Leather Wallets French Horns Soy Sauce Children's Ride
The pocket wallet was invented in the 17th century. Europe had switched to paper money, and the gents of the day needed a handy way to pocket their cash. There's a slot for everything-- credit cards, i.d., and, of course, cash. And yet these wallets remain slim enough to fit into a trouser pocket. These fine handcrafted pocketbooks are made from high-grade vegetable-tanned leather. An employee selects a hide and arranges it on a work table. Then he chooses a die shaped like one of the wallet's inside pockets. Using this hydraulic press, he punches out the part. He cuts 11 different components for the wallet's interior, using a custom die for each one. He chooses tougher leather in a contrasting color for the wallet's exterior. He now measures the thickness of the interior components. Using what's called a skiving machine, he shaves them down to . 7 of a millimeter. Another worker preheats an embossing machine. It hot-stamps a pocket part with the company name and the royal warrant logo, which signifies that the prince of wales purchases this company's leather goods. Using a different skiving machine, they shave down the edges of the exterior wallet parts. This thinner border will make the parts easier to assemble later. The next worker applies a water-based adhesive to a leather strip. It will reinforce the top of a fabric square. With this manual device, she turns the top edge to fold it in a straight line. This leather-trimmed fabric square will be used to create a credit-card pocket. She stamps a thin groove onto the leather trim to give it some definition. Next, she builds a credit-card slot with two of the squares. Using an awl, she scores a line in the fabric. The line serves as a guide as she stitches the squares together to complete the slot. She layers a third leather-trimmed block of fabric to create a second slot, then adds a leather panel that forms the third credit-card slot. She glues and tucks the excess leather over the back of the fabric pocket. Then she checks the alignment of the slots with a tool called a bone folder. The next worker sews the credit-card compartment together. There are two of these per wallet. They glue both compartments to the wallet's spine made of fabric and leather. This spine is called the bend section, because it bends to fold the wallet in two. She attaches the bend section to a divider for the money pocket. This divider is a bit longer than the assembled interior components, to facilitate the bending action. She glues a lining to the wallet's leather exterior. Here, she uses a special hammer to ensure the interior and exterior components of this wallet adhere well. Then she trims the corner of the rim to make it look neat. She rounds the corners of the wallet to give them a gentler profile. Now she stitches the assembly together, leaving the bill pocket open at the top. The next worker tucks a metal wedge under the rim to protect the rest of the wallet as she trims the rim close to the stitch. Removing these few slivers will make the wallet more flexible. She slides the bone folder into each credit-card slot to remove excess glue. Finally, a few dabs of leather preservative, and this luxury wallet is ready for retail with a price tag to match. The only question is, will that be cash or credit? The french horn has a four-octave range and distinctive mellow sound. As with other brass instruments, the musician plays certain valve combinations and alters lip tension to produce the right notes. However, on a french horn, the mouthpiece is relatively small, making this instrument one of the most challenging to play. The french horn is made up of 13 feet of coiled tubing, a set of valves, and a flared bell. To make the tail end, they shape a sheet of brass around a steel mandrel, then braze the edges together to form a tube. With a burnishing tool, an artisan rounds out the shape. Next, they lubricate a brass disk as it spins on a lathe. Using a variety of tools, they shape it into a bell. This plasma-weld machine fuses the bell and tail together. Back on the lathe, they trim the diameter of the bell... Then roll the edge into a rim called a bead. This reinforces the bell. Next, they fill the bell with a hot, tar-like liquid called pitch. Once the pitch cools, they put the tail into a forming block and carefully bend it. The hardened pitch provides support, preventing the tail from collapsing. They verify the bend against a template. Using the same technique, they shape the pieces that form the horn's tubing. Of all the brass instruments, the french horn has the most complex bends. These valve knuckles connect the tubes to the cases that will house the valves. Some french horns have three valves. This double french horn has four. Each valve case goes onto this alignment device, which pushes in the knuckles to the correct depth. After brazing the knuckles to the cases, they hollow out the case interiors with a cutter. Then they solder the valve cases to each other with connecting rings. They insert the tubing parts into the valve knuckles. These curved tubes are the horn's slides. The musician tunes the instrument by adjusting them in and out of the straight tubes. After soldering the straight tubes to the knuckles, they remove the slides for now to make other areas accessible. Then they solder this partially assembled valve section to the tail and bell. Now they apply buffing compound and polish the horn's interior surfaces. They polish the more accessible surfaces with a cloth buffing wheel. Then they wash off the compound and coat the entire surface in a protective lacquer. Now final assembly of the valve section can begin. They install rotors in the valve cases and levers to activate them. Unlike piston valves on a trumpet that move up and down, these valves rotate to direct air flow through specific tubing combinations. A lever connects to each valve via a rod and nylon cord. With the valve section now complete, they reinstall the slides, then do a final wipe-down to remove grease residue and fingerprints. This pristine finish complements the superb sound quality. soy sauce is a staple of asian cuisine, used as both a condiment and cooking ingredient. Its roots are in the seasonings of ancient china. Today, you can buy artificial or chemically enhanced versions, but authentic soy sauce is all-natural and made the traditional way, by brewing soybeans and wheat. At this small soy-sauce company, they use the centuries-old slow-fermentation method and just five ingredients--  soybeans... Water... Wheat... Sea salt... And yeast. They begin by pouring soybeans into a cooking device called a steam kettle. After thoroughly rinsing the soybeans twice, they fill the kettle with water... Then close the lid and boil the beans for four hours. Meanwhile, they pan-roast wheat in a skillet for about 25 minutes. Then they put the roasted wheat through a mill. The mill's steel rollers crack each grain into several pieces. This will enable the yeast to better penetrate the wheat during the fermentation process. When the soybeans are ready, they take them out of the kettle and spread them out in large trays to cool. When the beans cool to 91 degrees fahrenheit, it's time to add the wheat. After mixing everything thoroughly, they sprinkle on yeast and mix again. The ingredient proportions are key and therefore a company secret. To activate the yeast, they transfer the mix to shallow boxes and stack them for about 48 hours in a controlled incubation room. This process generates heat, which rises, so they have to gradually move boxes to lower racks to prevent overheating, which would kill the yeast. For the next stage, they make a brine by mixing fine sea salt with spring water. To give its soy sauce a distinctive taste, this company repurposes bourbon barrels from local distilleries to use as fermentation vessels. Traces of bourbon in the wood permeate the mix as it ferments, imbuing the sauce with a subtle smoky and sweet flavor. After dissolving the sea salt in the spring water, they add the soybean mix, creating a moromi, the japanese word for soybean mash. They blend for a few minutes then seal the barrel and leave it to ferment. For the first six weeks, once daily, they open the barrel and mix the moromi to aerate the gases that build up. This keeps the yeast active and helps develop the flavor. Then, after that, they open and mix just once a week. After 12 long months of fermentation, it's finally ready. They open the barrel and mix one last time. Then they empty the barrel onto a sheet of muslin lining the tub of a stainless-steel press. They fold over the sheet to enclose the moromi... Then lay down planks of wood to form a solid surface. The press applies six tons of pressure, forcing the planks downward against the moromi. This squeezes out all the liquid, which is the soy sauce. It exits through a hose at the base of the tub and moves on to be filtered and heat-pasteurized. The pressed moromi gets a new life as high-protein animal feed. While many soy sauces are mass-produced, this factory brews small batches at a time. A batch yields about 600 bottles, each of which workers here fill manually. They top each bottle with a plastic diffuser, which dispenses just a dash of sauce at a time. Then they twist on a plastic cap and slip a shrinkable plastic band over it. Using a heat gun, they seal the band tightly around the cap and bottle. Then the label, on which they write the batch code and bottle number by hand, a fitting finale for this signature soy sauce. Children's ride-on cars are, quite simply, fun to drive. These molded plastic cars come in hot colors and often have a friendly face on the front. These cars have character, and that's why it's often bumper-to-bumper at the neighborhood playground. There's nothing like that new-car feeling, especially when it's your first set of wheels. Like many toys, the appeal of the ride-on car lies with children's desire to emulate adults. And behind the wheel of their own little vehicles, a child can feel all grown up. Today's child-size coupes are synthetic creations. They start with plastic resin pellets. They mix in chemical additives and recycled plastic and grind it all into a powder. The powder funnels into a shaking sifter, which screens out large pieces the grinder missed. It then flows into a big blender. The plastic powder looks a lot like pastry flour, but not for long. The next ingredient is the colorant. There are various vivid hues to choose from. They pour a measured amount of red colorant into the blender, and a spiraling beater evenly distributes it, turning the white powder to red. They portion it into jugs, which then shuttle down a conveyor. They arrive at a carousel of molds of car shapes. A worker empties the jugs of colored plastic granules into them. These little grains of plastic are about to be transformed into car parts. They lower the lid, which contains the top halves of the molds. The mold cage then spins as it travels through an oven. The plastic inside melts, and the spinning action ensures it completely coats the inside of the molds to create solid parts with a hollow interior. The cage then rolls into a station, where a spray of water cools everything down and causes the plastic inside to solidify. The mold cage stops spinning, and a worker hooks it up to a crane, which lifts the lid. The powdered colored plastic has been transformed into ride-on-car parts, and it's taken just 35 minutes. Some parts fall out, and others have to be pulled out. But it's easy work, thanks to the mold's nonstick surface. Seepage during molding creates unwanted bits and nubs on the main car body that they trim off by hand. They also shave areas that appear uneven. Vents were formed in the molding process to release air in the core of the part. They now cap the vents to keep little fingers from getting stuck inside. They trim the car roof to improve its contours. This also gets rid of any rough edges, making it child-friendly. They fit company medallions into slots in the roof pillars. And they do a bit more trimming to improve the profile of the parts. Drills now work in concert to bore assembly holes into the main part of this coupe. An employee then blasts out the plastic shavings with an air nozzle. He applies a sticker with production information on it... And then does a final inspection. If he's satisfied with the quality, he applies another company logo. Now flames lick the plastic roofs and doors as they briefly torch them. They melt the surface just enough to give it a shiny veneer. At the end of the production line, they pack up all the parts of this children's ride-on car, from the roof pillars... To the tires... To the steering wheel. Everything fits neatly into one package. Then it will be up to mom or dad to assemble all the pieces of this ride-on car. It's a job that should take about 15 minutes or so. Then zoom away--  no driver's license required.