Decades back, engineers needed a material tougher than regular plastics—something to handle heat on shop floors and inside car engines. Early on, polyamides like PA6 (nylon 6) and polybutylene terephthalate (PBT) filled those roles, but they kept coming up short when sparks or overheating became a real threat. Glass fiber reinforcement started to make a difference in the 1970s, toughening up plastics for demanding spots. Not long after, the push for flame retardancy came in, mostly because industries like electronics and transportation watched too many fires start from one small short circuit. Chemists layered flame retardants into these robust blends, and the formula kept changing with each new safety standard or environmental regulation. Watching this story unfold feels like a lesson every time—no single breakthrough hands you safety and performance. Additives, glass fibers, and trial after trial shaped what’s sitting in circuit breakers and car dashboards today.
Glass fiber PA6 PBT flame retardant acts as more than a menu of ingredients. In practice, this material merges the toughness and abrasion-resistance of glass-reinforced nylons with the heat and chemical resilience of PBT, then piles on compounds to slow fire—usually halogen-based or phosphorus-based systems. You’re looking at a blend that can shrug off impacts, stay rigid under stress, and still resist catching fire if things go south. I’ve seen these materials swapped into power-tool housings and electrical connectors because nothing else could put up with mistakes or neglect that often happen in real-world use. PA6 keeps it strong when things flex or get banged around, and PBT stops moisture or chemicals from eating it alive. With fire-retarding agents, the whole blend aims for UL V-0 or V-2 safety marks—a badge required by every electrical safety code that isn’t just about following rules, but about stopping disasters before they spread.
On any production floor, the physical features show up right away. You get rigidity, but not at the cost of shattering on impact. That comes straight from embedding glass fibers, which average 10% to 40% of total weight, inside the PA6 and PBT matrix. These chopped fibers stiffen up everything, keep creep at bay, and fight off warping if parts get hot. The blend balances a melting point just under 220°C, letting you process it with existing injection molding tools. On the chemical side, both polymers resist most industrial solvents, so oils or cleaners don’t break pieces down season after season. Additives for flame retardancy change surface chemistry, sometimes adding a dusty feel, sometimes making parts harder to recycle because not every flame retardant is benign. Even so, the mix keeps out most sparks, with oxygen index values shooting past 28%—in simple terms, regular atmosphere won’t let it keep burning.
Technical data always matters, especially for downstream users cutting or molding pellets. Typical density runs 1.3 to 1.6 g/cm³, mechanical strengths push past 100 MPa for tensile tests, and the flexural modulus wipes the floor with plain PA6 or PBT. Moisture uptake stays below 1% for most blends, sparing factories from much of the warping that hits cheaper nylons. UL 94 ratings become a badge—V-0 means no flaming drips, V-2 allows a few molten threads but no conflagration. Labels must list glass fiber content, flame retardant agent types if halogen-free is claimed, and often specify which agencies (UL, VDE) have given their nod. RoHS restrictions demand some manufacturers to drop classic brominated retardants for new, less persistent chemicals. Every shipped pellet batch needs a datasheet: melt flow index, recommended molding parameters, and safety notes all live there. Without clear marking, parts risk showing up in the wrong application or failing under load.
Industrial blending happens in big extruders, where PA6 and PBT granules and pulverized flame retardant agents load along with precise amounts of pre-treated glass fiber. High shear mixing at upwards of 250°C forces fibers and polymers into close contact, while vented zones drive off any volatile byproducts. Cooling happens fast to lock fibers into place. I’ve watched lines where anti-static agents, colorants, and processing aids join in, each batch tailored with precision to stop clogging or uneven dispersion. Screw speed, temperature, and feed timing matter just as much as the recipe—mess up one variable, and fibers clump or retardant agents degrade, leaving chunks that later spark during use. The process looks brutal, but the output flows as even, glassy pellets ready for molding. Granules arrive bagged and moisture-controlled, factory-fresh, because even a small slip in prep leaves brittle or unsafe parts.
Chasing performance means tweaking more than temperature and pressure. Chemists graft reactive end groups onto PA6 or PBT backbones, making sure flame retardant particles bind instead of acting like sand suspended in oil. You see synergists—antimony trioxide, magnesium hydroxide—alongside phosphorus compounds or melamine derivatives. These react with the polymer during fires, creating char layers that stifle flames and block oxygen. Some recipes move away from halogens because of toxic smoke and focus on nitrogen-based systems that decompose less nastily. Each step tries to hike up limiting oxygen index or stop afterglow—any after-flame is a risk factor in a real fire. Modifiers sometimes change how the blend processes, so I've seen factories trade off a few points of mechanical strength for major leaps in flame rating or drop toughening agents in to make up for lost resilience. The chemistry moves fast because so do the regulations and safety targets.
On datasheets or in catalogs, blends appear under branded banners like Ultramid, Celanex, or Durafide, carrying internal codes for glass content or flame system. Chemical shorthand—GF-reinforced, FR (flame retardant), PA6/PBT alloys—pop up in tech specs. Some vendors push halogen-free or eco-labels, featuring names that shout up green credentials, but behind every label, a careful inspection of the resin code tells the real story. In practice, shop techs know their go-to blends by color and feel as much as by the official names, since one supplier’s ‘FR’ pellet won't always behave like another’s under the same injection conditions.
From first batch to finished part, workers watch safety rules since glass fiber dust and fine flame retardant powders kick up in blending and molding. Factory air systems suck out particulates, and dust masks go on by habit, not just training. Labels warn against overheating, since some additives decompose to toxic gases if things run out of spec. UL 94 and IEC 60695 testing becomes routine—sample bars burned, drips measured, time to self-extinguish written on the wall before any batch goes out. Shops keep strict controls on residence time in hoppers and mold barrels to avoid breakdown, since every shortcut tempts fate with hidden brittleness or untested off-gassing. Safety data sheets detail every hazard, from skin contact with raw glass fiber to chronic risks from inhaled particles. End-users checking electrical cabinets or car interiors won’t always see these hazards, but the chain of custody from resin bag to final assembly keeps the risk in check through labeling, training, and responsible recycling.
Glass fiber PA6 PBT flame retardant blends end up in places where a fire could mean disaster. Electrical connectors, relay bases, switch housings, and circuit breakers line up as prime uses, since any loose wire or overheating part might throw a spark. Appliances—coffee makers, washing machine parts, vacuum motor housings—need the same defense, both to cut insurance claims and keep international certifications. Automotive engineers order these resins for fuse boxes or headlamp backplates, knowing that an engine compartment reaches heat and vibration levels no other polymer blend survives. In telecom, patch panels and server casings rely on this material both for mechanical stability and to meet fire codes in crowded data centers. The number of applications keeps growing as safety standards pull previously metal or ceramic components into the plastics space, with glass fiber PA6 PBT holding down spots that once looked too risky.
Every R&D meeting tracks two main goals: outlast fire longer and sharpen sustainability. Traditional flame retardants, mostly brominated aromatics, face mounting bans and social pressure, so the lab crowd chases novel phosphorus and nitrogen systems. Many teams now work with clay and graphite nanofillers, not just glass fiber, building micro-barriers that smother flames even faster and cut the total load of additives. Over the past decade, competitive pressure pushed materials science firms to plug recycled glass fibers and post-consumer polyamide or PBT back into new blends, chasing both regulatory compliance and share in the eco-friendly market. Analytical chemists invent new spectroscopic and mechanical tests to pick up minor changes in flame response, since real-life failures usually come from one-off scenarios, not textbook conditions. I’ve seen project leads pore over scanning electron microscope images of fracture faces and char residues, hunting for clues to why a prototype snapped or smoldered instead of extinguishing itself.
The fire retardants that work best often attract the harshest scrutiny. Brominated and chlorinated compounds have stubborn persistence, showing up in groundwater and animal tissues even where plastics get recycled or landfilled. Research into human exposure covers not just dust inhaled on the job, but off-gassing from consumer products sitting in living rooms or cars parked outside. Newer phosphorus-based retardants boast a better track record in terms of breakdown, but nobody trusts a new additive until chronic and acute risk profiles clear multiple agencies. Glass fibers themselves fail to show cancer links at exposure levels common on factory floors, but chronic irritation keeps protective equipment as a daily must. Environmental toxicologists and occupational health monitors review every raw ingredient, keeping a running tally of safe thresholds, recommended ventilation rates, and end-of-life disposal plans. I’ve seen regulatory filings stretch over years, only for a new study or high-profile recall to send the industry searching for cleaner alternatives yet again.
Industry asks for lighter, safer, and greener compounds every year. Consumer electronics companies want flame retardant resin that cuts weight for thinner devices yet meets fire codes in every country where they're sold. Automakers push for lead-free, recyclable blends that still take engine heat and crash forces. R&D teams are betting that the next big step won’t just be a new retardant molecule but complete shifts in how glass fibers and polymers interact—maybe using bio-based PA6, maybe tuning glass chemistry to help resins bond even better. Pressure from governments and watchdog groups keeps the quest alive for halogen-free, low-smoke additives that keep toxic risks off the table. The path forward gets shaped by big changes in the regulatory map, next-gen recycling technology, and shifts in global supply chains. Blend-makers realize durability only counts if you can take the material apart or burn it cleanly later on. Over time, competition between greener chemistry, fire testing, and customer demand keeps the best R&D groups stretched thin, hunting for the edge that keeps products safe and recoverable, not just for one life cycle but across decades of use and reuse.
Most homes and workplaces run on a web of wires and boxes, carrying power where it’s needed. Plastic isn’t just a wrapping—these plastics have a tough job: stop fires before they start. Glass fiber PA6 PBT flame retardant steps up, used in switch housings, connector blocks, fuse boxes, and relay parts. If you’ve ever peeked inside a modern circuit board, those sturdy, gray sockets and covered power switches often owe their strength to mixtures like this.
Electrical safety isn’t just about insulation. Old-fashioned plastics can melt or catch fire if there’s a short circuit. In contrast, flame retardant types slow down the flames or put up a wall, buying precious seconds to cut off power or save equipment. Think about factory settings, too—automation lines and large distribution panels all rely on these materials to prevent disaster if a spark or surge appears.
These blends also end up in cars, trucks, and even e-vehicles. Under the hood and behind dashboards, automakers need both strength and fire resistance. Battery modules, electrical junctions, fuse boxes, sensor cases, and even connectors attached to engine parts deal with high loads, friction, and sudden bursts of heat. From personal experience working on rewiring older cars, using old-school plastics meant nerves every time the engine got hot. With these modern blends, there’s less worry, especially with the high electrical loads common in new EV tech.
There’s a reason big auto brands switched over. Plastic that doesn’t ignite easily matters a lot for passenger safety. Even small connectors behind seat heaters or touch screens could spell trouble if they fail in a fire. The glass fibers also make these plastics stiffer and cut down on warping, especially when clamped tight inside a car body or under vibrations.
Factories pack their machines with control panels, motor housings, terminal blocks, and gear covers. Each of those parts jostles with voltage and friction. Glass fiber PA6 PBT flame retardant brings not just protection—these parts last longer, don’t crack under stress, and can take some abuse. From CNC machines to massive HVAC units, designers look for materials that tick the boxes for flame safety and toughness.
The story carries into homes, too. Coffee machines, washing machines, and induction cooktop housings can all develop dangerous faults over years of use. I’ve seen melted power bricks and scorched microwave plug covers—switching to flame-retardant blends means these things avoid turning a simple fault into an emergency. People might not notice, but these plastics give an extra layer of safety and keep repairs simple if problems pop up.
Trains, planes, and servers—anywhere tight electrical spaces and lots of connections come together—benefit from flame-retardant, glass-reinforced plastics. Hospitals need reliable, non-flammable plastics for patient monitors and beds. Companies focus on recycling and safer chemistries, trying to cut toxins from old flame retardants. There’s plenty of work ahead to balance safety, recycling, and cutting back on chemical risks, but the need for tough, flame-resistant plastics keeps growing.
Growing up, I remember my dad always checked for all sorts of labels on things he brought into the house—from smoke alarms to the very couch we sat on. It turns out, that habit makes sense. Fire doesn’t give warnings, and no one thinks it’ll happen to them until it does. Materials in our homes, offices, and schools either slow fire down or add to the problem. Folks started looking for those little tags and certification stamps because somewhere along the line, regulations and smart building codes pushed for safer materials. It’s not really about some dusty paperwork; it’s about keeping people out of harm’s way.
You’ll hear terms like UL 94, NFPA 701, or ASTM E84 tossed around. Sometimes they mean a product won’t catch fire as easily, other times they show how smoke and toxic gases behave when something starts burning. UL 94, for example, splits plastics into categories based on how fast they burn or whether they melt and drip. V-0 is the top tier, signaling a real struggle for flames to keep moving. The NFPA 701 often pops up for textiles, showing how curtains or upholstery hold up under fire, which matters quite a bit in schools, hotels, and hospitals where escape isn’t always easy.
Seeing one of these certifications doesn’t guarantee a miracle, but it shifts odds in your favor. Actual stories bear this out—fire in an office outfitted with properly certified panels often means more time to react and less chaos as folks head for the exits.
The flame retardant issue isn’t about rare lab scenarios; it hits home in real spaces. Buses, airplanes, kids’ pajamas, and office furniture use rated materials for a reason. Take electrical wires. The older ones in my uncle’s house started shorting and sparking. After switching to wires with better sheathing and V-0 plastics, the peace of mind was immediate. Factories, especially those with flammable dust, hunt for tested building panels and sealants to avoid quick flashover if a spark jumps loose.
Not everything in the store with a flame symbol truly stands up in a real blaze. Loopholes exist. Sometimes products carry a certification based on an old batch or only part of the material passed the test. Manufacturers have sometimes cut corners under pressure to keep prices low, especially in fast-growing industries. There’s also an ongoing debate about the safety of certain flame retardant chemicals—trouble crops up when long-term exposure poses health risks, especially if those chemicals leach out over time.
No one likes reading the fine print, but consumers, builders, and even school administrators have plenty of power. Insisting manufacturers show actual documentation and third-party lab results keeps things honest. Pushing local representatives to tighten and update fire codes, taking cues from places like California or Europe, often keeps the worst materials out of circulation. There’s growing momentum for companies to shift toward safer, less toxic flame retardants—boron compounds, certain mineral coatings, and clever fabric architectures cut down fire’s spread without flooding rooms with noxious fumes.
People deserve spaces that don’t go up in smoke before they can get out. Wanting real flame retardant performance isn’t picky; it’s about everyday safety.
Walk into any workshop or manufacturing plant, and there’s a good chance someone’s talking about two things: how strong a material is, and how well it can take a punch. Most folks use the terms tensile strength and impact resistance. Whether you’re building a bridge or making kitchen gadgets, these properties could be the difference between something lasting for decades or failing after a few months.
Tensile strength is all about how much a material can stretch before it snaps. Think back to playing tug-of-war as a kid. You knew the thick rope wasn't going to break, but a thin string? Not a chance. Engineers rely on numbers here—steel, for instance, can take a lot more pulling than wood or plastic. That’s why you see steel rebar in concrete. The numbers behind these properties come from lab tests. A cable holding up a suspension bridge or the bolts in your car’s seat belt harness all hinge on having high tensile strength, or folks get hurt.
Personal experience taught me a tough lesson about what low tensile strength means. During an old summer job, I watched a bolt shear off under load while changing a tire on a heavy farm vehicle. We had used a cheaper replacement. It cost us a day’s work fixing things that broke, because one small piece couldn’t take the strain. Shortcuts here create bigger headaches, and sometimes real danger.
Now, impact resistance isn’t about slow, steady pulling—this one’s all about sudden force. Imagine dropping a glass on a concrete floor. If it’s the wrong kind of glass, it shatters. Materials like polycarbonate—think airplane windows or safety goggles—bend or flex instead of breaking. I've replaced enough cheap plastic covers on tools to know: if the material can’t handle a fall from the workbench, it’s destined for the trash can.
Sports gear shows another side of this story. A mountain biking helmet may not flex much when pulled, but it has to survive rocks and trees striking it at speed. Researchers will actually hit test samples with hammers to see if they split or crack. Numbers on a lab report turn into real-world safety.
Choosing between strong and tough doesn’t always come easy—car bumpers, for instance, need both. A car frame engineered to stretch too easily in a crash suddenly crumples instead of protecting passengers. Toughened steel and advanced plastics offer answers, but the balance needs careful attention.
Poor choices often mean wasted money and disappointment. Products fail, bridges close, sometimes lives end up at risk. Not all materials offer both high strength and impact toughness. Alloying, heat treatments, and fiber reinforcements help boost performance, but you must pay for those gains in weight or cost. It’s not just about picking what’s strongest. Sometimes, understanding what the job actually asks for—from playgrounds to power tools—makes the difference.
There’s no magic bullet, but experience counts. Better training for workers helps, along with sharing failure stories so others don’t repeat costly mistakes. New testing methods, like real-time monitoring or advanced simulations, spot flaws before materials get used. Designers can also look for ways to combine properties: hybrid materials or protective coatings can turn something fragile into something reliable. Everyone benefits when we trade shortcuts for a deeper look at what makes materials tick.
Most people never think about what’s in the plastics or metal finishes that end up in a phone, a teapot, or a child’s toy. Engineers and buyers lose sleep over it, though. If you sell parts inside the European Union, someone will ask if that part passes RoHS or REACH rules. Maybe they’ll send you a spreadsheet, a certificate for “substance compliance,” or a long, confusing statement from a supplier you barely know.
Plenty of companies slap a RoHS logo on a spec sheet, but this means little if no one has checked the chemistry or the paperwork. RoHS bans a handful of substances, stopping lead, mercury, cadmium, and a few others from showing up in products above strict limits. REACH adds more rules. It lists thousands of chemicals—some well known, others nearly impossible to pronounce—that shouldn’t end up in products headed for Europe.
I’ve worked with factories in three countries. Many times I’ve seen sales teams promise compliance without a single test report to back it up. Once, I watched a buyer dig up ten signed promises from polymer suppliers, only to find a batch of connectors still failed the REACH screening for phthalates. A printout from a supplier in Asia rarely tells the whole story.
Rules like RoHS and REACH came from real disasters. The EU saw landfills swelling with electronics and worried about heavy metals leaching into water. Kids lived near old dumps filled with battery acid and broken tube TVs. Health scares drove lawmakers to start pushing back against toxic substances.
Even small amounts of forbidden chemicals cause headaches. A company shipping non-compliant phone chargers across Europe risks a costly recall, fines, or getting banned from big retailers. That’s not just red tape; it throws people out of work and dumps unsellable stock in warehouses. A single missed contaminant can ruin months of planning.
Trusting suppliers without proof leaves a risky gap. Most companies work through long chains of vendors. An electronics assembler buys wire from a wholesaler, who gets it from someone else, who buys plastic resin from a chemical plant. Somewhere along the line, a banned chemical can sneak in, sometimes as a cheap colorant or plasticizer. Testing every batch sounds good, but labs charge by the sample, and it takes weeks to get results back.
Real compliance means more than waving certificates around. A factory that keeps careful production records and tests incoming materials will spot problems early. In my experience, solid partnerships with a handful of trusted suppliers work far better than chasing the lowest price every time.
Buyers face an endless stream of certificates. It helps to audit suppliers or use third-party labs for spot checks. Some brands fund Supplier Code of Conduct training, so factory managers understand the real risks of cheating the system. Digital tracking is making small steps forward: more companies now use traceable barcodes and blockchain records. This won’t solve every problem, but it tracks which mixers and molds touch which products.
Asking if a material is RoHS or REACH compliant isn’t just a box to check. It keeps poison out of the supply chain, protects workers, and builds trust. If more people demanded real answers and did some digging, fewer bad surprises would show up in stores, and waste would go down.
Anyone who’s dealt with electrical work, from powering up a worn-out radio to fixing a kitchen blender, knows materials make all the difference. At home, one failed wire or cracked circuit board puts everything on hold. The people making electronic gadgets, big and small, care deeply about what their products are made out of, because a missed detail often ends with something overheating, shorting out, or just plain dying in the middle of the day.
We all interact with electronics daily. The reliability of our phones, laptops, even the coffee machine on a groggy morning depend on materials doing what they’re supposed to do. One bad product choice, and you end up with devices failing at the worst times. Fires break out from poor insulation. Surges cook sensitive chips. Cities lose power over a tiny connector that corroded just a little too fast. So, every material gets questioned: can it handle heat, will it stop electricity from going where it shouldn’t, can it shrug off moisture and not crumble under pressure?
I’ve worked with plenty of components over the years. In one shop, we tried switching to a new, cheaper insulation for wiring. It looked fine on paper, passed the short tests, and saved a few dollars. A few months later, we saw wires breaking down inside switch boxes. The insulation would turn brittle at ordinary room temperatures. We lost time, money, and trust fixing the mess because we didn’t push the supplier hard enough on exactly what their material could handle.
Later, I took apart old electronics for repairs and noticed which plastics turned yellow and cracked, which solder joints grew fuzzy green mold, which coatings kept dust out year after year. The lesson stuck: materials that can’t stand up to small daily stresses never hold up in real use.
Materials for electrical and electronic parts get more scrutiny than most people realize. Take thermoplastics: only some grades prevent current from sneaking through, and efficient insulators like PTFE or polycarbonate end up everywhere for that reason. Metals bring their own headaches. Pure copper works well until corrosion sets in — and suddenly, signals drop or circuits burn out. Even solder can spell trouble; lead-tin mixtures have been the standard for years, but many electronics now use lead-free blends for safety and regulatory reasons. With every change, somebody tests and retests these materials for heat, conductivity, and durability.
The best way forward asks for more than just ticking a box from a data sheet. Talking to manufacturers, some engineers visit factories. They ask awkward questions, request samples, run their own tests. They stick parts in ovens, zap them with static, dunk them in water, shake them for hours. Sometimes, sending one prototype to a field tech teaches more than a lab full of reports. End-users, too, make their voices heard by reporting breakdowns, pushing for recalls, or praising gear that keeps working, year in and year out.
When it comes down to it, picking the right product for electronics isn’t about shortcuts. It’s about remembering what happens if something fails, and caring enough to get it right before everyone else has to deal with the fallout.
| Names | |
| Preferred IUPAC name | poly[imino(1-oxohexamethylene)]-alt-[oxy(1-oxo-1,4-butanediyl)] fiber, flame-retarded |
| Other names |
PA6/PBT GF FR Flame Retardant Glass Fiber Reinforced Polyamide 6/Polybutylene Terephthalate Glass Fiber Reinforced PA6/PBT FR PA6/PBT GF V-0 Flame Retardant PA6/PBT GF PA6/PBT Glass Fiber Flame Retardant |
| Pronunciation | /ɡlɑːs ˈfaɪ.bər piː eɪ sɪks piː biː tiː fleɪm rɪˈtɑː.dənt/ |
| Identifiers | |
| CAS Number | 24938-07-8 |
| Beilstein Reference | 1599001 |
| ChEBI | CHEBI:53436 |
| ChEMBL | CHEMBL2108708 |
| DrugBank | DB15382 |
| ECHA InfoCard | ECHA InfoCard: 03cead0d-b7a8-4b02-aec8-847b9e5a2061 |
| EC Number | EC 618-646-0 |
| Gmelin Reference | Gmelin Reference: 827930 |
| KEGG | KEGG:C22180 |
| MeSH | D005778 |
| PubChem CID | 17831663 |
| RTECS number | VX8200000 |
| UNII | 43PL9J3A8V |
| UN number | UN3077 |
| CompTox Dashboard (EPA) | CompTox Dashboard (EPA) of product 'Glass Fiber PA6 PBT Flame Retardant': DTXSID7020182 |
| Properties | |
| Chemical formula | (C2H4O)n·(C12H12N2O2)x·(SiO2)y·[FR] |
| Appearance | Light grey granules |
| Odor | Odorless |
| Density | 1.42 g/cm³ |
| Solubility in water | Insoluble |
| log P | 2.8 |
| Basicity (pKb) | 6.24 |
| Magnetic susceptibility (χ) | Diamagnetic |
| Refractive index (nD) | 1.55 |
| Viscosity | Viscosity: 60-120 Pa·s |
| Dipole moment | 1.14 D |
| Thermochemistry | |
| Std enthalpy of formation (ΔfH⦵298) | -5.12 kJ/mol |
| Std enthalpy of combustion (ΔcH⦵298) | -16.43 MJ/kg |
| Hazards | |
| Main hazards | Causes skin irritation. Causes serious eye irritation. May cause respiratory irritation. |
| GHS labelling | GHS07,GHS09 |
| Pictograms | GHS07,GHS09 |
| Signal word | Warning |
| Hazard statements | H317: May cause an allergic skin reaction. H319: Causes serious eye irritation. H351: Suspected of causing cancer. |
| Precautionary statements | P261, P264, P271, P272, P273, P280, P302+P352, P305+P351+P338, P308+P313, P333+P313, P362+P364, P501 |
| Flash point | > 300°C |
| Autoignition temperature | 450°C |
| LD50 (median dose) | > 5000 mg/kg (rat) |
| NIOSH | TC-84A-8448 |
| PEL (Permissible) | 50 mppcf or 1 fiber/cc |
| REL (Recommended) | 0.28 |
| Related compounds | |
| Related compounds |
Glass Fiber PA6 Glass Fiber PBT Flame Retardant PA6 Flame Retardant PBT Glass Fiber Reinforced Nylon Glass Fiber Reinforced Polyester PA6 GF PBT GF Halogen-Free Flame Retardant PA6 Halogen-Free Flame Retardant PBT |
