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For this invention, the path to success has been bumpy and rocky, and that's the whole idea. The all-terrain vehicle was developed for off-road driving back in the 1970s. The first machines were three-wheelers, and then the safer four-wheelers came along, improving on a concept that was truly trailblazing. If you're looking for adventure, an all-terrain vehicle will get you out of a rut. All that bouncing around won't hurt a bit because the independent rear suspension takes some of the shock out of that bumpy ride. To make an all-terrain vehicle, they clamp pieces of the steel framework to a worktable. The table flips and lands in a precise position for welding robots to go to work. These computerized robots do all the big welds. Humans take over for the more intricate work. Once the vehicle mainframe is complete, they hang it on an overhead rail, which takes it through a painting station. When the paint is dry, they lock it onto rails that will move it down the assembly line. They tie the radiator to it with hose. It will be attached more securely later. The steering axle for the front wheels goes in next. At the next station, they bolt the steel handlebars to the front of the vehicle. They hoist a 300cc engine into the chassis. It's suitable for beginners or smaller riders. They fit the carburetor into the engine manifold. Moving down the line, they install the suspension system for the front wheels and run the brake lines to the brake disks. They brace the suspension with a steel bracket. The extra support will come in handy when this atv is on rough terrain. They push the outer exhaust pipe onto one that extends from the engine and hook them together with springs. They then slide the front and rear clutches onto grooved shafts and connect them with a rubber belt to transmit power from the engine to the transmission. The radiator has been permanently mounted to the chassis, and they bolt the coolant tank to the framework above it. The 4 1/2-gallon fuel tank goes between the handlebars and seat. They insert the air-filter box in an opening behind the tank. This much bigger lid goes on the storage box in the front. And after a little trademark artwork, they push the instrumentation panel into place between the handlebars. Footwells made of rigid plastic flank each side of the atv. At the next station, they mount the front grille and headlights. They screw a rack onto the back. It can be used to tie down anything from camping gear to game. Workers then press a comfy vinyl seat onto the center of the vehicle, snapping it into place. Now this all-terrain vehicle is ready for its wheels. The back ones are larger to provide that cushioning effect over the bumps, while the smaller wheels in the front provide traction and maneuverability. They apply reflector decals to the sides and back, so the atv can be seen more easily when daylight dims. The tank has been fueled, and this atv is ready to take a ride on the drum tester. The operator parks the wheels on a set of drums. He activates the computer, and those drums are ready to roll. The gate closes, and the atv rides on the spinning drums, reaching high speeds without actually moving. It's the perfect opportunity to test the gears, brakes, and exhaust system. The operator then gives the brakes a workout because good brakes are critical in backwoods conditions. And it passes. From the three-wheel machine of the '70s to the flashy four-wheeler of today, the atv continues to be popular off the beaten track. Thousands of years ago, scandinavians strapped wooden planks on their feet to glide across snow. Those first skis enabled them to hunt and trap in the winter. Essentially, they skied to live. Today, however, some of us live to ski, and cutting-edge equipment is part of the appeal. In the past century, downhill skis have become shorter and curvier for peak performance. They start with a squared-off ash log. A band saw slices it into several planks. Ash is supple, but strong, which makes it the ideal wood for the core of a ski. A second blade thins each plank at the end and widens it where the skier's foot sits. Sanding establishes subtle angles on the edges. Then the planks move along to a machine that cuts teeth into them. A ridged applicator applies epoxy glue to the toothy ends of two boards. Machinery presses them together for a tight fit. As the glue dries, it creates a permanent bond. The two planks are now one ski core. It still needs some fine-tuning, so a robot positions it on a conveyor, which takes it under a sanding belt. It smooths the interlocked section and grinds deep cuts into the core. This defines the parabolic shape that helps skiers carve through powder in short, clean turns. They silk-screen graphic artwork and logos onto plastic. It's a bit of corporate p.r., but the flashy designs can also inspire the skier. An operator then brushes a release agent into a mold, as she prepares to build and shape several skis at a time. A little vacuuming gets rid of any dust that would sully the work. Then she tucks pieces of graphite-fortified polyethylene into the mold. It will form the base of the skis. She places rubber on the ends to minimize vibrations while skiing. Next come layers of special fiberglass that run the length of each ski. This material is both flexible and durable. It's been formulated specifically for skis. The weave varies from layer to layer, depending on the type of ski. Strips of rubber reinforce the back ends, followed by pieces of heavy-duty polyurethane. The assembler places the curved wooden cores on top of the synthetic layers. She installs melamine to build up the ski's sidewalls. This improves gripping in hard snow. To provide a firm base for bindings, she covers the narrow waist of the ski with more fiberglass, followed by an aluminum plate to hold the binding screws in the ski. More layers of fiberglass follow, imbued with epoxy glue, which is about to be activated. Once the colorful top sheet is secured, they close the mold. Inside, the temperature reaches 212 degrees fahrenheit. This causes the glue impregnated in the fiberglass to liquefy, while the mold squeezes the layers into the shape of the ski. When the glue hardens, the many layers become one solid ski. It's a fusion of synthetic, wood, and metal. But it's still a bit rough around the edges, so this robot smooths the tip and tail of the ski against a sanding belt. The ski then travels over several grinding wheels. This cleans it up and creates angles for precision carving on the slopes. Then, like a powerful fist, this machine tests its flexibility and strength. Finally, a worker screws a rail system to the waist of the ski to make it easier for the ski shop to install bindings. Then it's all downhill from here, which, of course, is the whole idea. A laser cutter is a high-tech machine that factories use to cut parts out of metal. The traditional way to cut metal is with a stamping press, a slower process that requires a separate tool for each type of cut. A laser cutter's computer-guided beam can precision-cut virtually any shape. A laser cutter is made up of a laser resonator, which produces the beam, and a mechanical system that moves the laser over the metal in a computer-controlled pattern. To build the laser resonator, they mill two blocks of aluminum. Each will hold a mirror on opposite ends of the resonator. They will reflect light back and forth inside the chamber to form the laser beam. All the parts go into a cleaning solution because any contaminants would shorten the laser's life. Assembly takes place in a clean room. After mounting the aluminum blocks onto separate aluminum tubes, they slide one tube inside the other. This forms the resonator's main structure. They install an electrical connector on one of the blocks. Then they mount a mirror onto each aluminum block. A generator pumps electrical energy into a pressurized mixture of gasses, producing particles of light called photons. The mirrors at both ends of the resonator direct the photons back and forth, creating the laser beam. They now fill the resonator with that pressurized gas. It's a mixture of nitrogen, carbon dioxide, and helium. For the laser beam to cut well, it has to be the right shape, but the beam is invisible. So, to see its shape, they have to shoot it into a plastic cube and observe the formation it makes. They gradually fine-tune the beam's shape by adjusting the mirrors on the resonator. They keep at it until the laser cuts a cone formation in the plastic. On top of the tubes, they install a square housing containing a series of mirrors, which further refine the beam. Meanwhile, a robotic welder fuses sheets of steel to construct the laser resonator's housing. On the main machine, these large suction cups move the sheet of metal to the cutting area. The sheet remains stationary, while a motion unit moves the laser beam over it. A rack-and-pinion system propels the motion unit. The system's racks must be perfectly aligned for the machine to cut accurately, so a technician uses precision measuring equipment to check the racks, then various tools to make adjustments. Once that's done, they set up the guide rails on which the motion unit rides, then mount the motion unit onto them. They bolt the motion unit to the front of the machine and the housing that contains the laser resonator to the back of the machine. The resonator creates the laser beam. Mirrors deliver it to the motion unit's cutting head. Lenses inside the head focus the beam on the metal that's underneath. They run a series of tests to ensure the machine cuts with ultimate precision. It all boils down to whether the motion unit moves accurately, which means the drive-system racks must be perfectly aligned. After testing, they enclose the cutting head with a safety cover made of sheet metal and plexiglas. The cutting head's copper-tipped nozzle emits the laser beam, while a curtain of brass pins confines that beam to a restricted area. The motion unit moves in three axes, enabling the laser beam to cut different thicknesses in two dimensions. A stamping machine leaves rough edges that workers must grind smooth afterward, but a laser cutter leaves a smooth edge that needs no further work. This saves on time and labor cost, making this technology a cut above. It was michelangelo who once said, "every block of stone has a statue inside it, and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it". Centuries later, sculptors still chisel by those words, using techniques similar to those used by the brilliant michelangelo so many years ago. A lifelike image emerges from stone, and that well-chiseled look is the result of a lot of planning and posing. The artist first molds the subject in clay, which allows him to capture his impressions quickly. His clay model is the sculpture equivalent of a painter's sketch. Clay also allows him to make changes that would be impossible once carved in stone. When the prototype is complete, the artist is ready to choose a stone. The search leads to this quarry in the hills of northern italy, where they've been extracting white carrara marble for centuries. A long saw on a track makes a horizontal incision in the bottom of the rock face. Once this undercut is complete, the operation moves to the top of the stone. A machine pulls a loop of diamond cable down through the rock to cut the back of the slab. A constant spray of water cools the cable and flushes the cut. When the two cuts intersect, this marble slab is ready to be extracted. Equipment gently tips it onto a soft pile of dirt intact. The supervisor gives the slab a production number and draws lines to indicate how it should be cut to prepare it for sculpting. Once cut down to size, it's into the studio, where it's positioned beside a plaster version of a clay model. With calipers, an artisan measures the proportions of the plaster cast and transfers them to the marble slab. His pencil marks define the main mass and outer limits of the form that's to be sculpted. This artist chips away big chunks of the stone to give the rough size and shape of the plaster model. The penciled measurements ensure that he doesn't chip away too much and destroy the slab. Once the general shape has been achieved, it's time for the detail work. The sculptor measures the plaster prototype with a tool called a pointing machine. He transfers the measurements to the marble sculpture, ensuring that all the details will be to the correct scale. Of course, pointing tools can only show the artist whereto carve-- there's no substitute for skill. With a pneumatic chisel, the artist shapes the foot of the figure. Next, the artist switches to a series of rasps and files, so he can shape the smaller details and eliminate any chisel marks. The fingers require a gentle approach. They're delicate and could be broken easily. It takes about four months for a sculpture to go from the rough form to the finished. And now for the final touches-- he rubs oxalic acid into the marble. This seals it and protects it from stains, but also gives the sculpture a polished look. The result is a translucent effect that gives the sculpture visual depth. Like ghosts in the attic, there's an incredible array of plaster casts on this studio's upper floor. Many of them are replicas of famous classical works. They're all on standby to serve as prototypes for sculptural reproductions. And once these images are carved in stone, they should live on forever.