Matches
Carousel Horses
Fine Porcelain
Automobile Fuel Tanks

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

Carousel horses.

Fine porcelain.

And automobile fuel tanks.

Lighting a controlled fire was not always easy.

Only 200 years ago, you'd rub a rock on steel to create sparks.

Then a stunning discovery-- that combining certain chemicals can ignite fire.

It wasn't long before matches were invented, putting these chemicals on handy little sticks.

Well, nothing quite matches that.

The first matches left behind a nauseating odor.

But today, they're safer, and the smell dissipates in seconds.

To make matchsticks, this company starts with recycled paperboard, which is inexpensive and thick enough to support the weight of chemicals on one end.

A stamping press partially cuts the paper, creating stems.

As we see in this view from inside the machine, a die first cuts the stems.

And then a blade slices through the sheet widthwise, making strips of 120 stems each.

At actual speed, it's all just a blur, as the press makes nearly 500 strips per minute.

Next, the strips move through a bath of hot wax.

It soaks into the stems about 1/3 of the way up.

Then they dry in an oven for 15 seconds.

When you light a match, the wax slows down the burn speed of the chemicals, sustaining the flame for four or five seconds.

Those chemicals are gelatin and silicone-- to bind the chemicals to the stick...

Potassium chlorate-- an animal protein glue for oxidation...

Sulfur to fuel the flame, and two fillers.

They mix 700 pounds of the chemicals in a large vat with hot water.

This is enough to make the chemical batter for 25 million match heads.

A conveyor runs the matchsticks through the batter to coat their tips.

Three rollers in the tank raise the surface of the batter.

The first two ensure the front and back of the heads get covered.

The third rotates faster to remove excess batter as the heads leave the tank.

From there, the matchsticks travel about a quarter mile while fans air-dry them.

The factory temperature is a comfortable 72 degrees fahrenheit, just what's required for the chemicals to dry and harden.

These minerals are silica and red phosphorus.

Add a little glue, and you've got what's called friction-- the material in the strip you rub the match against to make the head ignite.

To make these striker strips, as they're called, a steel wheel rolls friction onto paper that's moving through a cutting press.

This isn't the same paper from which they make the matchsticks.

It's a higher-quality non-recycled paper, suitable for color graphics, because many clients order custom-printed matchbook covers.

Another press with rotary blades slices through the paper, creating segments that are 4.2 inches long.

That's the length of an unfolded matchbook.

Now back to the matchsticks.

A worker arranges the strips into layers of two.

The conveyor then feeds them into a machine that will attach them to the matchbook covers.

The machine performs several tasks.

It cuts the matchstick strips into rows of 10 matches each.

And it cuts the matchbook covers to their final width of 1.5 inches.

The machine folds the matchbook covers over two rows, or 20 matches, then inserts one strong staple through all four layers.

Next, a conveyor moves the assembled matchbooks to another machine that counts them and creates two side-by-side rows of 25 ready for boxing.

This company also makes its boxes out of recycled paperboard.

Each one holds 50 matchbooks and sells for about a buck.

That's a dollar for 1,000 matches, or just a penny for 10 matches.

Centuries ago, soldiers tested their cavalry skills astride the rim of a large horizontal wheel.

Eventually, europe's wealthy elite saw this as entertainment and turned the practice into a fabulous pageant.

Nowadays, you can ride a whole menagerie of animals.

But the star of the carousel is still the horse.

Their life revolves around a fairground, but they're born here on paper.

A craftsman draws a pattern of the horse's silhouette, then fills it in with the saddle, straps, and a harness.

Some models may include a shield, a coat of arms, or even flowers.

Another craftsman then glues together blocks of linden-- wood that's lightweight and easy to carve.

He stacks four of them to create what's called an end block.

It'll form part of the horse's body, what's known as the core.

He clamps the blocks together to compress them and lets the glue set for 45 minutes.

The finished core includes two end blocks sandwiched by top, bottom, and side panels, plus one wooden piece they'll carve into a saddle.

The middle of the core is hollow.

On a carousel with 50 horses, this trims the overall weight by up to three tons.

After covering the core with carbon paper, the craftsman lays the pattern on top.

He traces the pattern with a leadless pencil called a stylus.

The carbon paper underneath transfers the drawing onto the wood.

He'll follow these lines to cut out the basic shape of the horse.

Later, they'll carve most of the finer details by hand.

Using a band saw, he slices the core carefully along the lines.

Next, he drills a hole for the pole that attaches the horse to the carousel.

Here, a craftsman uses what's called a carving duplicator to create the head.

Following a template, the machine sculpts a block of wood into the horse's head, a painstaking process that takes 90 minutes.

The duplicator can carve up to four heads at once.

It also adjusts to carve some finer details into the larger pieces, such as the core.

They use something called a parting tool to shape the decorative tassels on the bridle.

This one has a fanciful design, what an arabian horse would typically wear.

The craftsman has a huge arsenal of tools at his disposal to create all kinds of special features, such as a flowing, windblown mane.

The tools are sharp, and they're precise enough to sculpt even tiny, intricate parts such as eye sockets, nostrils, and teeth.

After applying polyester adhesive putty in the eye sockets, he adds two glass eyes.

Unlike real horses' pupils, which are oval in shape, these have round pupils for a friendlier look.

A carousel horse is roughly half the height of a real horse, but the size of its feet is true to life, so workers nail on authentic iron horseshoes.

These prevent the wood from chipping under the feet of riders who get rowdy in the saddle.

Wooden pegs temporarily connect the head and tail to the body.

Once workers verify the alignment, they'll glue the sections together.

After sanding down the entire surface, the paint job begins.

First, three coats of white primer.

This highlights any imperfections the sanding missed.

Once that's done, the artwork begins.

This horse will wear a bright, multicolored harness.

Its coat will be in different shades of the same color for a realistic look.

It takes up to five coats of paint to get it just right.

Up to seven coats of varnish will keep the horse looking beautiful for decades.

After a lengthy production process that takes about two months, these striking creatures are ready for the fairground.

Porcelain is often called china after the country that invented it more than 1,200 years ago.

It looks delicate but is actually the hardest type of ceramic material.

It's even used in electrical insulators because it withstands very high heat.

But most people think of porcelain as decorative.

This company makes 40 different porcelain items.

It all starts with a sketch of the piece-- in this case, a teapot.

After that, a master mold of the piece-- a negative made of plaster.

Craftsmen use it to make a production mold.

Porcelain begins as powder, a blend of three minerals-- quartz, kaolin, and feldspar.

The workshop mixes this powder with water to make a wet paste called slip.

A craftswoman fills the mold with slip.

Within 10 minutes or so, the porous plaster absorbs the water, leaving a crust of hardened slip.

After pouring the rest out, she waits another 30 minutes for the crust to continue hardening.

Then she peels away the mold and gets a first look at her teapot.

Here, she removes excess crust from a different mold for the spout.

She waits about 10 minutes, until the spout is hard enough to handle but still soft enough to sculpt.

With a utility knife, she carves open the end of the spout.

With a little water and a sponge, she smoothes out the edges and curves the rim.

Next, she extracts the handle from a third mold.

Then she pierces 12 holes in the spout side of the teapot to filter out the tea leaves when you pour.

She brushes on some slip to attach the spout and the handle.

This model has a wedge along the collar to help align the handle correctly.

Other designs have small notches instead.

She brushes on more slip to ensure the parts will bond, then sponges the surrounding surface to smooth out the drips.

After the piece dries for two more days, she carves away the lines along the handle and under the spout and sands down the rim.

They make some pieces using a pressure-casting system-- the mold's made of resin and tiny polyester beads that create pores, which absorb the water in the slip.

After a hydraulic press closes the mold, the machine injects slip into the cavity.

12 minutes later, a craftsman uses a suction plate to remove what will become a serving platter.

He places the piece on a plaster block.

The porous plaster lets the underside dry without leaving marks.

They fire the items in a giant kiln.

The kiln heats up gradually, taking eight hours to reach a searing 1,800 degrees fahrenheit, then 12 more hours to cool down.

Firing hardens the porcelain and enables it to better absorb a coat of enamel.

After brushing off any dust, the craftsman dunks each piece in enamel-- a protective coating.

The porcelain absorbs it right away, and this glaze turns into a shiny skin once the pieces are fired again.

She handles each piece in a particular way to avoid leaving drip marks.

In the second firing, they make the porcelain pure white by carefully controlling the air in the kiln.

Reducing the oxygen level removes any undesirable colors.

This time, the temperature is higher-- 2,500 degrees fahrenheit.

It shrinks the pieces by about 15%.

After a quality check, a craftsman applies the company logo with a transfer decal.

The logo melts in when the plate goes back in the kiln for another 12 hours at 1,500 degrees fahrenheit.

In the end, the porcelain is translucent enough for light to shine right through.

Other pieces offer more illustrated displays for an elegant dining experience.

Considering how much it costs to fill them, it's no wonder today's gas tanks are made to be tough.

Factories design a gas tank to safely fit a wide range of vehicles.

Worldwide, the industry makes 60 million tanks a year for new cars and trucks and millions more to replace old or damaged tanks in existing cars.

Making a gas tank begins with a simple sheet of steel.

It's nickel-plated to make the tank rust-resistant.

A worker places the steel in a hydraulic press that applies 800 tons of pressure.

This compresses the sheet between two dies that shape the bottom half of the tank.

The press forces the male die up against the sheet and into the cavity of the female die.

To make the top half of the tank or different-size tanks, they simply change dies.

On the tank's top section, a stamping press imprints information such as the product and lot numbers, and the manufacturer's name.

A hydraulic punch then pierces two holes-- one for a tube to fill the tank and another to vent it.

This machine makes an opening for a component called the fuel-delivery module, or fdm.

It will send fuel to the motor.

A conveyor moves as many as 180 top sections per hour to the next production phase.

There, a worker uses a steel and nylon jig to install a steel ring that will position the fdm.

He spot-welds the ring in six spots, fusing it to the top section.

Two notches on the ring will align the fdm properly.

Workers tack the top and bottom sections together, aligning them properly for comprehensive welding that follows.

Two metal wheels compress the sections together, and water cools the area as a machine called a seam-welder fuses the upper and lower halves of the tank.

Using a gas torch, a worker fuses steel tube to the tank with lead solder.

This is the filler tube into which you insert the gas nozzle when you fill up at the pump.

Fuel flows in and air vents out through the tube simultaneously.

A sensor automatically shuts off the gas pump when the air pressure inside the tube reaches a certain point.

Most tanks fill only to about 80% capacity to leave room for vapors caused by hot weather.

Robots weld the tanks destined for brand-new vehicles, because the work has to be precise and consistent in order to aid the assembly-line robots at the auto plant.

The human-welded models are sold to auto-repair shops as replacements for damaged tanks.

They don't require the same precision because a mechanic does a custom installation.

When the robots finish welding the tanks, they transfer them to a conveyor belt that moves them to the next production phase.

There, a worker attaches a tin-plated venting tube.

Tin makes it rust-resistant.

He adds a steel component called a baffle to the bottom section of the tank.

This reduces the sloshing of fuel inside the tank.

The result-- less noise for the driver and less metal fatigue for the tank.

They're usually just for tanks found in larger vehicles, like suvs and small trucks.

A worker now places the top section onto the bottom section, pulling the hose through the opening in the top.

This hose will connect to the fdm.

After a welding machine fuses both halves together, another machine bends the sides downward.

This gives designers extra space to work with.

They test every tank for leaks by dunking it underwater.

After blocking all the holes in the tank, they pump a little extra air inside it.

They shine bright spotlights and look for bubbles in the water.

If air can escape, so can gasoline.

No bubbles, and the gas tank passes inspection.

Only then is it ready for shipping and a starring role in your car.


Cast Iron Stoves
Ultralight Aircraft
Snow Groomers
Rubber Bands

Cast-iron stoves have been adding warmth to people's lives for more than three centuries.

Today there are new reasons to cozy up to this invention.

It's had a major update.

Modern stoves burn wood more cleanly and efficiently, providing heat without the dirty fallout from the chimney.

Modern cast-iron stoves hardly resemble their smoke-belching, soot-spewing predecessors.

The design creates a hotter fire, so it requires less fuel and releases little smoke.

It all starts with a pile of iron scrap, things like old stoves, sinks, brake drums, and rotors.

A magnetized crane transfers the scrap to a propane-fired preheater.

12 minutes spent in the preheater removes moisture from the iron scrap.

The scrap iron spills into a hopper that funnels it into an electric furnace.

The temperature in the furnace is a blistering 2,700 degrees fahrenheit, and the iron melts into a fiery liquid.

The furnace tilts to pour the molten iron into a ladle for transfer.

Next, they make the molds of the stove parts, using a mix of sand, clay, water, and coal.

They blow the ingredients between the aluminum patterns.

A hydraulic system squeezes the patterns together.

The sand mix compacts and takes the shape of the patterns.

They now have sand molds.

The molten iron arrives and flows into a channel leading to the molds.

As the liquid metal cools, it solidifies into the shape of the mold.

A vibrating conveyor shakes and breaks the sand molds to reveal the cast-iron stove parts.

A worker knocks off unwanted bits, and then it's into a blast cleaner.

Inside the blast cleaner, steel grit bombards the stove parts to remove remnants of the sand molds and expose the metal.

Essentially it blasts the dirt off, and they come out clean.

An employee grinds the edges of the metal stove parts.

He blends in the line created where the two parts of the mold came together during casting.

It takes 40 parts to make one woodburning stove, and each one is cast in a sand mold made from a pattern.

Next, a worker drills threads for the bolts that will hold all the parts of the stove together.

Once the surface of the parts has been prepped, they spray an enamel coating onto them and bake it on.

A laser then cuts out a steel heat shield for the back of the wood stove.

The intricate cuts are computer driven.

An employee bends the heat shield to fit the stove.

Next, a worker packs a kind of mortar into a silicone mold of the firebox.

The table its on vibrates to settle the material and eliminate air pockets so the firebox will be able to withstand high temperatures.

The shape of the firebox is crucial to the stove's energy efficiency, and so are the holes that have been molded into it.

These strategically located holes will introduce fresh air to burn gases that would otherwise go up in smoke, preventing energy loss and pollution at the same time.

The parts have all been fabricated, and they're ready to put the pieces together.

They assemble the stove from the bottom up.

They bolt the parts and seal the joints to make them airtight.

The assembly takes about an hour.

This cast-iron stove is now ready to keep these fires burning for many years to come.

An ultralight aircraft is a lightweight, motorized flying machine that looks like a hang glider.

Hang gliding inspired the invention of ultralights back in the late 1970s.

The idea was to create a slow but affordable method of motorized flight subject to minimal aerospace regulations.

They're called ultralights or microlights.

This made-in-france 2-seater model weighs about 485 pounds.

To be classified as an ultralight by the international air sports federation, takeoff weight can't exceed 990 pounds and minimum speed can't surpass 40 miles per hour.

The wing surface, called the sail, is made of a sturdy polyester-based material treated with a special coating that protects it from the sun's ultraviolet rays.

They unroll different colors of this fabric onto a cutting table marked with patterns for the four separate sail sections.

They staple the fabrics to the table to hold them steady while tracing the patterns.

Once they finish tracing, they cut out the pieces, then connect them with double-sided adhesive tape to position them correctly for sewing.

They reinforce select areas with adhesive-backed polyester mesh fabric.

Then a sewer stitches the pieces together with high-strength, u.v.-resistant thread.

In this first stage of the sewing process, they stitch together 1/4 of the sail at a time.

In the second stage of sewing, they sew together the top and undersurfaces of each side.

Then, in the final stage, they stitch the right and left together.

In another part of the factory, the body of the aircraft begins taking shape.

It's called the trike because it sits on three wheels, like a tricycle.

They build it in sections, welding together several stainless-steel tubes.

After the sections receive a baked-on coat of paint, workers assemble them to each other around the fuel tank.

The 17-gallon tank is made of lightweight polypropylene, a type of plastic that's u.v. resistant and impact resistant.

Once the trike is fully assembled, they mount the three small wheels, similar to those on motorized scooters.

Next, they bolt a 100-horsepower gasoline engine, similar to a full-sized motorcycle engine, to the back of the trike.

On the front of the trike, they install pedals for propelling the craft on the ground...

And a motorcycle-style plastic console with windshield.

The console houses the instrumentation panel.

They mount the radiator in the center of the trike, cover it with foam and fabric, then install a pair of upholstered seats for pilot and passenger.

Then they protect the engine with a plastic housing.

They mount an aluminum- and-carbon-fiber propeller on the shaft of the gearbox connected to the engine.

Now for the wing.

Its main structure is made up of hinged aluminum tubes which fold for transport.

Aluminum is lightweight and rustproof, which is essential for flight.

They slip the sail over the tubing, then unfold the wing.

Thin aluminum tubes provide crosswise structural support.

A system of cables keeps the wing in the open position.

Another system of cables, called the corset, manipulates the billowing of the sail.

This enables the pilot to alter the aerodynamics to increase or reduce speed.

Under the wing, they install the a-frame, the ultralight's steering mechanism.

The pilot manipulates the a-frame with a horizontal bar, changing the trike's body position under the wing.

The last step is to bolt the front of the trike to the wing and hook up the safety backup cables.

The pilot steers the ultralight by weight-shifting with the a-frame bar, tilting the trike toward the front to descend, to the right to veer right, and so on.

Typical cruising speed is around 75 miles per hour.

With an open cockpit, air temperature and oxygen levels limit how high an ultralight aircraft can fly.

Maximum altitude is about 3,300 feet, high enough for a thrill ride yet still low enough for a spectacular view.

After a busy day of skiing and snowboarding, ski slopes get worn down and develop ruts, bumps, ice, and bare spots.

Ski resorts typically refresh the slopes overnight by grooming the snow with specialized track machines.

By morning, the runs are as good as new.

A snow groomer is like a bulldozer on tracks, except instead of pushing dirt, it pushes snow.

It uses grooming implements mounted to the front and back.

To build a snow groomer, workers begin by aligning front and rear frames with the vehicle's main frame with the help of positioning jigs.

Then a welder gets to work.

First, he tacks everything together.

Then, with a mechanical lift, he raises and tilts the tacked frame to gain access from various angles.

After welding on additional parts, including 10 axles, they prime and paint the frame.

Then a mechanic installs a heavy-duty suspension system designed to automatically adapt to the type and shape of terrain, maximizing traction.

Next, he greases the 10 axles and installs a wheel hub and bearings on each one.

He then mounts the wheel, tightening the bolts to a specified torque to ensure optimal performance and durability.

Meanwhile, another mechanic installs the hydraulic hoses.

These control the grooming implements and the sprocket on which each track turns.

Then he connects the hoses to the main hydraulic valve.

At another workstation, a mechanic assembles the diesel engine, the transmission, and four hydraulic pumps.

Two of these pumps drive oil to the hydraulic motors, which propel the vehicle forward and backward.

The two others pump hydraulic fluid to operate the implements and the cooling system.

They lower this assembled unit into the frame and make the required electrical and hydraulic connections.

Meanwhile, another team prepares the next unit, starting with the cooling system, two powerful fans which cool the engine and hydraulic fluid.

Next, they install the exhaust system and two batteries to power the engine.

They mount this assembled unit above the transmission and make all the necessary connections.

They lower the cab onto the frame, connect more electrical and hydraulic lines, and fill all systems with their respective fluids.

The vehicle now undergoes extensive testing in a dynamometer, which operates the engine and hydraulic components at maximum capacity.

If all systems perform according to engineering specifications, the vehicle gets the go-ahead to receive the snow-grooming implements.

The rear implement is a tiller, which breaks up the snow into small particles and shapes narrowly spaced parallel lines on the trail surface.

A powerful, built-in hydraulic motor spins the steel-toothed rotors at speeds of up to 1,350 revolutions per minute.

This ensures even grooming throughout.

The groomer's tracks are made of ultra-durable steel.

A mechanic guides the edge of each track onto a high-strength urethane sprocket bolted to the rear of the frame while another mechanic slowly drives the vehicle forward to pull the track over the wheels.

Then they clamp the two ends together and join them with giant hinges, closing the loop.

It's time to mount the snow-grooming implements.

They attach the tiller to the rear mechanism, which carries the hydraulic connections for the implement's onboard motor.

They attach a blade to the identical front mechanism.

The blade plows snow and sculpts features such as half-pipes, those giant, u-shaped bowls of snow in which freestyle skiers and daredevil snowboarders ride.

For safety, the cabin has a steel skeleton with roll-over protection features.

A specially designed joystick gives the driver precision control over the blade and tiller.

The state-of-the-art electronics include three computers, which enable the driver to select and adjust different functions and modes, all of it displaying on a color monitor.

The vehicle never sinks into the snow because its weight is optimally balanced on the tracks.

This 22,000-pound snow groomer actually exerts less pressure on the snow than a single person does on foot.

The rubber band was invented in england in the middle of the 19th century.

The key to its success, of course, is flexibility.

A rubber band can be stretched around items of various shapes and sizes to hold them together, so in the rubber-band industry, the possibilities for expansion are numerous.

Rubber bands come in handy for a whole bunch of things.

If you have a bunch of anything, a rubber band can keep it together.

Production of rubber bands starts with natural rubber.

These spongy slabs have been made from the sap of rubber trees.

Natural rubber has greater elasticity than the synthetic kind, making it a better choice for rubber bands.

A worker measures and pours rubber processing oil into a kneader machine.

He adds powdered pigment--  in this case, yellow and white for a pale yellow shade.

He feeds several rubber slabs to the kneader's spiral-shaped jaws.

The spiraling blades intersect to break up the rubber and blend in the other ingredients.

The kneading process generates heat which softens the rubber, making it easier to form into dough.

The kneader spits out rubber-dough chunks.

Next, a giant rolling pin transforms the dough into wide, thin pieces.

He slices the strips and bundles them.

In this form, it will be easier to control the weight of the rubber in relation to chemicals that are added next.

They roll the rubber with a precise amount of sulfur and other chemicals that strengthen the rubber and make it more elastic.

They then roll the rubber very thin.

A worker twists and cuts it into small bundles that fit into the opening of an extruding machine.

It forces the still-warm and malleable rubber through dies to shape it into long, hollow tubes.

The extruder injects air and talcum powder into the tubes to keep the walls from collapsing and sticking together while warm.

The tubes cool down in a trough of water, and they deflate as the injected air dissipates.

Next, these aluminum poles will serve as molds for the tubes during curing, giving them the correct shape and diameter.

The worker slides the tubes onto the molds.

The talcum powder injected into the tubes during their extrusion will also act as a release agent, keeping them from sticking to the molds during curing.

They load the tubes into a steam oven, and the intense heat vulcanizes the rubber to boost its tensile strength and elasticity.

Out of the oven, workers inject air between the tubes and the molds, making it easier to peel the now-vulcanized tubes off.

They rinse the rubber tubes to remove talcum-powder residue.

There's so much that the water turns milky white.

They hang the rubber tubes to drain away some of the water.

By the time they're ready to cut, they're a bit too dry, so a worker splashes water onto them.

With the tubes moistened, the next operation will run more smoothly.

He feeds several tubes at once to a rotating blade which carves them.

This creates elastic bands that are exactly the same width.

In this case, that's 1.5 millimeters, an average thickness for a rubber band.

With this system, they can cut 1/2 a million rubber bands in an hour.

It doesn't take long for the inventory to pile up.

There are millions of rubber bands here.

A worker scoops them up and examines each one for defects.

Once approved, all that's left is the packaging.

The rubber bands ride a conveyor that releases them in increments into plastic bags.

It has taken about three hours to produce this bag of rubber bands.

On a normal day, this factory generates 40 million elastics.

That's a lot by any stretch of the imagination.


Pneumatic Impact Wrenches
Cultured Marble Sinks
Plantain Chips
NASCAR Stock Cars

A pneumatic impact wrench is a power tool that tightens and untightens nuts, bolts, and other fasteners.

You hook it up to the air hose coming off a compressor.

The anvil at the tip turns at high speed to tighten until snug, then switches to a hammering action, called impacting, to tighten even more.

You've probably seen a pneumatic impact wrench in action at your local garage.

It's standard equipment for removing and installing wheels.

Air pressure runs through the tool's motor, spinning a rotor within.

That rotates the tool's anvil, which turns the wheel nut.

At the manufacturing plant, they machine the rotor from a bar of steel mounted on a lathe.

It takes about a minute and a half for the computer-guided precision tools to carve out the basic shape.

The next machine carves teeth on one end of the rotor, creating what's called a hobbed edge.

Now a computer-guided mill cuts eight slots.

This shaping of the steel generates a lot of heat, so coolant flows throughout all these machining phases to prevent the equipment from overheating.

Next, they temper the rotors for 10 hours in a 1,700-degree-fahrenheit furnace.

This hardens and strengthens the steel, but to fortify it further, they pump in carbon from a propane burner.

The carbon impregnates each rotor to a depth of .

7 millimeters.

Once the rotor cools, a computer-controlled grinder shapes it to the final specifications.

Then a machine with nylon bristles smoothes the surface.

This completes the transformation from steel bar to rotor.

Meanwhile, the tool's magnesium housing has been getting a bright coat of paint.

The housing has two parts-- the main section and a back cap.

Both go into an oven where the paint bakes for a half-hour at almost 400 degrees fahrenheit.

Now assembly begins with the trigger and the stem of the main section and then, with this tool, what's called the tipper valve.

When you push the trigger, it tips, letting in air.

This spring keeps the tipper valve closed when you're not pushing the trigger.

And this bushing is where you attach the air hose coming from the compressor.

Next, they install the reversing valve.

It slots into the housing just above the trigger.

When you press the trigger, the anvil rotates clockwise to tighten the fastener, but when you activate the reversing valve, it sends the air into different chambers, turning the tool counter-clockwise to remove the fastener.

They glue a rubber pad to the top of the housing to cushion your grip on the tool.

A laser engraves manufacturing information on the back cap.

To assemble the motor, they start with a back cap and press in a bearing on which the rotor will spin.

Next, a plate to enclose one end of the rotor and an alignment pin to position the plate for enclosing the other end.

And finally, the rotor itself.

Into each of the rotors' slots goes a vein made of resin-imbued fabric.

These veins work like the blades on a windmill.

The air entering the tool turns them, which spins the rotor.

After slipping a steel cylinder over the rotor, they enclose it with a second plate, then a larger plate with a ball bearing.

Now some oil to lubricate what they call the impact mechanism.

This component contains the tool's anvil, as well as the parts that produce the hammering action.

Finally, a press seals the main section of the housing to the back cap.

Every pneumatic impact wrench this factory produces goes through extensive testing in both free speed-- that's when the tool spins like an ordinary drill-- and in impact mode.

So, if you've got a nut or other fastener to drive, take one of these babies for a spin.

Natural marble has a modern alternative-- a composite material known as cultured marble.

It consists of ground marble or limestone mixed with liquid plastic.

Less expensive than natural marble and easier to work with than stone, cultured marble is often used to create unique bathroom and kitchen fixtures.

This vanity top and pedestal sink are both made of cultured marble, cast in fiberglass molds.

To make a vanity top, a worker centers a sink-bowl mold on a counter mold...

Then places a drainpipe attachment over the sink mold's exit drain.

He marks with a grease pencil where the faucet openings will be.

Then, he masks off areas to protect and places a bees'-wax seal all along the bowl's edge where it meets the counter.

He sprays the molds with protective gel that will give the vanity top a shiny protective finish.

Finally, he places cardboard tubes over the faucet-hole marks.

The molds are now ready for casting.

A machine equipped with a mixing pot automatically measures out the resin workers pour into these molds.

Raw pigments like sterling silver, sandbar, wild rose, white titanium, and fawn beige gives the resin its color.

A worker sifts them in measured amounts into the resin as it's mixing.

Next, he adds a catalyst to the resin...

Then some granulated limestone to thicken it.

The catalyst sets off the chemical reaction that causes the resin mix, known as matrix, to harden.

From this moment on, he needs to be swift.

He has only 15 minutes to mix, color, and pour this batch of matrix into the molds before it hardens.

He adds more white pigment to the base color, using a paddle to mix it along the surface.

Then he takes the wild rose pigment, mixes in some resin, and again works it into the surface to streak it with color, an effect known as veining, that mimics the look of marble.

He scoops out some of the surface mix and pours it onto the mold.

As the matrix pulls, the rose-colored veining in the surface mix is visible.

Now he pours out the rest of the matrix.

He casts the sink and counter in a single piece so there won't be any grout lines around the bowl.

A pneumatic tool vibrates the molds, bringing tiny air bubbles to the surface-- the vanity's underside.

Air trapped in the matrix can cause it to break or mar the finish.

A worker lays down a temporary plastic hat over the bowl.

He weighs it down to hold it in place as he pours matrix inside the hat to cast a bowl that's as thick as the base-- about .

8 inches.

He lets the matrix set for 30 minutes, then removes the hat from the bowl.

Next, he drops down the mold's backsplash and puts a hole in the drain.

He shoots in bursts of compressed air while a co-worker carefully wedges under the backsplash to part the mold, revealing the vanity's marbled surface.

To make sure the vanity lies level on its cabinet, a worker grinds down the underside, then the drain area.

Next, he sands down the backsplash and the sides, working at an angle with a hand sander to dull any sharp edges.

He removes the drain mold and buffs the surface to a mirror finish.

Finally, he knocks out the faucet holes.

Here's a finished vanity with a variety of integrated sink bowls on display.

Cultured marble truly is a versatile material that offers endless possibilities.

Many of us take time out to enjoy a tasty snack like plantain chips, but we know we should put limits when treating ourselves to a good thing.

The trick is to learn as much as we can about the snacks we're eating so we can choose a treat that's right for us.

Seeing how plantain chips are made can help us make an informed choice.

This looks like a banana, but it's actually a plantain-- a staple food in many parts of the world.

In tropical countries like costa rica, it's made into a popular snack called plantain chips.

The cycle from fruit to snack begins here.

A worker cleans off the root of an offspring from a mature plantain tree.

He prepares the root for planting as if it were a seed.

In time, this seed will grow into a mature plantain tree.

After about nine months, the plantain is ready to harvest.

When a worker picks the fruit, they wrap it in plastic to protect it against insects and disease.

Each mature tree yields only one bushel of fruit its entire life.

Once he harvests the mature tree, it's the tree's offspring that yield more fruit and continue the life cycle.

The worker then rinses the plantain in treated water that helps wash off sap and kill any possible fungus.

Local workers then load the cases of plantains onto their boat for a full day's trip to the processing plant.

Their hard work is valued by the company which is proud to support the local economy.

At the plant, a worker puts the plantain into boiling water for about a minute.

Boiling the fruit changes its color, but more importantly, it greatly reduces the amount of sap the fruit releases, which makes handling and peeling the otherwise sticky skin possible.

The various lengths and widths of plantain prohibit peeling it by machine.

Workers at this costa rican plant cut more than 50,000 pounds of plantain every day, all by hand.

Each one is then cut into slices of a specific thickness for chips.

To do this, workers push the fruit one at a time into a cutting machine.

The slices of plantain fall through the machine into a deep-fry oven below.

A rotating grill and conveyor system helps ensure uniform cooking of the slices in natural palm oil as they travel on an uninterrupted 30-foot journey.

After cooling, the worker removes any under- or overcooked chips.

The chips then travel into a tumbler that adds salt or other seasonings or flavors, depending on the product.

The chips then exit the tumbler and are ready for packaging.

The packaging machine gently funnels the chips into separate chutes as it calculates the exact amount it needs to fill each bag.

Once filled, the packaging machine then cuts and seals the individual bags, then sends them for distribution across the world.

Plantain chips also come in strips.

They're trans-fat free and come in a variety of formats that make a handy treat.

Nascar is one of the most popular spectator sports in north america.

The national association for stock car auto racing holds a series of 36 races a year, mostly at oval or d-shaped tracks on which the cars make only left turns.

They're built from scratch following nascar's strict technical rules.

Nascar's stock cars are based on certain american-made road cars.

The frame is made out of steel tubing.

The hood, roof, and deck lid-- that's like the regular car's trunk cover-- are made out of sheet steel.

The workers who assemble the body are called body hangers.

They position all the parts according to a nascar-authorized template.

Here they clamp the body panels together.

Then, with an aluminum bracket, to the template for shaping.

To make the wheel openings on the front fender, they use shrinking jaws, a tool that curves metal by squeezing it.

Then they switch to a tool called an english wheel.

It rolls the curved metal into a particular shape.

The car's front suspension is essentially the same as that of a regular car, except for the angle of the tires, which they manipulate by putting shims on this upper control arm.

The right front tire tilts inward and the left front tire tilts outward.

That's because these cars race on an oval track in one direction only, so they're making only left turns.

Next, they install a brake rotor.

Then, a steel spacing plate between the rotor and the wheel.

This sets up the specific distance from wheel to wheel that nascar rules require.

They load a pair of brake pads into a brake caliper and slide the caliper onto the rotor.

The caliper contains different-sized pistons so that it applies the brake pads to the rotor evenly.

Now they move onto the car's inner workings.

They mount the transmission to an aluminum housing that covers the flywheel, clutch, and other components.

Then they install the motor.

It's an eight-cylinder, 750-plus horsepower engine.

They attach the car's plastic windshield with bolted clips.

If air gets into the car, these strong clips will keep the windshield from blowing out.

The car's seat core is made of aluminum, padded for comfort.

Every nascar driver has his car seat custom-built to his body shape.

After bolting in the seat, they install the steering wheel.

It has a safety release that lets the driver remove the wheel with a single pull.

This enables him to get in and out of the car easily and to remove the wheel quickly if he's injured in a crash.

Now, for the finishing touches.

First, a large decal of the car's number centered on each door.

Every nascar racecar is also plastered with decals advertising its driver's sponsors.

Nascar's stock cars have a few key safety features.

Fenders allow side-to-side contact between cars without their wheels hooking together.

Roof flaps direct air downward, keeping the cars close to the ground.

This stops a spinning car from flipping over.

A nascar stock car weighs in at more than 3,300 pounds.

It travels to the track in the top deck of a trailer.

This keeps the bottom level clear as a work space for the driver's mechanical crew.


Paper Umbrellas
Coal
Aircraft Seats
Cremation Urns

Paper umbrellas originated in china and eventually spread throughout asia.

Initially, their purpose was solely practical-- to protect against rain and to provide shade from the scorching sun.

But before long, they took on symbolic significance and were incorporated into many ceremonies and rituals.

They're called oil paper umbrellas because the paper is coated with oil or, like these, with oil paint, making the umbrella waterproof.

At this workshop in northern thailand, they cut a bamboo log to the length of the umbrella's radius, then shave off the bark.

They split the log into strips of equal thickness, then group these ribs, as they're called, into bundles of 28.

Each bundle will become the frame of one umbrella.

Next, they thin out the bottom half of each rib and cut a slit in the top half.

Then, using a traditional drill, they bore tiny holes at specific points.

Taking one bundle at a time, they string the ribs together through the uppermost hole and insert them into slots of a hand-carved wooden hub.

Then they tighten and tie off the string to retain the ribs in position and provide a pivot on which the ribs can move up and down.

Next, they attach the scaffold, a smaller hub with shorter ribs strung on it.

They insert a scaffold rib into the slit of each frame rib, then attach them by threading a string through the aligned holes.

The result?

Raising and lowering the scaffold moves its ribs along the slit-- pushing the frame ribs up to open the umbrella, or pulling them down to close it.

With the umbrella open now, they thread more string through holes in the frame ribs and loop it into a spider-web-type pattern.

This produces a sturdy base to support the umbrella's paper skin.

After mounting the frame on a wood and bamboo umbrella handle, they wrap two lines of string along the frame perimeter.

This will support the paper skin at the edge of the umbrella.

They make the paper from the bark of the native saa tree.

The first step is to soften the bark by soaking it in water for about 12 hours, then boiling it for another three or four.

Next, they mash it with wooden mallets for about an hour, turning it into pulp.

They bleach the pulp and wash it again to remove the bleach.

Only then is the pulp ready to become paper.

They dump the pulp in a large basin of water and stir so that it floats in suspension while they move a plastic screen through the water, catching enough floating pulp to coat the screen in a thin layer.

They lay the screen out in the sun for three to four hours until the layer of pulp dries into a thin, fragile sheet of paper.

They cut the sheets to the shapes required, then saturate each piece with glue made from cassava, a tropical root vegetable.

After applying a circular piece around the hub, they glue pie-shaped pieces onto the rest of the frame.

Once they cover the entire frame, they repeat the process to add a second layer.

They fold all the pie-shaped pieces over the end to thicken and, thereby, reinforce the edge of the umbrella.

After about four hours out in the sun, the glue dries, bonding the now stiff and strengthened paper securely to the frame.

They apply three coats of oil paint, allowing four hours of drying time between coats.

This is a key step because aside from providing the background color, the oil paint waterproofs the paper.

Next, they varnish the handle to make it moisture-resistant.

And now for the grand finale-- an artist paints a design in vibrant waterproof oils.

The themes are traditional-- flowers, animals, landscapes, people.

No stencils to trace or patterns to follow-- the artist works entirely freehand, the result being that no two umbrellas are ever exactly alike.

Each oil paper umbrella is a portable work of art.

Pretty yet practical, rain or shine.

The most-used fuel for producing electricity in the world today is coal.

Power plants burn it in their furnaces to heat water into steam that spins giant turbines which generate electricity.

At least 40% of the world's electricity is produced by coal-fired power plants.

Coal developed from prehistoric vegetation that wound up buried underground due to geological changes.

Over millions of years, these decayed plants transformed into combustible rock.

This is why we refer to coal as a fossil fuel.

Coal runs in seams through other rock layers.

Miners drill holes through the seam at several locations, then mix together ammonium nitrate and diesel and pour a precise quantity of this liquid explosive into each bored hole.

The plug the holes with dirt to contain the upcoming explosion.

This directs the force of the blast sideways so that it'll fracture rock as much horizontally as vertically.

They place a blasting cap in each plugged hole, then connect all the blasting cap wires to detonation lines through which they'll send an electrical charge to ignite the explosives.

They install detonation delays to time the blast one after another because successive explosions have greater impact than simultaneous ones.

The blast dislodge and break up the layers of rock between the surface and the coal seam deep below.

Workers clear away the rocks and dirt with a mammoth machine called a dragline.

Removing the blasted rock and dirt exposes the coal, which is still a solid, hard seam.

The side of the mine pit shows how much rock is on top of this particular coal seam.

Once miners blast and clear away that rock, they drill and load the holes to set off more explosives to fracture the coal seam itself.

Then front-end loaders load the coal into specialized trucks called coal haulers.

In one trip, a coal hauler can transport about 220 tons of coal out of the pit to the coal stockpile.

From there, railcars transport the coal to the nearby power plant.

When this company prepares to mine an area, it removes the topsoil on which vegetation grows.

As part of a land reclamation program, the company stockpiles the topsoil until it finishes mining out the coal.

Then it refills the pit with rock and dirt it blasted away, returns the topsoil, and plants native vegetation.

The power plant is situated by a man-made lake, the water source for the steam with which it generates electricity.

When the coal arrives, crushers grind it up into baseball-sized pieces.

After a strategic blending of different grades of coal, to optimize heat output, the coal travels by a conveyor belt to indoor silos.

Each silo feeds crushers, which pulverize the coal into powder.

Now the coal is ready to fuel the furnace.

Meanwhile, huge intake pumps draw lake water.

The furnace heats the water to 1,000° fahrenheit, well beyond the boiling point, transforming it into high-pressure steam.

The steam then enters and rotates turbines, generating electricity.

By the time the steam exits the turbines, it's thermally depleted down to just 120° fahrenheit and depressurized to a vacuum state.

It then passes through a condenser containing cold lake water.

The water absorbs the remaining heat, converting the steam back to water, which is then recycled into new steam.

The combustion process itself creates sulfur dioxide.

The plant runs this gas waste through vessels containing a lime solution to neutralize the sulfur.

This chemical reaction creates water vapor, which exits the plant's stack.

Wires coming off the turbine generators carry the electricity to outdoor transformers.

The outdoor transformers convert it to higher voltage in order to have less energy loss, as the power from coal travels through transmission lines to some 350,000 households.

When you're traveling by air, you want to be sitting in a comfortable seat.

Private aircraft take comfort to a level far above that of commercial airlines with seats that are as cozy and luxurious as fine furniture.

They must also be lightweight and fire-resistant.

On private and corporate aircraft, it's all about luxury seating.

Armchairs often swivel and, at the push of a button, recline with an extending footrest.

The cushions are constructed from layers of fireproof foam containing carbon fiber for optimum support and durability.

Workers cut the cushion pieces using a band saw with a round blade that slices through foam without tearing or shredding it.

They spray adjoining surfaces with water-based contact cement and assemble them.

The assembly combines different thicknesses and three different densities to make the cushion soft in certain areas and rigid in others.

The densities are color-coded.

After letting the glue dry for 12 hours, workers begin the final shaping.

This is the seat-cushion assembly.

They first saw through it laterally to make the right thickness.

Then they temporarily adhere a plastic template of the final cushion shape, trace it, then saw along the trace line.

Next, using the technical drawing as a guide, they mark, then grind the cushion's rounded profile.

Holding the next layer of foam over the edge, they verify the shape with another template.

Then with yet another template, they mark lines for the cushion's creases and, with a foam saw, cut them two inches deep, just enough to insert velcro strips, the backsides of which they glue to the foam with water-based contact cement.

Workers construct the backrest cushion just like the seat cushion-- assembling foam pieces of different thicknesses and densities, shaping the perimeter, grinding the edge profile, cutting and velcroing creases.

Then they apply a final layer of soft foam, 1/2 inch thick, folding the edges onto the velcro inside the creases.

They do the same with the seat cushion, armrests, and footrest.

All the foam cushions are now ready to be covered in genuine leather.

In accordance with safety regulations, the supplier rendered the leather fireproof by treating it with a calcium-based solution.

Seamstresses trace patterns for the cover pieces, then cut them out.

They line the perimeter of each piece with double-faced tape...

Fold over the edges to create a neat hem...

And trim the corners flat.

Then they sew on velcro strips where required.

Finally, they assemble the pieces into covers, sewing an identification label on each one.

They hammer every seam flat to prevent bulges.

Then they sew what's called a french stitch, a line of straight stitches on either side of each seam.

Meanwhile, workers glue fireproof polyester batting to the foam.

This layer between foam and leather will even out the surface.

They tear the perimeter of the batting to thin it out.

Finally, it's time to dress the cushions in their covers.

Workers use a metal rod to help push the leather deep into the creases without bunching up.

Velcro strips on the cover adhere to the velcro strips inside the creases.

The covers also have velcro closures, and certain cushions have velcro strips on the bottom which attach to the seat structure.

Once all the covers are on, workers can complete the seat assembly.

They attach the armrest to the structure with screws, then install the footrest, which attaches with velcro.

It contains a cavity for storing the life vest.

The seat cushion also attaches with velcro.

The passenger seats and pilot seat are constructed the same way, except for the pilot seat often has a sheepskin insert on the sitting surface to absorb sweat and keep the pilot cool and comfortable.

It was the ancient romans who first began using cremation urns.

Today the custom continues.

The remains are stored in urns permanently or sometimes temporarily before burial.

And with cremation, one's final resting place doesn't have to be six feet under.

The cremation urn has an important place in some households.

It's a constant reminder of the dearly departed, helping to keep the memories alive.

The urn starts with a concept.

The potter draws a large-scale design, which he'll use as a reference as he shapes a prototype urn from clay.

He slaps a lump of clay onto the potter's wheel.

The wheel spins, and the potter begins to transform the shapeless lump into the desired form.

The process is called throwing, a potter's term for shaping.

He leaves the bottom open so the walls can be more easily formed into the desired shape.

He'll add a base to the urn later.

As he pulls up the clay to produce the walls, he works it to a uniformed thickness.

He gathers top to narrow the opening, a technique known as collaring.

Then with the potter's wheel at a stop, he takes the shape from round to rectangular and tapers it at the neck.

Then it's into a casting box, which exposes only half of the urn prototype.

He brushes a release agent onto that half.

Using a mixer, he whips up a mix of plaster and water.

He blends it until it thickens to the consistency of pancake batter.

The liquefied plaster will harden in minutes, so he quickly pours it into the box with the urn prototype and fills it right to the top.

As the plaster hardens, the exposed urn prototype makes an impression of half the urn.

He'll make another one exactly like it for the other half of the urn.

He'll attach them with a key system.

For this, he drills notches in one mold half.

The notches match up with raised areas on the other mold half to align them.

He ties the molds together with suspender-like straps, cinching them tightly together.

He adds a base to the urn and straps it to the other two pieces.

He sets the assembled mold upright, exposing the opening of the urn.

He's now ready to make a copy of the original urn.

In fact, he'll make 20 at once using 20 identical plaster molds.

He pumps liquid clay into each one, filling it to the brim.

Over three to four hours, the plaster absorbs water in the clay it comes into contact with, causing it to solidify.

The clay in the center remains liquid.

He pours that into a barrel to be strained and reused.

And now the big reveal-- he opens the mold and removes the urn.

It's exactly like the prototype sculpted by the potter.

He lifts a lid from another plaster mold and checks the fit to the urn.

After drying and an initial firing to harden the clay, a worker coats the urn and lid with a glaze, working from the inside out.

The glaze is a mixture of finely milled minerals and water.

It adds color and a glass-like nonporous surface when fired a second time.

Cremation urns come in a range of styles and colors.

Customers often make a selection that reflects the taste of the deceased.

Another worker now brushes a mixture of wax and alumina onto the neck of the urn and lid.

This will keep them from fusing together during the final firing.

They fire the cremation urns at a very intense 2,200° fahrenheit for about 15 hours.

This transforms the clay into a durable ceramic.

They cool the urns slowly for 13 hours to prevent cracking.

Four days in the making, these urns are now ready to contain a loved one's remains and, in so doing, honor a life.


Leather Sculptures
Travel Hot Plates
Ochre
Hurdy

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

The use of leather as an artist medium dates back to the middle ages, when it was crafted into fierce animal shapes that were then affixed to battle helmets.

Fast-forward several centuries, and some artists are rediscovering leather as a sculpting material and redefining the art of sculpture.

This is leather reimagined.

In this studio, cowhides become art instead of a sofa or a pair of shoes.

It's artistry over utility.

The artist starts by developing a pattern.

He draws imagery within a paper fish shape.

It represents the life cycle of a rainbow trout.

He places the pattern on a cowhide, and using a scriber, he lightly etches the fish shape into the leather.

Using a razor blade, he follows the etched lines to cut out the fish shape.

He dampens the entire piece with a wet cloth.

This softens the leather to prepare it for the drawings on the pattern, which will be transferred to it.

He places the pattern on the dampened leather double.

Using a round-tip tool, he traces the drawings.

The tool makes light impressions on the supple leather.

Following those lines with a swivel knife, he carves the imagery into the leather.

When the leather starts to dry, he redampens it.

Then, with a wedge tool and mallet, he depresses the leather around the main artwork.

This raises the images above the background.

He hammers a disc-tip tool into the leather to make a fish-eye indentation.

Then, using an actual stone, he lightly pounds the rocks in the image.

This transfers the stone's texture to the leather.

He also uses the rock to create shading on the trout and the foliage.

For the fish-scale detail, he pounds a tool with a crescent-shaped tip into the leather.

He works in a linear fashion, row on row, to punch tight scales across much of the art.

This creates a textural symmetry throughout the piece.

Turning to a second matching fish shape, he shaves leather from the back of the fins to give them a lighter, more realistic look.

He applies glue to the edges.

This plain fish shape will serve as the back of the sculpture.

He applies more fins to the glued areas in the underbelly of the fish art.

He then brings the two sides of the fish together and glues them, leaving the bottom fins and the mouth open.

Using an industrial sewing machine for leather, he stitches the fish together with heavy nylon thread.

This fish art is now ready to go from flat to 3d.

He stuffs polyester fill into it.

The leather has been moistened again so that, when it dries, it will shrink tight to the filling.

As he stuffs the leather, he uses a wooden rod to distribute the filling.

He then glues a carved leather fish mask onto the face.

This adds drama to the piece.

He trims the mask.

Then he applies a rainbow of color to the trout, beginning with a silvery shade of white.

He paints an olive-green shade on the top of the fish sculpture and a pinkish-red hue in the middle.

This reflects the colors of the rainbow trout.

He dabs black paint on the fish sculpture to replicate the spots normally found on trout.

He then marks the fish sculpture extensively with silvery white speckles.

He defines some of the etched lines with the same paint to make the imagery bolder.

The artist signs the leather fish.

Making the entire leather sculpture takes over a month.

Now it's ready for public viewing.

With a travel hot plate, who needs room service?

Just unpack this single-burner appliance and plug it into an electrical outlet in the hotel room.

It can be used to warm up soup, fry eggs or make espresso.

It's economical and convenient, no tips necessary.

A travel hot plate offers another way to eat on the road.

Travelers can whip up something to eat pretty much anywhere there is an electrical outlet.

Production starts with steel wire for the heating element.

The wire unwinds and travels over rollers.

The rollers keep the wire at an even tension as machinery pulls it forward.

The machinery winds the wire around a mandrel to produce a tight coil.

A blade then chops the coil to the correct length.

Each coil will serve as a heating element.

A worker slides the coils' ends onto hooks attached to a fixture.

The fixture revolves and meets up with an automated welder, which fuses the hook to the heating coil.

It welds one hook to each end of the coil.

To demonstrate the coil's heating capacity, a technician connects it to an electrical source, and it very quickly becomes so hot it glows.

A worker is now ready to install the coil in the cast-iron burner.

Robots pick up the burners using magnetic power and transfer them to a conveyor system.

The conveyor pushes the burners forward.

In the meantime, a worker threads the coil between posts in an applicator head.

This puts the coil in the correct configuration.

An automated system then moves the applicator head forward on the production line.

A vibrating device applies 16 1/2 tons of pressure to pack an insulating compound into the cast-iron burners.

This compound is made of talcum, magnesite, water, and other ingredients.

The applicator head embeds the heating coil within the insulation, allowing the hooks to protrude.

This isolates the coil from the cast-iron burner to prevent short circuits.

A worker coats each burner with a rustproofing varnish.

The burners bake at a temperature of 212 degrees fahrenheit for 12 hours.

This dries the varnish and hardens the insulation in the burners.

Out of the oven, a worker welds wires to the protruding hooks, which will connect to a thermostat later.

She attaches ceramic sleeves to the wires for electrical insulation.

She then spot-welds metal connectors to the ends of the wires.

She installs an intermediate backplate through which the insulated connectors protrude, and screws the backplate in place.

Another worker installs the cover plate with numerous holes to vent heat from the burner.

She screws a threaded bolt into the hot plate and attaches a ground wire to the center screw.

She slides the thermostat onto the threaded bolt and secures the ground wire.

She adjusts the position of the thermostat and connects the wires.

She now attaches a plastic base and screws a temperature knob into it.

She joins the wires to a power cord and stabilizes the connection with a plastic clamp and cover.

She installs a metal plate over the exposed wires to encase them within the base structure.

She slides rubber feet onto the nubs in the plastic base and applies a label with all the technical details.

Using a probe, she confirms that the hot plate is functional, that there is no current leakage and the wiring is properly isolated from the cast-iron burner.

A technician brings water to a boil on a randomly selected hot plate and measures the temperature to confirm it heats water consistently.

He also aims an infrared camera at the hot burner.

The image proves that heat is evenly disseminated across the surface.

Once it passes all these tests, this travel hot plate is ready to hit the road.

It should provide the means to cook food wherever in the world it happens to land.

Ocher is the original earth tone because it's actually colored earth, yellow, orange, red or brown, depending on its specific mineral composition.

Humans have used ocher as a pigment since prehistoric times and still use it today to tint paint, plaster, and other materials.

From prehistoric cave paintings to renaissance frescoes, the natural hues of ocher endure to this day.

The natural color of ocher depends on the amount and type of iron oxide it contains.

Yellow ocher can also be baked to a shade of red.

There was a time when men mined ocher ore underground with picks and shovels.

Today the old mines are a tourist attraction in roussillon and gargas in the provence region of france, home of the world's largest ocher deposits and where the industrial process for making ocher pigment was invented in the late 1700s.

Today at the last active mine in gargas, france, workers quarry-mine ocher using heavy machinery rather than manual tools.

The ocher ore contains about 10% pure ocher.

The rest is stones and sand, which is why the ore requires processing.

The first step is to wash it.

This turns it into liquid unrefined ocher.

Next the liquid flows through sieves.

Then the liquid ocher flows into troughs leading to a collection basin.

Pumps transfer the liquid ocher at high pressure to the separator, which spins it at high speed.

The centrifugal force separates the sand.

The pure liquid ocher is pumped to drying tanks.

Over several months, the ocher gradually settles to the bottom.

Workers drain the water, then collect the coarse ocher powder that remains.

Traditional processing machinery is on display at the old ocher factory in roussillon, france.

The crusher would reduce blocks of ore into fist-sized pieces for the mill to grind.

The ground ore would then drop through three consecutive sieves, which allowed only fine ocher powder to pass through, and collect in a barrel below.

At this modern factory, this mill grinds the coarse ocher powder until the particles are no more than 30 microns in size, the consistency of flour.

To make red ocher, workers put yellow ocher in a gas-fired oven and bake it for 15 minutes at 1,380 degrees fahrenheit.

The heat dehydrates the iron oxides, which turns the color to red.

When an order comes into the factory, a worker releases the required amount of ocher from the storage silos to the packaging machine.

This factory has packaging machines for several retail sizes.

Ocher isn't merely a red or a yellow pigment.

One can produce a wide range of colors by playing with the percentages of those two base colors as well as by adding other types of natural pigments.

For centuries, artists have mixed ocher into oil and other media to make paint.

This artist is making what's known as tempera.

She cracks an egg, separates the white and sets aside the yolk to use.

She drops a few spoonfuls of ocher on her palette.

Then adds some stirred egg yolk to bind it.

She mixes the ingredients thoroughly with her palette knife and crushes lumps with a mortar until the tempera is just the right smooth consistency to begin applying to her canvas.

Another medium one can pigment with ocher is cheese.

This is known as casein painting, casein being the milk protein that's a major component of cheese.

It must be fresh fat-free white cheese.

And an artist mixes it with lime to make it water-soluble.

Casein paint resembles oil paint once dry.

However, it's inflexible and too brittle to use on canvas, so it's suitable only for rigid surfaces such as artist board, furniture, woodwork, and walls.

Ocher can also pigment plaster, concrete, ceramic, and other construction materials for an authentic earth-tone palette that only nature can create.

A hurdy-gurdy is a stringed musical instrument with a unique sound.

To play it, musicians do two thubgs simultaneously-- turn a crank and play a keyboard.

The crank turns a wheel that rubs against the strings like a violin bow.

The keys press on the strings, changing their pitch.

This french hurdy-gurdy maker specializes in restoring antiques like this instrument crafted in 1918 and this very damaged gem from 1882.

The artisan carves new support struts using the original ones as templates.

The struts are curved outward, making the soundboard convex.

He uses spruce because it's a lightweight wood which vibrates well to conduct sound.

Constructing a different instrument now, he runs a strip of maple through a sander to reduce the thickness to less than a tenth of an inch.

This will become the two ribs which form the sides of this instrument.

He cuts the strip in half and marks the direction of the wood grain, so he can butt the ribs in mirror image.

He dampens each rib with water and runs it against a hot iron.

This steams a curve into the wood.

He repeats this process again and again until the curve fits a wooden form that's the exact shape of the instrument.

He clamps both ribs to the form and lets them set for a full week.

French hurdy-gurdies are traditionally guitar-shaped or lute-shaped.

To construct a new lute-shaped body, the artisan removes the ribs from the antique instrument he's restoring, traces each one onto a strip of maple, then cuts out the shape with a band saw.

He constructs a lute-shaped wooden form, then uses the hot iron to curve the new ribs to the shape of the form.

This instrument has nine ribs.

He alternates between maple and pearwood.

He tapes the ribs together and lets them set for a week.

This hurdy-gurdy was made in 1741.

The original crank-driven wheel rubbed against the strings to produce sound like a violin bow.

The wheel is all warped now, so he crafts a new one, on a lathe, out of pearwood.

The keyboard's black keys are made of ebony wood.

He cuts the basic shape with a small circular saw.

Then he refines the dimensions with a small router.

These new keys are part of the restoration of this 1893 instrument.

He lightly files the original key-box slots so that the new keys will insert smoothly.

The bottom row has 13 black keys, the top row, 10 black keys with white tops made of bone.

Just below the key box, the top third of the wheel sticks out through a slot in the soundboard.

And just below that is this component, the main bridge.

The artisan traces a template on a block of maple, drills an access hole for his fine marquetry saw, then cuts it out.

The main bridge props up the instrument's two main melody strings.

He checks the height and shaves off excess wood with a small plane.

He'll stain the bridge to match the rest of the instrument and glue it onto the soundboard.

This hurdy-gurdy has new keys and a new wheel-and-crank mechanism.

He installs new strings, starting with the two melody strings.

Attached to a tailpiece at the bottom, they pass over the bridge, the wheel and through the key box, wrapping around new steel tuning pegs at the top.

This restoration also requires new tangents, two wedges of maple set into each key.

Playing a key presses the tangents against the strings.

The artisan installs four more strings which hit the sides of the wheel, pass over smaller bridges and attach to the bottom of the instrument.

They make a buzzing background sound, so they're called drone strings.


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

Lighters...

Fossils...

Hockey pucks...

And high-pressure cylinders.

It's a case for combustion.

Spin the wheel, and you have an instant flame.

Flip the lid, and the flame is extinguished.

A version of the lighter first appeared in the 19th century.

At the time, it was more of a conversation piece than anything, a curiosity that received plenty of interest.

Lighters aren't a novelty anymore, but they're still used every day.

To make lighter cases, a machine uncoils brass from a spool, pulling it to a press.

The press stamps the brass repeatedly to shape both the top and bottom parts of the case.

A worker collects them and places them on a revolving table.

Another worker slides on a hinge to link the top and bottom pieces.

An electrode welds the hinge to the case.

Then a mechanical arm knocks them down a chute to a worker who inspects the welding job.

As the cases move on a conveyor system, they get a quick buff to prepare them for plating.

The lighter cases are now plunged into a series of washing solutions and rinses, followed by a nickel solution...

Then a chrome one.

It's the finishing touch for the lighter cases.

It's time to move on to the inner workings.

A die shapes a piece of steel to make the inside cases.

Mechanized arms then place a tube and plate in the case.

The tube will hold the flint stone, and the plate will form the top of the inner case.

Epoxy seals them in place, and the cases move through a curing oven to harden the epoxy.

A worker arranges a pile of flint wheels so that the teeth are in the proper direction.

Grippers load the flint wheels into an assembly jig.

These cams will eventually act as a catch for the lighter lid.

A gripper places the cam in the jig beside the flint wheel.

The assembly jig now receives little brass eyelets between the flint wheel and the cam.

The machine slides the inner case over the flint wheel, cam, and eyelet.

And an automated device rivets it all together.

A machine lowers a wick to the eyelet and threads it through.

Blades move in from the side and snip the wick.

This machine stuffs pieces of cotton into the inner case.

The cotton will soak up and retain fuel when the consumer adds it later.

Steel plungers tamp down the wick and cotton.

Here a die punch cuts a piece of felt to size.

Automated arms pick up the felt and shove it into the top of the inner case.

Here grippers place a flint spring in the case just over the flint stone.

Pneumatic screwdrivers drive the screw home.

A rubber wheel spins the flint, and sparks fly as a light sensor checks their intensity.

After the flint check, technicians install the inner unit in the case.

They check the fit.

They test the function.

And they're off to be shipped.

It takes many hours of work to make a fossil replica.

Real dinosaur bones, millions of years old, are used to make life-size renditions.

You'll find these fossil facsimiles on display in museums.

They're very exact, almost indistinguishable from the real thing.

The dinosaur looms large once again, brought back to life thanks to an evolution in casting techniques.

Building these replicas is a job that can involve both high-tech know-how and hands-on skill.

They start with the real thing, an ancient fossil.

This is a dinosaur's upper jawbone.

They laser-scan it, producing a three-dimensional image.

The scanner feeds the image to a computer.

Then it's time to go to print.

But this isn't an ink-and-paper job.

This tray is filled with plaster powder.

The printer outlines the jawbone shape with a liquid hardener.

The result is this plaster cast of the jawbone.

There is a more traditional way to make a fossil replica.

They arrange plywood around a fossil of this dinosaur foot.

Then they lay sheets of clay on the wood and press it to the dinosaur bone.

With a clay pick, they make a 90-degree angle at the bone to give it a clean line.

Using more clay, they build a spout and a riser at one end of the bone.

They etch an i.d. number into the clay.

Then they paint liquid rubber onto the fossil and the abutting clay.

They place fiber-glass sheets on the rubber, wetting it down with a polyester mix first.

They work the fiber glass into the shape of the fossil, then paint a red gel coat onto it.

It's a color code to identify the species-- a duckbilled dinosaur called a lambeosaurus.

Now they have one side of a mold.

When both sides of the mold are fabricated, they pair them up, and this fossil mold is complete.

The rubber layer inside picks up the fossil's detail, while the outer fiber-glass one will hold the rubber rigid as they pour a polyester- and-water mix into the spout.

It takes 45 minutes to harden.

And now it's time for the big reveal.

It's an exact replica.

Next they form part of the skull.

They make this part with hollow fiber glass instead of solid polyester.

This will ease the load on the steel framework later.

All the larger bones are cast with hollow fiber glass because of weight issues.

This is a mastodon head.

They mold up to 300 pieces to produce these skeletal replicas.

On one side of the skeleton, they literally flesh out some details.

They sculpt scales onto a clay-like fill to demonstrate how a dinosaur would look with some skin.

The other side remains bare bones to give the viewer an inside look.

A little glue completes the spine work.

Then they mount the skull.

When the front leg goes on, this 2-sided fossil is ready to go.

It's a real museum piece.

Early hockey pucks were made of wood.

But for informal games, even objects like stones would suffice.

Eventually rubber became the puck material of choice.

The modern puck is three inches wide by one inch thick.

Pucks are usually frozen before games to reduce their bounce on the ice.

11 different ingredients go into making these rubber hockey pucks.

The recipe begins with natural rubber.

Two types of oil make the rubber durable.

Certain minerals act as curing agents and antiaging agents.

And a form of coal dust, called carbon black, serves as a filler.

Workers feed the ingredients into a preliminary mixer-- first the slabs of natural rubber, then antioxidants to lengthen the rubber's life-span, then one type of oil to help blend in the dry chemicals, then another type to refine the rubber's rigidity level, then additives such as calcium carbonate and sulfur to help cure the rubber during the molding process, and finally, the carbon black filler.

After 10 to 15 minutes of this preliminary blending, the mixture goes down a chute and onto a conveyor belt, which transports it to a machine called the mill mixer.

It will perform the final mix.

At this point, workers add more natural rubber.

Then they add another, harder rubber that will make the hockey pucks more resilient.

The recipe is formulated to produce a very hard rubber, one that can stand up to the rigors of repeated blows from a hockey stick.

It's critical that the ingredients blend evenly.

That's why workers continually cut the rubber while it's mixing.

In the company lab, technicians evaluate a sample from each batch.

This device is called a rheometer.

It analyzes what's called the curing curve-- how the rubber hardens and to what degree.

A computer compares the curing curve to the quality model.

If they match, the batch gets the go-ahead.

The rubber hasn't yet gone through the curing process, so it's still malleable.

An extrusion machine squeezes it through a round die.

This produces logs about 40 inches long and 3 inches wide-- the exact diameter of the hockey puck.

The next machine slices each log like a loaf of bread into 39 pieces.

Each piece is 1.1 inches thick.

These pieces are called preforms because at this stage they're not quite fully formed pucks.

Workers put them into compression molds that look like giant muffin pans.

Each mold cavity is the exact size of the finished hockey puck.

A cover goes on.

Then the molds go into a curing press, which compresses the preforms and heats them to 300 degrees fahrenheit.

It takes 18 minutes for the rubber to cure.

The preforms come out as hockey pucks-- rock-hard and 1/8 of an inch thinner than before.

They cool for 24 hours.

During the compression phase, excess rubber oozed out and stuck to the pucks, so workers run each and every puck manually through a trimming machine.

There is excess rubber stuck to the molds, as well.

The factory scrapes it off, grinds it up, and uses it as filler in subsequent batches.

The mold embedded a dimple pattern on the puck's edge.

This texture creates friction between the puck and hockey stick.

The more friction, the better stickhandling and the greater control the players have.

High-pressure cylinders are metal containers designed for storing gases and for dispensing them at high pressure.

Think fire extinguishers and oxygen tanks.

The contents are often flammable, so the challenge is how to make these often lifesaving cylinders safe yet still easy enough to use.

These cylinders are made out of chromoly, a steel alloy containing chromium and molybdenum.

They start with disks that have already been heat-treated at 1,300 degrees fahrenheit for 36 hours.

Now they go into the first of five hot chemical baths that will help the metal flex.

After a quick drying period, each disk moves over a die.

This process is known as deep drawing because a series of machines will gradually draw out the disk to the shape of a cylinder.

A mandrel press begins stretching the metal, applying up to 800 tons of force-- the weight of two fully loaded jumbo jets.

Shaping the cylinder from just one piece of metal means it will be seamless, and that's a key safety feature.

After the disk comes through, steel jaws clamp down on the mandrel, and the cylinder slips off.

Now another press stretches it even more.

This machine applies 250 tons of force to continue forming the walls of the cylinder.

That liquid is a coolant to prevent overheating.

The cylinder goes through as many as three presses, each one stretching it another 60%.

This press forms the closed bottom end into a concave shape.

That reinforces the base, helping the cylinder withstand up to a thousand times more pressure than a can of cooking spray.

A band saw now slices up to 4 inches off the other end, which will become the top of the cylinder.

Next, a torch heats that end to 1,800 degrees fahrenheit for 90 seconds.

In a process called hot spinning, a worker then places the cylinder in a device that spins it at 1,000 rpm.

As a torch maintains the temperature, the machine shapes the edge of the searing-hot metal into a curve.

In this way, the machine gradually closes off the top end and shapes two rounded areas called the shoulder and neck.

Making these areas curved is the best way to contain pressurized gases.

Curves spread out the stress on the metal.

A sharp corner would focus the stress in one spot.

The only exit for gases will be through a valve at the top.

Workers then place 18 cylinders in a furnace heated to more than 1,600 degrees fahrenheit.

After 90 minutes, a machine then dunks them in a chemical bath to cool for six minutes.

The cylinders are then reheated to 1,200 degrees fahrenheit for 90 minutes, then left to cool for two hours.

These transitions between hot and cold-- a process called tempering-- strengthen the metal and make it somewhat flexible.

A cutting tool carves open the neck and cuts threads inside it.

This provides the best seal when the valve screws into the neck.

Workers clean the cylinder's surface using a process called shotblasting.

A machine shoots these tiny steel pellets at the cylinders at very high speed.

They test the cylinder by filling it with water.

Then they seal it off and immerse it in water.

The machine then adds more water to the cylinder and gauges how well it withstands the extra pressure.

They rinse the inside with hot water, then dry and clean it by blowing in some purified air.

Next, a hydraulic press indents the shoulder of the cylinder with legally required markings, such as the manufacturing date and the serial number.

A machine then stretches a steel collar over the neck.

Another device, called a valver, tightly screws on the valve, creating a leakproof seal.

After a trip to the paint shop, these high-pressure cylinders are ready to be filled and keep it all under control.


Cotton
Rodeo Roping Chutes
Asian Noodles
Rotary Engines

The exact origins of the cotton plant are unknown, although archeologists have unearthed pieces of cotton cloth over 7,000 years old.

Through the centuries, cotton fiber was traditionally processed by hand until the first 18th century, when the first automated processing machine was invented.

Before cotton arrives at the textile mill to be spun into thread and woven into fabric, it makes the journey from field to bale.

Cotton takes about five months to grow from a planted seed to a ripe plant.

This harvesting machine, called a cotton picker, plucks fluffy seed cotton out of the plant's bowl, leaving a trail of burrs and sticks behind.

The machine empties the plucked cotton into a tractor-drawn buggy.

This machine builds the seed cotton into a humongous rectangular block called a module.

A truck transports the module to the processing plant, known as a cotton gin.

Once the cotton arrives to the processing plant, sticks and burrs are removed, as well as any lingering debris and seeds.

A truck dumps the module into a feeder, which moves the packed seed cotton into a dispenser.

The ground seed cotton falls onto a conveyor belt, which leads to the hot box.

The hot box mixes the seed cotton with hot air, which allows the moisture to evaporate, making the seed cotton easier to clean.

A machine called the wad buster breaks up the clumps of seed cotton by tossing it against a screen.

Loose debris falls through the screen openings, down a narrow shoot.

Then the seed cotton moves through a machine called the steady flow, which divides it equally between two processing lines.

On each line, the seed cotton enters a burr machine, which grabs the seed cotton with a circular saw and swings it against metal bars.

The centrifugal force shakes off the heavier debris.

The seed cotton exits the machine through one pipe, and the debris through another.

A large auger transfers the debris to a waste chute and out of the plant.

The seed cotton is ready for the final stage of processing.

A network of pipes feeds a row of machines called gin stands.

The gin stand separates the seed from the fluffy stuff, called the lint.

Inside each stand are 116 circular saws, which are arranged horizontally, each separated by a steel rib.

The saw teeth grab the seed cotton and pull the lint through the narrow gap between saw and rib.

The seed is too large to pass through, so it spins in front of the rib, then drops into a conveyor.

The lint goes into a flue which leads to the packing area.

Cotton seed is sold as livestock feed, particularly for dairy cows.

It contains 23% protein, 20% fat, and 25% fiber.

Cotton seed is also milled into cotton seed oil, a cooking oil that's a common ingredient in salad dressings and mayonnaise.

The cotton lint is now ready to be formed into bales.

Pipes feed the loose lint to the press area.

When it arrives, a pusher moves the lint into a machine called the tramper, which shoves it down into a bale-shaped box.

Once the box reaches 500 pounds of cotton lint, a press compacts the lint...

And tie-wraps the bale.

Next, a conveyor moves the bale to a bagging machine and past grippers, which pull a sample from each side.

While the bale slides into a protective plastic bag, the grippers deposit the sample into a bin.

Technicians label the bale with an i.d. number, then open the bin to retrieve the corresponding sample.

Then the sample is bagged and labeled with the bale i.d. number.

The factory submits the sample to the united states department of agriculture, where it's analyzed for fiber length, cleanliness, color, and other criteria.

Once the analysis is complete, the bale is given a grade and processed accordingly.

A roping chute is a temporary stall with a spring-loaded gate.

During roping competitions, livestock are placed in this holding device until the gate opens, releasing the steer.

The steer is given a head start while a professional rider follows on horseback while another steer enters the chute, ready for the next chase.

In a roping competition at the rodeo, the chute is the starting point and holding gate for the steer.

An operator opens the gate to release the animal into the arena, signaling the games to begin.

To make a roping chute, technicians start with a coil of steel.

The coil unwinds, moving between rollers.

The rollers form the coil into tubing that will be used for the chute's framework.

A constant flow of coolant prevents overheating and flushes away dirt and contaminants.

Next, the tubing travels through a welding operation.

Rollers close the gap, and a welder fuses the seam.

Then the tubing travels through a channel with flowing coolant.

Once out of the channel, a blade cuts it to size.

An operator loads the tubing into a rotary bending machine.

He activates the machine, which rotates to form rounded corners.

The operator makes two bends in the tubing, which creates the frame for a gate.

He will need to make two of these to complete the gate.

An automated shear cuts steel sheets, creating panels for the walls.

At the next station, a computerized laser cuts out parts on another steel sheet to make a control box.

The laser cuts holes for components and perforates the steel.

The perforations map out the locations for folds and make it easier to fold the steel.

Next, a technician works on parts called linkages, welding rivets to each end.

These linkages will connect the tailgate to the frame, allowing the gate to slide open.

The technician locks the tailgate frame in a fixture.

The fixture holds the frame steady as he welds one end of the linkages.

The other end is riveted.

The rivet has a head to allow a pivoting action as the gate slides open.

He welds steel panels to the tailgate.

They'll serve as shields, keeping the animal's legs protected from becoming trapped in the chute.

He also welds a shield to the threshold.

At the next station, another technician begins construction on the head gate.

He welds steel pipes to the upper part to create grating for ventilation.

He creates steel panel enclosures instead of more open grating to protect the animal's legs.

On the top of the two doors, he welds more paneling, which will keep the animal's head inside the gate when it's closed.

The roping chute's head gate is now complete.

It operates like a saloon door, swinging open to release the animal into the arena.

Next, the parts are placed in a welding jig.

One of the welders installs a release mechanism for the head gate while the other welds the tailgate to the sidebars.

At the front, the assembler adds a braking device that will keep the gate open when needed.

They align side panels to the frame...

And open the gates to gain access to the chute as they weld the panels to the frame.

This completes the structural components of the rodeo roping chute.

Springs are installed to support the opening and closing of the head gate.

The tension is adjusted accordingly.

Then the roping chute is immersed in vat of blue paint.

A crane lifts the chute out of the vat, and it's set aside to dry.

The operating levers are painted separately.

Once try, operators bold them to the release mechanism and brakes.

During a roping competition, the operator will turn the head gate levers to release the animal at specifically timed intervals.

Then, it's up to competing professionals to grab the bull by the horns as fast as they can.

The word noodle is derived from the german word nudel, but the food itself was invented in china as early as 4,000 years ago.

Even though cooking with noodles originated in china, cultures from around the globe have used noodles in an array of unique and tasty dishes.

Noodles seem simple.

They're just unleavened dough formed into different shapes and sizes and then cooked, but manufacturing them isn't as simple as you'd think.

Noodle recipes always start with flour.

At this facility, a food-processing technician pours wheat flour and water into a large mixer.

The technician makes sure the ratio equals 80.4% flour to 17% water.

The remaining 2.6% is salt.

The dough is flattened and rolled in a molding machine.

Once the molding machine has finished flattening and winding the dough into big rolls, they're set aside to mature.

Then each roll goes through this machine, called a calendar mill.

A calendar mill is a series of pressure rollers designed to reduce a material to a uniform thickness.

The dough is flattened and rolled six more times in the molding machine until it reaches its desired thickness.

The calendar mill quickly and accurately slices the dough into slender noodles before cutting them to 47 inches.

It's important for dough to mature.

This helps give it strength and elasticity.

The noodles fold over hangers and head to the next station.

A food-processing technician transfers seven hangers of noodles to one hanger, which is the appropriate density needed for the final maturation phase of noodle production.

The technician wheels the hangers into a device called a steam boiler.

The noodles will spend 3 1/2 hours steaming at temperatures up to 212 degree fahrenheit.

Once thoroughly steamed, the noodles are moved to a station to cool and dry for 24 hours before they're ready for packaging.

The workers who package these noodles are specially trained using a scale, which helps them determine how many noodles should be bundled together.

Once their training is complete, the technician can bundle the right quantity of noodles by eye.

This facility relies on a traditional, manual process to manufacture their noodle.

According to the facility, this allows workers an opportunity to closely inspect the quality of the noodles.

This facility also manufactures a dry noodle.

The process is nearly the same, except that rather than go through a maturation phase in a steam oven, these noodles dry, step by step, in a thermostatic room.

The production line manufactures the noodles at 45 inches before transferring them to small bins where large, stainless steel blades chop them down to 7 inches.

For these noodles, the manufacturers have added turmeric, a spice which provides both color and flavor and is also believed to have health benefits.

While this facility packages certain noodle varieties by hand, it also has a fully automated packaging line for other types of noodles.

Manufacturers produce different varieties of noodles based on customer demands.

They sell them packaged and in bundles.

This line is packaging them in 3-ounce bundles.

After thousands of years, people all over the world still can't get enough of eating a variety of dishes made up of noodles.

Throughout the 20th century, multiple versions of the rotary engine were manufactured.

Even though they were small, light, and fast, those produced had high fuel consumption and released large amounts of emissions.

Today, the rotary engine has been redesigned, revving up for a comeback.

The rotary engine that powers this go-kart is one-fifth the size and weight of the piston engine it has replaced.

With less to weigh it down in the engine department, this go-kart can gain some major speed.

This rotary engine aims to boost fuel efficiency and cut emissions.

Produced on a limited scale, this prototype is small enough to fit in a backpack.

The housing is made from a solid block of aluminum.

Computer models are used to generate the machining instructions.

Traditional rotary engines have an oblong shaped housing and a triangular rotor that spins within the interior.

This new design performs differently.

Computerized tools profile the triangular housing, creating combustion chambers on the inside and cooling fins on the outside.

They transform a solid hardened steel cylinder into a hollow crank shaft.

The cylinder turns in a lathe as a series of cutters sculpt it together, creating a hollow crankshaft that will funnel air and fuel into the engine.

Computerized tools mill a piece of steel to a precise geometry.

This peanut-shaped rotor is the heart of the rotary engine.

The rotor is immersed in de-ionized water as an electrified brass wire generates a spark that cuts into the steel.

This step forms a ridged hole in the center that will connect to a gear.

A technician inserts the pinion gear in a vessel which will engage with the ridged profile in the center of the rotor.

Then the technician fills the vessel with liquid nitrogen, which freezes to negative 374 degrees fahrenheit.

The liquid nitrogen causes the gear to shrink.

He transfers the frozen pinion gear to the rotor.

Using a press, he drives the pinion gear into the rotor to a specific depth.

As the pinion gear thaws to room temperature, it expands to its original size, allowing it to fit snugly in the rotor gear.

Another computerized machine carves into a piece of cast iron steel, held in the fixture by bolts.

This piece will be the seal for the engine.

The seal is sliver thin and tightly engineered.

It's a critical part that will keep the rotary engine's working chambers air-tight.

The seals will slide between the rotor and one of the engine's chrome-plated side plates.

An automated grinding wheel gives the side plate a level and mirrored finish.

Heating the side plate causes the center board to temporarily widen.

A technician inserts a bearing into the bore and, as it cools, it shrinks to the bearing.

The assembler inserts the crank shaft in the side cover.

He turns the assembly over and slides a ring gear into the cover.

He sets the fixture in an upright position and turns the crankshaft to confirm that it revolves smoothly.

He slides the rotor, equipped with one of the seals, onto the crankshaft.

Next, the technician assembles the housing to the motor...

And tests the rotation of the rotor.

As the rotor turns, it forms chambers where the combustion cycle will take place.

He slips a bearing and a counterweight onto the shaft, followed by a bell mouth.

The exhaust cover has three ports to release gasses.

The port in the center is the opening for the bell mouth.

The technician attaches an engine intake adaptor to the bell mouth.

After the components have been secured with bolts, a dynamometer machine runs the engine and measures its performance.

Capable of running on a variety of fuels, this new rotary engine is ready to start powering things.