough juice to enable this electric car to accelerate to 60 miles an hour in under 4 seconds.

Machinery now lowers the car onto the battery, positioning it in the front of the gearbox and just behind the car seats.

They jack up the battery for a precision fit.

They connect wiring for low-voltage systems, like the lights and fans.

And now the brains of the electric car-- the power-electronics module.

They install it on top of the motor and battery and wire it to both.

With all the wires connected, the module is equipped to convert dc power from the battery to the ac power.

It will then supply that current to the motor as the driver steps on the accelerator.

With the vacuum system, they drain air from the battery and pump in liquid coolant.

Coolant continuously flows through the battery to maintain an even temperature throughout.

The body panels are made of durable, lightweight carbon fiber.

And with the computer software updated and the car now completely assembled, it's time for a test run.

As this sports car accelerates, there's no throaty roar.

Unlike a gas-powered engine, the electric motor takes off quietly and quickly.


Residential Water Heaters
Air Bags
Jelly Beans
Ice Resurfacers

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

Residential water heaters...

Air bags...

Jelly beans...

And ice resurfacers.

The residential water heater was invented back in 1889, and the basic concept still applies today.

It heats water, usually with natural gas, propane, or electricity, then keeps it continuously hot so that you always have a supply ready for the bathroom, kitchen, or anywhere else you need it.

Water heaters may look plain, but there's a lot going on inside.

To make one, a hydraulic press transforms a round, steel blank into a dome shape.

This dome will form the base of a gas-heated tank, and it will hold the burner.

Next, rollers behind and above curl a sheet of steel around a cylinder.

This forms the inner-tank shape.

A seam-welder device then pinches the two ends of the tank shape together and welds them.

In the next step, a worker positions the tank body under a projection-welder.

He selects a threaded fitting, places it on the tank, and lowers the welder.

This projection-welder uses 10,000 volts of electricity to fuse fittings to the tank body.

It also welds fittings to the top of the tank.

Valves and other parts will be screwed into these fittings later.

Next, a press applies over 27 tons of force to fit a top onto the tank.

Then they spray liquid enamel inside of the spinning tank.

It will be baked in at 1,650 fahrenheit for 45 minutes to prevent rusting.

Now it's back to the bottom of the tank.

A worker inserts a flue tube in a hole in the center, and an automated welder joins it to the tank base.

The flue will vent gases from the burner.

After anti-rust enamel coating is baked onto the base and flue, they lower the tank body onto it.

Next, robotic welding arms work both ends of the tank.

One welds the base to it, the other bonds the flue to the top.

Now the pressure test.

They pump air into the tank and then pour water over the outside.

If water bubbles on the tank, it means air is escaping and there's a leak that needs to be fixed.

Here they install elements in an electric water heater...

And they hook up a thermostat and the wires that run to it.

Now it's time to make the tank's outer shell, or jacket.

An operator slides a painted-steel shape onto a mandrel so that it becomes cylindrical.

A lockformer then moves along a rail, folding and pressing the seam together.

Next, a rollformer crimps the top and bottom edges so that lids can be easily installed.

Here they drape a plastic apron over a tank...

And then slide on its jacket, or tank shell, with just the electric components exposed.

They screw a steel cover over them.

Here's a demonstration of what's next.

A chemical reaction causes polyurethane foam to expand in seconds.

They inject this expanding foam into the plastic apron that's now between the tank and outer shell.

The foam will insulate the tank.

Now they finish installing the wiring on this electric heater...

And then do an inspection.

It makes the grade.

On gas heaters, they slide a burner into the dome-shaped base and then connect the burner tubes to the gas valve.

They attach some wiring that controls the burner ignition...

And then hook it up to the gas line for a test run.

That inner glow is the burner at work.

They light a torch on the flame and pass it over the valve to check for little gas leaks.

It didn't ignite, so there aren't any.

It gets the seal of approval, and now it's up to the consumer to test the water when it's installed.

The air bag was invented in the 1960s, but it actually didn't catch on until several years later.

By the 1980s, automakers were installing them in most vehicles.

Air bags deploy when sensors detect a sudden deceleration and inflate them, giving vehicle occupants the protection they need.

This side-curtain air bag inflates in less than .

020 of a second.

Blink, and you'll miss it.

Air bags don't have any seams because they're woven in one piece.

Big, computerized looms weave at a blurring speed-- 600 revolutions per minute.

They're called air-jet lacquered looms.

They lift and lower each nylon yarn to make an intricate one-piece fabric.

Up to 10,700 yarns could be used to make the material.

If even one of the thousands of yarns break, an electrical sensor will detect it and shut the loom down.

It's a step to ensure quality control.

Despite this rapid weaving action, the loom produces just over 26 feet of fabric an hour.

That's because it's very dense fabric.

That density will allow the air bag to stand up to the force of deployment.

Now the woven fabric goes through an inspection station.

As automated rollers wind it up, a worker examines it.

If it's acceptable, he signs it off.

Next, it's on to the scouring station.

Here a machine unwinds the air-bag fabric as rollers guide it towards a wash-and-dry system that's 118 feet long.

The rollers draw the air-bag material through a number of big wash tanks to ensure a thorough cleaning.

Then a series of hot rollers dry and press the fabric.

The freshly laundered air-bag material moves through the coating machine.

A hose pumps liquid silicone onto the fabric, and a scraper overhead distributes it.

As a worker scoops some up, you can see that it's as thick as molasses.

The silicone seals the air-bag fabric.

But it's wet and sticky and needs to dry, so it passes through a series of ovens heated to about 370 degrees fahrenheit.

As it dries, the silicone cures to the fabric.

Now a computer-guided laser cuts the material with the precision and speed that no human could ever replicate.

Black lines woven into the fabric assist the laser as it cuts the air-bag design.

At any point in time, it's cutting multiple air bags out of the fabric.

When the job is done, the conveyor belt moves the air bags forward.

And now they're scrutinized by humans.

A worker pulls the one-piece air bag across a template and examines it to make sure the dimensions match.

Then it's sent over to the sewing station.

Although the air bags have been seamlessly woven, attachment and reinforcements still need to sewn on.

The stitching is computer-controlled.

A worker feeds the fabric to the sewing machine and then simply presses a button.

The machine stitches together the tabs that will connect the air bag to the inside of the vehicle frame just above the side window.

Here it sews a tether onto the bag.

This strip of fabric will also be used to hold the air bag in place.

Now it's time to test a sample air bag from the production run.

And, yes, it works perfectly.

The jelly bean is a colorful treat.

But, unfortunately, no one is sure exactly when the jelly bean was invented or how.

It's believed that the jelly center dates back to biblical times as a candy called turkish delight.

Many centuries later, the outer shell was added, thus making the jelly bean we know today.

The jelly bean is very popular.

Billions are sold at easter alone.

To make jelly beans, they heat liquid sugar in a big kettle to 347 degrees fahrenheit.

They add glucose, which is a more concentrated sugar, and then starch.

An agitating device mixes it all together...

While elsewhere in the factory, starch spills out of a drum onto big trays.

A leveler moves back and forth to even out the starch on the trays.

The trays then move forward, and a brush knocks off the excess starch.

It will be recycled.

A molding board now presses down into the starch.

It makes 756 jelly-bean impressions in the starch in each tray.

The impressions in the starch will serve as molds for the jelly-bean centers.

Nozzles inject the sugar-and-starch mix cooked in the kettle into the starch molds.

This system can make almost a million jelly-bean centers an hour.

Next, the conveyor belt takes the jelly-bean centers to the drying room, where they stay for 24 hours.

This solidifies them.

They become chewier.

Arms flip the trays of dried candy centers in starch and dump them into a big drum that will separate them.

When the trays flip back, they're refilled with starch, and the molding process begins again.

Meanwhile, the dried jelly-bean centers, now separated from the starch, tumble out of the drum onto a wire-mesh conveyor system.

It transports them to a steam belt, which dampens them.

This readies them for the next step-- sugarcoating.

The jelly-bean centers go into a sander drum that tosses them around while nozzles spray them with sugar.

In another part of the factory, liquid sugar flows out of a kettle into a tub.

A worker adds blue food coloring to the syrup, and then he blends it in.

This mix is called engrossing syrup.

He adds the engrossing syrup, along with some flavoring, to the jelly-bean centers as they tumble around in a tilted, spinning pan.

After they turn a very sticky blue, the worker dumps some sugar into the pan.

This process is repeated four times in order to build up a coating around the gummy center.

The next day, when the beans have hardened, they add hot syrup to the mix and toss the beans around again.

This polishes the jelly beans.

There's a lot of sweet stuff here-- 124,000 jelly beans in each pan.

Now he adds a little wax.

And as the pan spins, the beans rub against each other, distributing the wax.

This adds gloss to the polish.

Then the pan stops spinning, and the jelly beans air dry for 24 hours to allow the glaze to set.

It's the finishing touch.

After 3 1/2 days, this big batch of jelly beans is ready.

They move in a multi-colored mass along a series of conveyors.

They fall into a scale system that portions them out for specific bag sizes.

Then a trap door opens, and they drop down a chute to the packaging department.

Once they're in the bag, the jelly beans are ready to sweeten your day.

In just minutes, an ice resurfacer can smooth the surface of an ice-skating or hockey rink.

Before it was invented in 1949, it took several workers over an hour to resurface the ice using scrapers, squeegees, and hoses.

Today, these machines provide quick, uniform results.

If you ice-skate, you're thankful for this machine.

It smooths the ice in just a few turns around the rink.

To make an ice resurfacer, they weld together steel pieces to build the mainframe.

The frame has to be very strong because it will support everything from the engine to the water tank.

It's a load of almost 3 tons.

Sparks fly as they grind smooth the areas where parts will be mounted.

The sparks are actually steel fragments being sanded off.

Next, they weld support braces with holes in them to the center of the water tank.

These are called baffles, and the holes will allow the water to flow into both ends of the tank.

Now they slide a piece of spiraling steel, which is auger flighting, on one end of a pipe.

And they slip a piece that twists in the opposite direction on the other end of it.

They weld a u-shaped paddle to the pipe between the two steel spirals, or flightings.

The paddle is a critical part.

The flightings will feed ice shavings to it, and the paddle will then toss them to a bin mounted above a water tank to be disposed of later.

Next, the worker clamps the flighting to a hydraulic cylinder.

He turns a lever, and hydraulic energy pulls the clamp, drawing the auger flighting snugly to the pipe.

As the clamp holds the flighting in position, he welds it to the pipe.

Now they're solidly sealed together.

Next, another worker places a long steel blade on a magnetic table.

The magnets hold it down while a grinding machine moves over it, sharpening the edge.

Because the grinding generates heat, the machine also floods the blade with water.

This cools it down so the steel stays hard.

Now, using a crane, they lower an engine onto the frame that we saw welded together earlier.

Then they slide the rear drive shaft into place and bolt it down using a pneumatic wrench.

The tires for an ice resurfacer will need some serious traction.

Each tire gets 92 of these metal studs.

They drop the studs into a revolving feeder.

The studs funnel down a tube to the stud gun, ensuring that it never runs out of ammunition.

The road these tires travel will be nothing but a sheet of ice, and these studs should allow them to stay the course.

Next, using a crane, they transfer the water tank to the center of the frame.

The snow bin, which will hold the scraped ice, is next.

They place it on pivot points at the front.

Then workers slide the blade into place.

The bolt it tightly, working from the center outward.

The workers are shielded from the very sharp blade by a plastic sleeve that sheathes the edge.

When the blade is secure, they remove the plastic.

Now it's time to give the ice resurfacer a test run.

The steel flightings twist towards the paddle at the center, as they should.

Here's a close-up of that razor-sharp blade that will shave the ice.

A rectangular scraper slides over the flightings, preventing snow from building up and clogging the system.

This ice resurfacer is now ready for the rink, and it's sure to smooth the ice for years to come.


Rolled Wafers
Wood Pellets
Class & Championship Rings

At some point many centuries ago, the thin, communion-style wafer took a delicious twist with the creation of the rolled wafer cookie.

The exact origin of this tubular treat isn't known, but it has been traced back to syrian christian pastry makers during the middle ages.

Long and elegant, the rolled wafer is one classy cookie.

It's crispy on the outside and creamy at the core for a sweet fusion of flavor and texture.

It could be served as a garnish for the main dessert or on its own.

It is, of course, a matter of taste.

Ingredients for the rolled wafer include flour, sugar, cocoa powder, whey powder, milk powder, and dark chocolate.

There are 20 ingredients in total.

They load each one into a separate bin.

The bins all funnel into one of two big mixers one floor below.

One mixer blends the wafer batter, and the other prepares the cream filling.

A central computer controls the flow from the bins to the mixers.

It measures and releases the ingredients to follow the recipe exactly.

The computer also assigns a lot number to each batch, so if there's a problem with the product, they'll be able to track the source and fix it.

Down below, in the wafer mixer, the batter is looking pretty smooth.

They're aiming for a consistency that's similar to pancake batter.

A worker scoops up some to check it.

Too runny or too thick, and the wafer won't have the right crunch.

The batch is just right.

The wafer batter now flows onto four metal plates that spread it onto an immense rotating wheel, creating four very thin ribbons of batter.

Gas flames heat the wheel to 300 degrees fahrenheit to toast the batter strips.

At this high temperature, the toasted pastry has yet to crisp up.

It's soft and flexible, which means it's ready to roll.

Coming off the wheel, the wafer pastry winds around a revolving mandrill and quickly cools, generating a continuous wafer roll.

The chocolate hazelnut cream filling is looking delicious by now, and machinery pumps it through a hole in the wafer-forming mandrill.

As the wafer takes shape, the mandrill pumps the cream into it.

This mechanized system is faster than hand-rolling, and the wafers it generates are more uniform.

The long, rolled wafer now spins off the mandrill and heads into a tunnel.

Inside, a little ax swings down to chop it into wafer-sized pieces.

The rolled wafer exits onto a slide and makes a gentle landing onto a conveyor.

The cream inside the cookie is still fluid, and the pastry itself is still somewhat pliable.

The next stage of production will solidify everything.

It's a trip through a cooling tunnel.

On this stage of the journey, the various components of the rolled wafer crystallize to their final form, and they emerge crispy enough to be handled by the employees.

They identify any damaged wafers and discard them as they arrange the cookies for packaging.

This means compartmentalizing them in groups on a slotted conveyor.

After that, the little stacks of rolled wafers travel through a curtain of plastic.

Machinery cuts and heat-seals the wrapping in this completely automated packaging system.

The plastic will keep the wafers fresh, but it won't protect them from breakage.

That's the job of the metal can.

After an ink-jet-like device prints the freshness code on the bottom, the cans ride a magnetized wheel which flips them to an upright position.

A worker then fills each can with the plastic-encased wafers and puts a lid on the top.

Modern manufacturing has revolutionized the making of these rolled wafers.

Once individually rolled and baked by hand, machinery now does most of the work, producing more than 100,000 rolled wafers per hour.

But, of course, the taste is still all about tradition.

Unlike a conventional wood stove that burns firewood, a pellet stove uses wood pellets as fuel.

Made from lumber byproducts such as sawdust and wood chips, which would otherwise end up as waste, pellets burn more efficiently and more cleanly than wood and produce very little air pollution.

A pellet stove has an on-board storage container called a hopper that holds, depending on the model, up to 80 pounds of wood pellets.

Several computer chips monitor the stove's heating performance, dictating the rate at which the hopper automatically feeds pellets into the stove's firepot.

The heat output is manually adjustable or can be controlled by a thermostat.

Wood pellets burn far more cleanly than logs, and the fire is smoke-free.

Wood pellets are made from a variety of raw materials-- sawdust, wood chips, wood shavings, small logs, even scraps of wood left over from furniture and other manufacturing.

These different types of lumber byproducts first have to be reduced to the same size and consistency.

Therefore, the first stop is a huge grinding machine.

Inside, mammoth steel hammers pulverize the raw material to uniform pieces.

The raw material contains about 45% moisture, so it goes into a dryer to reduce the moisture level to between 11% and 12%.

So what was rough, raw material has now been ground to a finer state and dried.

But it's still not fine enough, so it goes into a mill, which processes it further until it's roughly the size of rice grains.

A feed pipe transfers what is now wood fiber to a row of presses.

These are the machines which make the pellets.

The moisture content of the fiber is critical.

If it's too wet, the pellet presses risk clogging up.

That's why each pellet press has a readout displaying the fiber moisture level.

As an added measure, the factory draws fiber samples and sends them to the quality-control lab for analysis.

It's essential for the stability of the pellets that the moisture be at the ideal level.

Excess moisture would eventually evaporate, breaking the pellets apart.

So to analyze the moisture content, the lab technicians weigh a sample, heat it to a high temperature to evaporate the moisture...

Then re-weigh.

The analyzer is programmed to translate the weight loss into a reading of moisture content.

The pellet press is a large drum with perforated rollers inside.

The holes are pellet-width--  2/10 of an inch in diameter.

As the drum rotates, the rollers apply pressure.

This compresses the fiber by 400% and extrudes it outward through the holes.

A knife slices the extruding fiber at programmed intervals, cutting it into lengths of about 1 2/10 inches.

The compression generates heat, which draws out the tree sap still contained in the wood fiber.

This sap, called lignin, acts as an adhesive, locking it in the pellet shape.

The journey from raw material to pellet is now complete.

The pellets, however, are still quite warm and sticky, so they clump together.

The solution--  about 15 minutes in a cooler.

As the room-temperature air blows through the pellets, cooling and drying the tacky lignin, the pellets separate from each other.

Some of the processed raw material ends up in too fine a state to become pellets.

So as the pellets exit the cooler, a vibrating screen filters out this sawdust-like material, which incidentally doesn't go to waste.

The factory uses it to fuel the dryer.

The pellets, meanwhile, proceed to packaging.

It's a continuous system.

The machine feeds printed, plastic film around a cylindrical tube, forming the shape of the bag.

Then it drops in 40 pounds of pellets and seals the top of the bag, simultaneously forming the bottom of the next one.

Wood-pellet stoves are fast becoming a popular means of home heating, and because pellets cost significantly less than most other types of fuel, wood-pellet systems are an emerging option for commercial and industrial heating.

A ring celebrating a special achievement makes a cherished, lifelong keepsake, whether it's a class ring to commemorate graduation from high school or a championship ring for the players on a winning sports team.

As the years go by, this special piece of jewelry keeps the memories close at hand.

Championship rings are entirely custom-made.

They typically feature the team name and logo, along with the year of the big win.

They can also have personalized touches, such as the player's name or jersey number.

Class rings, on the other hand, come in several ready-made designs presented in a catalog.

Graduates order their favorite style, then personalize their ring by choosing options, such as symbols, gemstones, and engraved lettering.

For each style, a jewelry designer first sketches the ring's base-- the overall shape of the ring minus the decorative elements.

Then an industrial designer transforms the sketch into a three-dimensional computer drawing.

The ring's decorative components go through the same process-- the jewelry designer's color drawing adapted to 3-d software that guides a computer-operated milling machine.

The machine transforms two blocks of aluminum into a two-part mold for each of the flat, detailed components of the ring, meaning all the parts except for the base.

A steady flow of lubricant washes away the shards of metal the machine cuts away.

Bit by bit, the mold assumes very intricate detail of the ring design.

Once it's finished, they coat the cavity with a powder that prevents the wax they're about to inject from sticking.

Then they load the mold into an injection device.

It shoots in hot, liquid wax at high pressure, filling all the minute nooks and crannies of the intricately detailed cavity.

Seconds later, they extract a wax model of, in this case, the elaborate top of a championship ring.

To make a wax model of the ring's base, they use a flexible rubber mold because it would be too difficult to extract the three-dimensional shape from a metal mold.

They inject the wax at low pressure, as a rubber mold can't withstand high-pressure injection, nor is it necessary when the base has no intricate details.

The next step is to assemble the wax models of two of the ring's components, connecting the parts with joining wax applied using a fine-tipped soldering iron.

It's at this stage that they also size the ring for the customer, either cutting out a section of the shank to downsize or adding to the shank to enlarge.

Next, they begin building a wax structure on which to mount the wax models for several rings they'll be casting simultaneously.

They solder a small stem to each model...

Then connect each stem to a large wax rod.

When they're done, they have a treelike structure holding all the wax models.

They solder this structure to a rubber base, then slip a metal flask over it.

Next, they mix up some plaster, blending it for a good half-hour under a vacuum to remove all the air bubbles.

Then they inject the plaster into the flask, engulfing the wax models and supporting structure inside.

Over the next 12 hours, the plaster hardens into a shell around the wax.

Next, 12 hours in a hot oven.

This burns out the wax components, leaving behind a cavity in the shell shaped precisely like them.

Now it's just a matter of melting down the metal for the final casting.

The technique of using a wax model to create a mold is known as the lost wax process.

This company uses the plaster shell as a mold to cast rings in three types of metal-- gold, sterling silver, and stainless steel.

Regardless of the metal, the ring-making process is the same.

In just minutes, the induction furnace has heated the metal-- in this case gold--  to the required molten state.

They carefully pour it into the plaster shell.

Gold flows down channels and into cavities left when the wax burnt out.

Once the gold cools and solidifies, they submerge the shell in cool water.

This instantly dissolves the hot plaster, releasing the cast piece.

Everything that was once modeled in wax is now replicated in gold.

They cut the ring components off the structure, then re-melt the structure to reuse the gold.

There's still a remnant of the structure on each ring component, so they grind it off.

Next, using a grinding tool so small that it fits through the ring, they smooth the inside surface.

Then they stamp in the company name, along with the internationally recognized code identifying the metal, such as 10k for 10-karat gold.

To smooth the ring's outer surface, they use a grinding wheel which has splits in its abrasive disks.

The split produces a see-through view, as the disks spin at high speed.

With the entire surface now smooth, the ring is ready for polishing.

They apply some polishing compound, then, using another split wheel, shine it up.

Next, the top of the ring goes to the stone-setting department, where, using a fine rotary tool, a specialist contours each setting to fit the gemstone's pointed base.

Then he sets each gemstone...

Forcing down the four surrounding prongs onto the edge of the stone.

Next, he sets tiny diamonds.

He presses each one into place, then pushes the surrounding metal inward to hold the stone down.

The top of the ring complete, they now solder it to the base.

Using an airbrush, they apply a fine mist of black paint, then wipe it off.

This leaves behind a black background highlighting the ring's details.

Now they apply some polishing compound to a cloth buffing wheel and polish the ring to a high-gloss shine.

They clean the ring thoroughly in repeated ultrasonic baths.

Ultrasound waves traveling through the water dislodge all traces of polishing compound and other residues.

A few blasts of pressurized steam, and the ring is completely dry.

Certain rings also have enamel decoration.

Enamel is liquid glass.

It goes on like paint, then has to be baked in an oven for 30 minutes.

Finally, a computer-guided engraving machine inscribes any name or personal message customers request be written on or inside their rings.

The tradition of the class ring dates back to the 1800s.

Championship rings, a wearable trophy of sorts, are a more recent custom.

Both make a proud and triumphant fashion statement.


Sleeper Rigs
Pecans
Steel Pulleys
Acetate Eyewear

Truck drivers spend a lot of time on the road, so their sleeper rigs become a home away from home.

Equipped with a refrigerator, tv, and microwave, a sleeper rig is more than a place to bunk down for the night.

It can also be a trucker's living space when it's time to pull over.

Due to the convenience of sleeper rigs, truckers don't need to pull into a hotel once they've put in their hours.

Instead, they simply pull over since they're hauling their own sleeping accommodations.

This factory builds custom rigs based on drivers' preferences.

Production starts by installing the steel frame rails for the vehicle's frame, or chassis.

First, machinists place the rails in an upside down position and wire it for indicator lights and other electrical components.

They run hoses for the air brakes and to deliver fuel to the engine.

They link the two frame rails with cross members...

And bolt an engine support rail to the front of the framework.

A crane moves the chassis down the line, while a second crane carries three wheel axles over to the first crane.

Technicians guide the axles into position as they're lowered onto the frame.

The team bolts the axles to the chassis.

A rollover crane flips the chassis and places it on a pedestal that will move it down the line.

Next, the fifth wheel hitch is installed.

That's used to connect the truck to the trailer.

The team secures the hitch with clamping bolts to ensure it's securely in place.

The engine and transmission are now connected to the chassis.

The team installs the diesel fuel tank.

Metal straps are wrapped around the tank, and brackets are fastened to the center of the chassis.

Machinists mount the tires and wheels onto the axles in pairs.

This dual wheel system has a greater load-carrying capacity than a single wheel.

Using a multi-spindled torque tool, a technician tightens all the lug nuts and writes identifying information on the wheel.

Now it's over to the industrial robots.

These machines assemble the cab and the sleeper and rivet the walls of the structures to frames.

With speed and precision, the industrial robots install the roof and pipe sealant on top of the cab frame.

A crane lowers the roof onto the cab and bolts the structure together.

Meanwhile, other industrial robots paint the cab, sleeper, and hood.

The color is usually a custom choice, as are the size and amenities of the sleeper.

A team slides the dashboard subassembly into the cab.

They bolt the dashboard to the cab and connect the components to the rest of the truck.

This is an inside look at the sleeper cab, which has been wired for lights and heat.

Technicians install the cabinetry.

Other features inside the sleeper cab include cabinets equipped with a radio, charger outlets, cup holders, fold-up bunk beds, and mini fridge.

Once all interior components are installed, the team connects the sleeper to the cab.

Then they bolt the two pieces together.

The cab and sleeper assembly is now ready to be mounted to the chassis.

A crane lowers it into place.

The team secures the hood to the front rail.

The hood contains a mechanism that will allow it to open and close with ease and lock in an open position.

Next, the assembled truck heads to the wheel alignment station.

There, an inspector monitors alignment readouts from lasers and 3-d cameras.

This information lets them know the wheel's positioning on the axle.

Based on the data, he loosens the bolts that hold the axles to the wheels and turns the axle to make any additional adjustments.

Once all the technical modifications have been made, technicians lock a kingpin into the fifth wheel hitch and turn the wheels to confirm that everything is secure.

This truck is now ready to hit the road and get to work.

Pecans grow on trees that are native to south central north america.

In fact, "pecan" is an algonquin word that means "a nut that takes a stone to crack".

Today, computerized shelling machines do that job for you.

Pecans add flavor and crunch to any recipe.

They can also be a satisfying treat on their own.

But manufacturing pecans is an entirely different nut to crack.

At harvest time, the husks that contain the nuts start to open.

At this orchard, a machine grabs the tree trunks and shakes the nuts to the ground.

Once on the ground, a sweeper moves the pecans away from the trees and into a row.

It also blows away some of the lighter debris.

A harvester with paddle wheels collects the pecans.

Once on the harvester, the pecans ride chain conveyors as vacuums remove and discard debris then the pecans are transferred to a cleaning plant.

The pecans are unloaded into a pit, and a conveyor takes them inside.

The pecans funnel into a slotted drum and tumble around.

The drum sorts the dehusked pecans from those that have retained their husks.

In this enclosed machine, spinning wire brushes remove more of the husks.

Blowers release the lighter husks into a big bin to be disposed of later.

After more processing, pictures of the nuts are taken with cameras.

A computer monitors the pictures for any husks still attached to the pecans.

If any are identified, the computer activates a blower to remove them.

With the husks removed, harvesters sort out any of the pecans that are cracked or split open.

At this point, the pecans contains about 12% moisture, which is high enough to cause deterioration.

So harvesters leave the pecans to dry for 24 hours, to lower their moisture content to 4%.

Once drying is complete, the pecans are transferred to the shelling plant, where they are plunged into a chlorine-and-water bath.

This both cleans them and rehydrates them.

Without sufficient moisture, the pecans will break into bits during cracking, and the objective is to extract intact halves for retail.

The pecans are rinsed in water at a temperature of 180 degrees fahrenheit.

This step removes chlorine residue, sanitizes the pecans, and raises the moisture content to 7.5%.

Now it's time to get cracking with the completely automated process.

Inside the sheller, pistons hit each end of a nut simultaneously, cracking it cleanly.

The deshelled pecans travel across a vibrating sifter that sorts them by size.

Then the pecans fall in front of an electronic system, which releases a blast of air that removes any lingering shell pieces.

A second sifting system removes any additional small pecan bits.

These pecans will be processed into candy bars and commercial pastries.

The electronic sorter has removed most of the shells, but not all of them.

Technicians visually scan the pecans and pick out the remaining shells.

The pecans continue along the conveyor and fall into cardboard boxes at the end of the line.

To prepare a toasted pecan snack food, salt and butter are added to the nuts.

Then the nuts are cooked and mixed in a roaster.

In packaging, technicians pour the pecans into measuring jugs, then empty them into plastic bags.

Hot jaws seal the tops of the bags to keep the pecans fresh and extend their shelf life.

Ready for retail, consumers won't have any trouble cracking these pecans.

They can go straight to snacking.

A belt and pulley system is a simple type of machine.

Two or more pulleys rotate, moving a belt wrapped around them, transferring mechanical power.

Torque, speed, direction, and other factors can be altered by using pulleys of varying diameters and designs.

Split pulleys drive a belt, while idler pulleys apply tension or change its direction.

Both are manufactured from steel coil, the industrial term for steel that's delivered to the factory in a roll.

The width and thickness of the steel varies, depending on the size of the pulley being made and the load it will carry.

To make split pulleys, the coil enters a stamping press, which punches out discs.

Each disc, called a blank, will become one pulley.

The scrap pieces go back to the steel mill to be recycled.

Each blank has a hole in the center.

This particular blank has three drain holes.

A magnetic arm picks up one blank at a time and loads it into an automated splitting machine.

As the blank rotates, a circular knife cuts the border around the blank to a specific depth, splitting the edge of the blank.

On the opposite side, another tool spreads the split edge, forming a groove.

The machine doesn't remove any steel.

Rather, it forms the groove to a specific shape by redistributing the existing metal.

A welder places the split pulley into a welding machine, then inserts a machined steel hub in the center hole.

The machine welds the hub to the pulley in about 20 seconds.

An idler pulley is made from two halves rather than from a single blank like the split pulley.

To make each half, the steel coil goes through a press in which a dye with multiple stations stamps the metal to the required shape, then cuts it from the coil.

Separate conveyors feed the two stamped halves to an assembly carousel.

One half runs through a small press which stamps dimples on the surface, then loads it onto the carousel's first station.

The carousel then rotates to the next station, which inserts a radial ball bearing in the center hole.

The next station places a stamp without dimples.

A press squeezes the parts together until the dimples touch the non-dimpled half.

A magnetic arm transfers the pulley to a track, leading to a projection welder.

The welder applies an electric current to the dimples, melting the two halves together at the contact points.

A robotic arm positions the pulley on the next station, which presses a bore adapter into the center of the bearing.

This adapter enables the pulley to be installed with a smaller bolt.

The thickness of the bore adapter also acts as a spacer to align the center of the pulley with the belt path.

Next, the samples are tested for weld strength.

A hydraulic jaw clamps one half of the pulley while another jaw pulls the other half apart.

The welds must remain intact to pass the test.

Split pulleys undergo a weld strength test on the hub.

A hot chemical bath removes traces of lubricating oil left by the machining equipment.

A thorough rinse with an anticorrosion chemical prevents the steel from rusting and preps the surface for painting.

Once the pulleys are dry, a technician loads them onto the paint line, masking the center with a plug.

Inside the automated paint tunnel, three spray guns fully coat the top, middle, and bottom of the spinning pulley with a water-based enamel paint.

Then the pulley passes through a tunnel oven, which heat cures the paint in about four minutes.

The pulley, upon exiting the oven, goes directly into the shipping box, and an unpainted pulley takes its place on the line.

The factory sends select pulleys to an outside facility to be plated with zinc rather than painted.

Zinc plating better protects the steel when exposed to corrosive environments.

Looking for a new pair of glasses?

If so, you might want to look into durable, lightweight, and flexible acetate frames.

Acetate is a high-quality plastic made from cotton or wood fibers.

It can be produced in an endless array of colors, color combinations, and finishes.

This eyewear is made of cellulose acetate, a transparent plastic made from cotton fibers combined with plasticizers and binders.

The acetate arrives as a thick sheet.

A computer-guided mill cuts a slab for the front of the frame and two pieces for the temples.

The cuts are carefully calculated to ensure any color variations will be in the same location on every frame.

This machine heats the frame front slab and applies a mold to form the bridge bump, the part of the frame that bulges out over the nose.

The machine drops the slab into cold water.

Once the slab has cooled, this computer-guided machine shapes it into a frame front.

Using 16 different tools operating from five different angles, the machine carves out the eyeholes and makes grooves in them to hold the lenses, then carves the outer shape.

An artisan refines the shape and smoothes the surface by hand, using files and custom-made tools.

Then the acetate parts are placed in a tumbler with hardwood pegs and polishing compounds.

The acetate is smoothed and polished by gentle abrasion.

A tiny pocket is carved on each side of the frame front for the hinge.

Next, the machine heats the hinge with an electric current and places it in the pocket.

The heat melts the acetate, securely setting the hinge.

The brand logo features a pyramid comprised of 21 dots.

This computer-guided precision drill bores 21 tiny holes into the tip of the temple.

A craftsman fills them with translucent epoxy.

Once the epoxy dries, the craftsman removes the excess epoxy with a fine sanding disc.

This requires applying just the correct amount of pressure.

Otherwise, the acetate can get damaged.

Custom-designed equipment tapers each temple to an ergonomic shape.

The temple is thicker at the hinge for strength, thinner around the back of the ear for comfort, and thickest at the end, creating weight at the back to offset pressure on the bridge of the nose.

Next, a craftsman heats the temple to soften the acetate.

The temple is loaded into a wire-shooting machine, along with a hinged nickel silver wire.

The machine shoots the wire through the core of the temple.

The temple is now adjustable and attachable to the frame front hinge.

A craftsman carefully removes excess acetate with a razor blade.

Then he smoothes out the acetate around the hinge with a heat press.

Finally, he covers the hinge with a glue cap.

This will shield it from damage throughout the remainder of the production process.

A laser engraves the logo, model name, color, and size information on the inside of the temple.

Now the glasses are ready to be assembled.

A craftsman cuts matching angles on the temples and frame front.

He joins the temple and frame front hinges with a nylon-coated screw.

The coating tightens the parts together and helps the temples fold and unfold smoothly.

A craftsman hand files the angles so there's no gap between temples and frame front.

Each frame is hand-polished with progressively finer buffing wheels and different polishing compounds.

Optical frames are shipped out with temporary plastic lenses, which an optician replaces with the customer's prescription lenses.

This mechanical machine cuts the plastic to the shape of the frame's eyeholes, following a model lens.

The temporary lenses have a bevel on their edge, which fits into the lens groove of the frame.

From start to finish, it takes two weeks to create a single pair of frames.

The process takes over 70 different production steps, more than half of which are performed manually.


Fiberglass Boats
Clothes Dryers
Bubble Gum
Fireworks

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

Fiberglass boats...

Clothes driers...

Bubble gum...

And fireworks.

They're sleek, they're fast, and they're fun.

Fiberglass boats can jump waves and turn on a dime.

The fiberglass body is low-maintenance and durable, so these watercraft don't deteriorate the way wooden boats can.

A computerized saw cuts out the wood pieces they'll use to build the mold for the fiberglass boat.

It takes a team of artisans about 15 months to design and build the mold.

They first construct the frame.

Then they construct the shape out of fiberglass.

The mold must be perfect in order to cast a boat that's free of faults and defects, so they painstakingly work on the mold's finish in particular, coating it in a special high-resistance paint that will withstand about eight years of castings.

Once they finish the mold, they can begin casting the fiberglass boat.

The equipment feeds just the right ratio of fiberglass to plastic resin.

Fiberglass is glass in the form of very fine, flexible fibers.

They may look fragile, but those fibers are stronger than steel, and they won't burn, stretch, or rot, so they make perfect boat-building material.

Workers make sure they roll the fiberglass into every nook and cranny.

This is critical because if they don't apply the fiberglass thoroughly, the boat will have structural defects.

As heat within the fiberglass builds up, it hardens.

Next, they roll on a material called roving.

It reinforces the fiberglass and makes it more rigid.

They also install wood in the areas where they'll later mount equipment.

They coat the wood with fiberglass to protect it from moisture.

After about an hour, it's time to extract the casting from the mold.

They use a lever system to lift out the hull.

They cut out holes for the mechanics.

Then they install the boat's deck.

They install the motor and the electrical wiring for the mechanics and plumbing.

The boat truly takes shape in the final assembly.

They put together the upper part of the boat, called the shell, and the inside, called the liner.

They install the furniture...

Certain components are installed by hand, such as the dashboard.

Last stop, quality control-- a series of tests to ensure that all the mechanics function well and that the boat is absolutely watertight.

Finally, a wrapping is added to protect the boat during shipping.

Electric cars are cheaper to run than gasoline-powered cars.

Just plug them in to recharge.

No fill-up required.

But they cost 40% more to buy, which offsets the savings.

Battery technology will have to improve and come down in price before electric cars can truly take off.

Clothes dryers were invented in europe in the early 1800s.

The lady of the house would put the clothes in a metal barrel with holes in it, then turn it by hand over the fire.

The first electric dryers were invented around 1915.

Most of the parts are made from steel just 3/100 of an inch thick.

The factory receives it from the supplier in giant rolls.

They go onto a machine that cuts sheets about 3 feet long.

Using those sheets, industrial presses stamp out various dryer parts.

These are motor supports.

And this is the back panel of the drum, the rotating compartment that holds the clothes.

Note those small holes.

We'll come back to them shortly.

To form the side of the drum, the machine bends a sheet of prepainted steel into a circular shape.

When a clothes dryer operates, it sucks in outside air through a hole at the front.

The air passes through the heating element and goes into the drum, entering through those little holes you saw a few moments ago located in the back panel.

Once the automated machines have finished shaping the drum, they form a groove on its outside surface.

This groove is for the motorized belt that drives the drum.

Next, they put the drum on another machine that screws three baffles in place.

Baffles are those thick plastic wings located inside the drum.

They're what throw the clothes around as it rotates.

Back on the automated line, the drum's front rim goes on.

They manually assemble the drum's back panel.

Then a machine installs it.

Next comes the exhaust duct.

Hot, moist air exits the drum through a series of holes and a large slot in the dryer door.

The air gets channeled downward through the lint screen, then goes through a duct at the front of the dryer to the fan.

The fan blows the air out this exhaust duct at the back of the dryer.

The dryer's heating element works much like the element in a toaster, except it consumes a lot more power-- up to 6,000 watts.

The factory receives the steel and ceramic heating coils ready-made.

Workers simply position them on a sheet of galvanized steel.

They also install a temperature sensor that shuts off power should something go wrong and cause the dryer to overheat.

In the finishing department, they coat the dryer with powdered paint that's heat- and shock-resistant.

Then they assemble the bottom and back of the appliance.

They install the motor that drives both the belt and the fan.

Then the exhaust duct goes in.

Automated machines prepare the electrical wiring.

They paint and cut the wires...

Then install a terminal on each end.

Workers wire the dryers...

Then install the drum.

They close up the sides...

Screw on the door, then wire up the control panel.

It's connected to a series of gears and switches that control the dryer cycles.

The model and serial-number sticker marks the last stop on the assembly line.

Chewing gum dates back to the ancient greeks, who chewed resin from trees.

Modern chewing gum was patented in the u.s. in 1869 by-- believe it or not--  a dentist.

In 1928, another american invented bubble gum.

Bubble gum comes in gumballs of all colors and sizes, but for blowing bubbles, nothing beats the chewy, gooey pink stuff in the twist wrap.

It all starts with a gum base, the stuff that makes gum chewy.

Traditionally, the base came from tree resin.

Today it's synthetic--  made of plastics and rubbers.

They pour the gum base into a mixer, then add color and flavoring.

As it begins mixing, they pour in glucose syrup, a sweetener.

Because it's liquid, it helps keep the gum base soft.

Next, they add dextrose, a powdered sweetener.

They blend the ingredients for about 20 minutes.

The stirring action builds up heat, which melts everything together.

The mixture is ready when it reaches the consistency of bread dough.

They transfer it by cart to a machine called the pre-extruder.

The machine squeezes the mixture through a narrow opening, like squeezing toothpaste from the tube.

This transforms the big, bulky wad into thin, manageable strips that can then go through the extruders.

The extruders squeeze each strip down to the actual width of a piece of bubble gum.

It comes out as one long, continuous stream, to be cut into bite-size pieces later on.

This extrusion process heats up the gum.

If they were to cut and wrap it now, it would stick to the wrapper, so the next stop is a cooling chamber.

The gum goes in for 15 minutes at temperatures between 37 and 45 degrees fahrenheit.

When the bubble gum comes out, it's cooled down enough for what they call the "cut and wrap".

One machine does both jobs in a fraction of a second.

Watch the action in slow motion.

As the continuous stream of gum enters on one end, the machine cuts it into bite-size pieces, pushes each piece into a wax-paper wrapper, then twists both ends of the wrapper closed.

Here's the slow-motion replay from a different angle.

The machine processes 900 pieces of bubble gum per minute.

Last stop-- packaging.

The bubble gum moves onto a scale that automatically weighs out the right amount per tub.

They seal the tub with plastic to make it airtight.

This keeps the bubble gum fresh.

Ever wonder why bubble gum is pink?

It's because that's the only color walter diemer had on hand when he invented this treat back in 1928.

Since then, the color just stuck.

What's a 4th of july celebration without fireworks-- brilliant colors exploding in the air, the oohs and ahhs they elicit on the ground?

Fireworks are so high-tech these days, it's easy to forget they're not a modern invention.

Historians believe gunpowder, the explosive ingredient in fireworks, was invented in china around 1000 a.d. it's said that in a famous battle, the chinese emperor illuminated the sky with it, scaring away the enemy.

During the renaissance, the europeans invented the type of fireworks we know today.

Modern pyrotechnicians use computers to ignite fireworks from a safe distance and to synchronize their bursts with music.

Assembling explosives into fireworks is the job of the pyrotechnician.

Even the tiniest spark of static electricity could set them off, so antistatic gloves are a must.

A firework is made up of separate compartments within a shell.

The burning fuse explodes one compartment at a time, creating those staggered bursts in the sky.

The pyrotechnician first glues the main fuse into the bottom of the shell.

The glue is naturally colorless.

It's dyed blue so he can tell exactly where he's applying it.

He puts the bottom aside to work on the second compartment of this 2-compartment firework.

He starts by spooning a powdered explosive into the center.

Then he caps it.

Here he's working on two fireworks at a time.

Next step-- a brown cardboard shock absorber to shield this compartment from the first compartment explosion.

Then a corrugated cardboard disk and a plastic spacer.

It'll take the fuse 1 1/2 seconds to burn through these two components, creating a slight delay between the first explosion and the second.

Gluing the second compartment together is tricky.

If it's too tight, it'll stifle the explosion, but it has to be tight enough to withstand the delay.

With the second compartment done, it's time to prepare the first.

He glues a sleeve onto a case, then fills it with hundreds of stars.

Stars are what create the flashes of color.

They're carefully measured explosives mixed with coloring agents such as magnesium for white, copper salts for blue, and charcoal for orange.

The pyrotechnician must handle them gingerly, or they could detonate.

Next, he adds comets, another type of exploding decoration.

He tops it off with gunpowder.

Finally, he glues the two compartments together, filling the remaining space with the same combination of ingredients.

Once the shell is full, he glues on the cover, and the tighter, the better.

The more pressure that builds up, the bigger and more spectacular the explosion.

Next, he wraps the fireworks in craft paper.

The label uses international color codes to indicate the size of the shell.

The lift charge-- a gunpowder bag with a long, fast-action fuse-- goes at the base of the shell.

That's what'll send the firework into the sky.

When they light the main fuse at the top, it simultaneously lights two secondary fuses-- the time-delay fuse inside the shell, running through the compartments of explosives and that long fuse running along the outside down to the lift charge at the base.

Once the lift charge ignites, heat and gas build up inside the launch tube until they explode, propelling the firework close to 1,000 feet skyward.

Let the light show begin.


Coconut Shell Charcoal
Dial Indicators
Wet Downdraft Tables
Bassoon Reeds

Coconut shells used to be considered agricultural waste, but today they're processed into biofuel for the barbecue.

In countries like thailand, companies convert the shells into briquettes that burn cleanly for an extended period.

Throwing away these shells would be a real waste of energy.

Instead of ending up as landfill, coconut shells are being used to fire the grill.

Processed into briquettes that burn virtually smoke-free, the shells are now considered a resource instead of garbage.

Converting coconut shells to charcoal starts with the partial-combustion process.

Inside these brick igloo-style kilns, they create a burning environment that allows the shells to be carbonized but doesn't reduce them to ash.

The kilns are partially underground.

The surrounding soil helps to seal the fire.

This keeps the air levels down for a slow, smoldering burn.

A worker bricks up the kiln door.

And he seals these bricks with mud instead of cement.

This will allow the door to be dismantled later without ruining the bricks, preserving them for reuse in the next burn.

From the top, he ignites the fire using soft wax as starter material.

Because of the limited air in the kilns, the fire burns out after 20 to 24 hours.

A worker takes the door apart and rakes the charred remains of the coconut shells into a basket.

They have been converted into a rich charcoal.

He heaps the blackened shells into a pile.

And under the intense sun, moisture from water, used to extinguish any hot spots, evaporates.

The charcoal dries out and breaks easily.

It's now ready to be processed into briquettes.

Workers load the charcoal pieces into grinders.

This is dirty work.

So they protect their faces with scarves and their hands with gloves.

Inside the grinding machines, rollers pulverize the charcoal, reducing it to a fine powder.

The powder flows into bins below.

A worker then transfers the charcoal powder to a mixer.

He adds a generous amount of starch made from the root of the cassava tree.

Together with water, the starch will bond the charcoal particles together like glue.

The mixer whisks it all together like pastry.

The consistency is right when the particles form clumps when pressed together.

The moistened blend exits the mixer and spills into a bin.

This coconut shell charcoal is now ready to be pressed into briquettes.

The next worker loads the charcoal into a press.

It forces the tacky black powder through a die to press it into a perpetual hexagon with a hole in the center.

As the machine extrudes the charcoal, a worker chops it into briquettes that are just over 3 inches in length.

These coconut charcoal briquettes have now taken shape.

But they're not yet ready for the grill.

They're soft and mushy to the touch and crumble easily.

To firm them up, they place them in structures with open fires in the center.

They close the doors and leave the briquettes to bake over a period of about 24 hours.

The heat fuses the charcoal particles together.

And the briquettes harden.

Out of the curing chamber, this briquette is solid to the touch and clean too.

It leaves no sooty residue.

From coconut shells to barbecue briquettes, it's been quite a transformation.

This coconut shell charcoal is now ready to sizzle.

In many disciplines, you have to take measurements.

Sometimes, those measurements are so minute they're difficult or impossible for the human eye to determine.

So a ruler or tape measure can't help.

What you need instead is a precision-measuring tool called a dial indicator.

On this dial indicator, each graduation is 0.001 inches.

A full revolution of the hand measures 100 thousandths of an inch.

To make a key component, called the bridge plate, this automated punch press stamps out brass circles, which are about 2 inches in diameter.

Workers place each bridge plate into a manual punch press, which makes location holes that will correctly position the bridge plate on the next press.

This press makes holes for mounting screws, locating pins, as well as for three precision jewels, which reduce friction on moving metal components.

This lathe begins the process of shaping a stainless steel rod into the dial indicator's main measuring component, called the rack.

Under a shower of cutting oil, the machine drills and threads a hole on each end for attaching a contact made of plated steel.

Next, this milling machine cuts teeth spaced 25 thousandths of an inch apart.

One of the dial indicator's gears runs along these rack teeth to turn the hand that displays the measurement.

This computer-guided machine forms an aluminum bar into another key component, called the bridge.

The bridge has holes for screws and locating pins that align with those in the bridge plate so that the two can fasten, sandwiching the gears in between.

The bridge also has holes for three jewels, which workers insert with a punch press.

Jewels are doughnut-shaped synthetic rubies set in a brass ring.

They line the holes for the gears and other moving components.

The jewel's surface is very smooth.

So it eases friction on the component.

Workers check every jewel under a microscope to make sure it didn't crack when pressed into the hole.

The dial indicator's outside case is made of aluminum, shaped by this computer-guided turning and milling machine.

Workers spray the case with powdered paint using an electric charge to draw the particles onto the surface in a thorough, even coat.

Then, they bake the case in an oven for 20 minutes to make the paint finish ultra durable.

They put the case on a machine that presses in top and bottom steel stems, which will hold the rack in place.

They mount a hair spring on the bridge plate.

This spring allows the gear to return to its original position after moving the rack upward to take a measurement.

They insert what's called a pinion for the large dial hand in the center jeweled hole and a second gear into the jeweled hole for the small dial hand.

Then, they attach the bridge.

Next, they insert the rack into the case through the stem and screw a contact into each end.

Then, they install a brass spring-loaded rack guide.

It prevents the rack from rotating so that its teeth always face the rack gear.

They mate the case with the rest.

Then they push in the stem while holding the hand pinion to wind the gear.

They install the printed aluminum dial on the bridge plate side and mount the hand for the small dial on a pinion protruding from the top of the gear.

They mount the large dial hand onto its pinion.

They place the movable dial into a grooved ring, called a bezel, and snap the bezel onto the case.

When you turn the bezel, the dial moves with it.

The back of the case is shaped with a lug for mounting the tool to a fixture.

The movable dial lets you zero the indicator.

You lock in the dial position with this twist bolt.

The factory tests every dial indicator with this micrometer head.

It pushes in the rack to a specific measurement.

Every time the large hand rotates a full revolution, indicating 100 thousandths of an inch, the small dial hand clocks one graduation.

This test guarantees no tool leaves the factory without delivering made-to-measure accuracy.

Cutting or sanding metals and other materials can produce combustible airborne dust or fumes, which can ignite or be inhaled.

That's why it's safer to do this work on a wet downdraft table.

This machine captures and filters hazardous particles from the work space.

A powerful blower pulls the flammable dust down through the openings of the grid tabletop.

Then a continuous spray of water extinguishes the dust and washes it down into a reservoir at the bottom, where a filter removes it.

Because stainless steel doesn't corrode, this computer-guided laser cuts the components that come into contact with water out of stainless steel sheets.

Workers pass each part through a wide-belt sander to smooth out rough edges left by the cutting.

When the part exits the sander, they thoroughly brush off the metal dust.

Then, they bend the part into the required shape using a computer-guided machine, called a press brake.

A welder then fuses the parts, constructing the machine in sections.

This is the table section that contains the tabletop and the wash-down system that processes the combustible dust.

Workers clean all the welds with a machine that uses a combination of chemicals and electricity.

They brush on a protective coating to make the welds corrosion-resistant.

Then, they wash the unit with soap and water.

In the reservoir at the bottom, they install the water-inlet filter.

When the blower sucks the dust under the tabletop, spray nozzles douse it with water.

The dusty water flows down into the reservoir, where this filter traps the dust before a pump sends the water back up to the spray nozzles.

To ensure that no water leaks out, a worker caulks this entire section of the machine with marine-grade sealant.

On the left side, they mount the housing for the mist-eliminator filter.

It captures water droplets from the airstream before the blower exhausts it.

To that, they attach the blower housing.

It has a side opening for the blower and a top opening for a silencer that muffles the noise of the blower exhaust.

Now, they install the blower.

It consists of an electric motor turning a blower wheel.

The resulting centrifugal force sucks air through the machine and out the exhaust.

They insert the filter into its housing.

The filter is polyester, so it's mold resistant, which is critical given that it gets wet.

Now, they install the water tree, a stainless steel wall with baffles that make the dusty water cascade into the reservoir.

These probes ensure there's always the optimum amount of water circulating through the machine.

They send an alert to the control panel if the water level in the reservoir rises too high or drops too low.

After installing a plumbing connection for the wash-down system, they install walls to contain the dust over the work surface and the silencer over the blower exhaust.

Then, they complete the assembly of the wash-down system by connecting pipes with spray nozzles to the plumbing connection.

Finally, workers install the tabletop, made up of two steel grates.

The blower sucks the dust through the grates' openings.

You can cushion the tabletop with a rubber grid mat.

When you press the start button on the control panel, the blower begins drawing air.

And the nozzles begin spraying water.

This demonstration with the smoke machine shows the powerful downdraft that gives industrial workers a breath of fresh air.

To play most woodwind instruments, the musician blows air through a reed made of cane.

The reed vibrates to create sound, just like the vocal cords in our throat.

A bassoon reed is comprised of two thin blades of cane rather than one, so it's called a double reed.

a bassoon reed has twin blades at the top that vibrate to produce sound and a tube at the bottom that fits onto the bassoon's lead pipe.

The reed maker begins with a stalk of cane that's almost an inch in diameter.

With a single strike of a cylindrical, x-shaped blade, he splits it into four equal strips, then uses a guillotine to cut each strip to a length of 4 3/4 inches.

After soaking a strip in water for about 8 hours to soften the fibers, he laterally slices off about half the cane.

Then, he places it in a precision gouger and thins it to approximately 0.05 inches, give or take a fraction of an inch.

He verifies the thickness with a precision-measuring tool, called a dial indicator.

He clamps the cane in a reed-shaped template and trims away the excess.

This gives the cane a distinct contour.

He removes the outer layer of rigid bark and thins out the middle, which will become the dual blades of the reed.

Next, he cuts a pattern that will enable the reed to vibrate at the frequencies required to produce the bassoon's full range of 44 notes.

Then, he scores both ends of the cane to make them flexible enough to be bent into a half circle.

He folds the cane in half and ties it with a piece of brass wire.

The fold will form the double blades at the top of the reed.

The opposite ends, once bent into mating half circles, will form the tube at the bottom.

Keeping the cane wet, he heats a cylindrical-forming mandrel over the flame of an oil-burning lamp.

Then, he wraps the tube end tightly with twine.

The heat softens the cane's fibers, molding them under pressure from the tightly wound twine to the shape of the mandrel.

This forms the two adjoining half circles into a perfectly round tube.

After a few seconds, he removes the forming mandrel and unwraps the twine.

He inserts a holding mandrel of the same diameter and wraps it with a rubber band.

He puts the reed aside to dry for about a week.

This sets the shape permanently.

When he unwraps and unfolds the reed, he sands the edges of the two adjoining half circles so that they meet perfectly.

Then, he refolds the reed, securing it with three wires spaced at specific intervals.

The distance between the wires, in concert with the curved shape of the cane, finalizes the contour of the reed, which determines how it vibrates.

One the wires are correctly positioned, he wraps the tube end of the reed with strong synthetic string.

This will contain the tube dimensions when the reed is resoaked.

He coats the string with glue to further strengthen the tube.

Once the glue dries, he reams the inside of the tube to fit perfectly into the bassoon's lead pipe.

He places a ruler against the first wire and makes a mark of just over an inch out toward the folded tip.

Then, he clips off the folded tip.

The reed now has double blades that vibrate when a musician blows air through them.

because cane is a plant, not a synthetic material, there are slight natural variations from reed to reed.

So bassoonists make the last minor adjustments themselves with profilers and other tools until their reed vibrates beautifully.