Bamboo Bicycles Chainsaw Art Breath Mints Manual Motorcycle Transmissions
The bamboo bicycle was invented in england in the 19th century, and the idea never really went anywhere until now. The modern bamboo bicycle is a highly engineered piece of work-- one that takes advantage of bamboo's steely sturdiness and its ability to absorb vibrations. At a time when bicycles are often made of high-tech carbon fiber and exotic alloys, the bamboo bike takes things in a whole new direction. Bamboo cane is a grass that's incredibly sturdy. And because it's fast-growing, a bicycle made from it is as green as it gets. The frame builder starts with the strongest species of bamboo. Each cane is scrutinized to confirm that it's perfectly straight and structurally sound. He measures and marks each one to a precise length. To avoid fraying the edges or splitting exterior fibers, he makes the cuts slowly. He smoothes the freshly cut ends against a drum sander and tapers them a bit to fit into steel joints. Once satisfied with the fit, he removes the bamboo canes from the steel joints. He sprays an acetone cleaning solution into the joints and then scrubs with a wire brush to prepare them for bonding to the bamboo canes. A total of five steel joints will hold the bamboo bicycle frame together. It's now time for the assembly. He probes the cavity of each bamboo cane to confirm there are no obstructions and to determine how far inside to insert a foam plug. This plug will prevent adhesive from running through the entire cane during bonding. Using a long syringe, he injects fast-setting epoxy adhesive into the cane. This seals the plug to the inside wall of the bamboo cane. Once plugs have been installed in all the canes, he snakes plastic tubing through the steel joints and caulks the gaps. This tubing is a delivery system for the next application of epoxy adhesive that will seal the steel joints to the bamboo framework. With the plastic tubing now installed in all the steel joints, he reassembles the bamboo bicycle frame and double-checks the geometry. This is known as the dry fit. It's one last chance to perfect the fit at the joints. He'll sand the ends of the bamboo or even cut a new cane, if needed. Most frames need at least a little tweaking at this stage. Once it's just right, he secures the bike frame in a jig. He inserts a bit of epoxy putty between the bamboo cane and the steel joint. It acts as a shim to center the cane in the fitting. He then wraps electrical tape around the gaps where the steel joints meet the bamboo canes. This tape is low-tack, so it won't pull up bamboo fibers when it's removed. Yet the seal is strong enough to keep epoxy adhesive from dripping out as he now injects it into one of the joints. He cuts a tiny slit in the tape to monitor the flow. And when epoxy starts to leak out, he knows there's enough for a full bond. He tapes up the slit to close off the overflow and clamps the end of the plastic tubing with a clothespin. He injects epoxy into all five joints. Once all the gaps have been filled, he leaves the assembly to dry. 12 hours later, he unbinds the joints. They're now solidly fused to the bamboo to hold the frame together. The plastic tubing has also bonded to the inside of the joints. He just cuts the ends. He grinds off the excess epoxy for a smoother transition from the steel to the bamboo. Once the bike frame has been cleaned and engraved with the brand name, he stains the bamboo with a polyurethane finish. This seals the pores of the bamboo against water damage and enhances the texture of the woody fibers. He paints the joints with automotive-quality paint, and it's ready for a set of wheels. This bamboo bicycle frame has been 40 hours in the making. As an eco-friendly mode of transportation, it should be a trailblazer. When the motorized chainsaw came on the scene in the 1920s, it revolutionized the forestry industry. From then on, it was only a matter of time before some creative lumberjacks started logging extra time with their trusty tool, using the chainsaw like a sculptor's chisel or a painter's brush. These chainsaw sculptures run the gamut from cartoonlike characters to realistic reproductions of wildlife. This artistic endeavor does come with significant risk. One wrong move with the chainsaw can cause serious injury or worse. At the request of landowners and governments, this particular logger artist cuts down bug wood-- pine trees killed by mountain pine beetles. Brandishing a chainsaw with a 16-inch blade, he'll transform this log into a turkey. The first cut forms a higher back, which will eventually become the tail feathers. The second cut establishes the top of the head. Then, he cuts away wood in between to begin shaping the body. He removes wood from the front to begin forming the turkey's beard and breast. Then, he removes wood from the sides to shape the wings. As this is a turkey in a strutting pose, the wings are thrusting downward. After shaping the breast further and carving the feet, he puts down the chainsaw, picks up a pencil, and outlines 19 tail feathers. Then, he gently carves his lines with the tip of the chainsaw. He also carves the outlines of the feathers located under the tail feathers. Then, using the tip ever so lightly, he makes delicate lines inside each feather. The rough shape now complete, he begins working on the finer details, such as sculpting each wing feather. Then, he carves some even finer details with a die grinder-- a tool which takes interchangeable bits. He uses a cone-shaped bit to carve the turkey's toes, then a sanding disk to proportion the breast, then a small wheel to carve the lower breast feathers. Now he tackles the snood-- that flap of skin over the turkey's beak. He makes it curved, rather than hanging straight down, to make the turkey look as though it's moving. To craft the eyes, he uses a tool he rigged up himself by attaching a modified bolt to a die grinder. The eyes are the artistic turning point. They add the first hint of facial expression. Using the cone-shaped bit again, the artist shaves off wood underneath the eyes so they'll protrude somewhat. Then, using a variety of bits, he does some touch-ups on the snood and sculpts the sac of skin under the turkey's neck. Then, he takes the eye tool again, but this time to brand little circles on the skin sac, to give it a realistic texture. With the carving now complete, the burning begins. Using a small gas torch, he scorches the wood. The raised area becomes darker than the recessed areas, giving the feathers contrast and depth. The last step is some finer, detailed texturing. He attaches a soft wire brush to a drill and smoothes out the tips of the feathers. He coats the finished carving in a sealer-- a homemade concoction of equal parts mineral spirits, heavy-duty marine varnish, and boiled linseed oil. This sealer gives the surface a rich, semigloss luster. But, more importantly, it protects the wood against the elements, which is critical, given that these carvings are usually displayed outdoors. This specially designed sealant is the key to the longevity of these carvings. It forms a suit of armor against precipitation and the sun's ultraviolet rays, yet the sealant isn't an airtight shield. It still lets the wood breathe, which is critical for preventing mold growth. It's also flexible, moving with the natural expansion and contraction of the wood. An inflexible sealant would crack, letting water seep in. This durable, protective finish makes the chainsaw-carved statue not only a statement piece but also an investment piece. Bad breath can ruin your social life, but suck on a mint, and you'll be breathing a sigh of relief. Mint candies were first introduced in britain in 1790 and were initially used to soothe indigestion. Later, their breath-freshening qualities were discovered, and they became known as breath mints. Out of consideration for their costars, actors often suck on a mint or two before shooting a romantic scene. Bad breath can be a real scene-spoiler in the movies and in everyday life. They make these tablet-style mints in various colors and flavors. For a lime-flavored mint, ingredients include sorbitol-- a sugar-free sweetener-- magnesium stearate, which acts as a binder, and lime oil for that refreshing flavor. They load measured amounts of the ingredients into a v-shaped blender. They'll be producing a 300-pound batch that will yield 600,000 mints. That green stuff is a premix of color and oil. He screws the lid tightly onto the blender. It tumbles the ingredients for 45 minutes. The magnesium stearate begins to bind the various elements. They then mix blue and yellow pigment to produce a vibrant green one. The pigment is a booster to enhance the green color of the mint and reflect the lime flavor of the candies. After one more spin in the blender, the mixture is ready to be pressed. It flows out of the blender and into a big bin. Once the bin is full, they deliver it to the tablet-pressing machine. Here, they scoop the mix into two hoppers that have sieves on top. The sieves screen out any large clumps. The rest of the mix falls into the rotary tablet press. This is actually the same kind of machine that the pharmaceutical industry uses for making pills. It spins in a blur to punch out 1,800 tablets a minute. They slow the press to a crawl to give us a close-up look. The granulated mixture flows in metered amounts into dies in the rotating wheel. Upper and lower punches meet in the dies to compress the mint-candy ingredients. This fuses the mixture into hard tablets. After the compression, the lower punches rise and eject the candies. The mints and the excess powder fall down a chute. At the actual speed, the machine churns out dozens of mints faster than you can blink an eye. The tablets and all that excess powder now flow into a perforated cylinder. As the cylinder rotates, the powder flies out of the holes and into the trough below. This is known as dedusting. The mint candies, minus most of the excess powder, spill out into a container. Next, the mints ride a revolving table. This is a tablet-counting system. As the mints exit the table, light sensors count out a preset amount of mints for packaging-- in this case, 72 mints. A worker moves tins into position below the hoppers to capture the mints. This kind of tin has been used since the 1920s to contain mints. It has a sliding lid that makes it easy to open. But once closed, it contains them tightly, preventing spillage. Now it's over to the shrink-wrap department. Machinery drops a plastic sleeve onto each tin as it rides by and under a leveling bracket. The tins then travel through an oven, where a blast of heat softens the plastic sleeves, causing them to shrink to the tins. They emerge securely sealed and ready for retail. Today, mints can come in exotic shapes, like these wine-bottle mints. They can be custom-made for any occasion, because, after all, most occasions call for fresh breath. The transmission in a motorcycle multiplies the power coming from the engine to move the bike down the road at faster and faster speeds. The vast majority of motorcycles have a manual transmission, so it's up to the rider to operate a lever to shift into lower or higher gears as required. most manual motorcycle transmissions have a push-button electric starter, but traditionalists still prefer this old-style transmission with a kick starter. The transmission case is made from aluminum that's been extruded to a starting shape. A saw cuts a piece to the case length. Then, a series of computer-guided tools hollow out the inside and bore a pocket to hold the bearing in which the main drive gear turns. The main drive gear is what takes power out of the transmission, ultimately rotating the rear wheel of the motorcycle. Once polished, the transmission case is ready to receive its 100-plus components. Workers assemble the bearing in which the main shaft turns, transferring power from the engine to the transmission. Using a press, they push this bearing into a bearing housing, then bolt it in place, immobilizing the bolt with a few drops of permanent thread-locking fluid. Then, right next to the main shaft bearing, workers bolt the bearing in which the countershaft turns, magnifying and multiplying the power which the main shaft transfers from engine to transmission. They press in a pin which helps accurately position this housing when it comes time to bolt it to the transmission. They apply thread lock to secure the bushing that holds one of two rods for the bike's shift forks. They're what the rider manipulates to move each gear into a predetermined position. They suspend the second rod between the housing and the transmission case. They install the countershaft into the countershaft bearing and lock it in with the press. Next, workers assemble what's known as the gearset. This is a 6-speed transmission, which means there are six gears on the main shaft and six on the countershaft. Each gear is held to its shaft by a high-strength steel retaining ring that's plated with yellow zinc to make it easy to verify that it's in the right position. Workers lubricate the bearings thoroughly to ensure they rotate smoothly around the shafts. Putting the gearset aside for now, they use the press once again-- this time, to install the main drive-gear bearing into the pocket they bore for it in the transmission case. The red disk merely provides a cushion to prevent the press from damaging the component. Next, they press the main drive gear in the bearing. Again, they use the installation disk to cushion the component from the press. They slide the gearset into the transmission case and secure it with nine nuts. They apply semipermanent thread lock to each nut so that they can be unscrewed in the future, should the gearset need to be removed for repair. Meanwhile, a computer-guided mill machines the shift drum out of a super-durable type of steel. The shift drum rotates when the rider shifts gears, moving the gears. After coating it in black oxide to prevent against corrosion, they install it on top of the transmission case. They assemble the kick starter. When the rider kicks it, a series of gears rotates the main shaft inside the transmission. The main shaft is also connected to the engine, so this rotation starts the engine. The kick arm itself is stainless steel. The pedal, bronze. Both types of metal are durable enough to withstand years of kicking and are resistant to corrosion. For demonstration purposes, this transmission case has been cut away to show what happens inside when the rider shifts gears. The shift drum rotates 30 degrees to pull the transmission out of one gear, then another 30 degrees to put it into another-- a perfectly engineered piece of mechanical choreography.