The car-carrier hauling four sports cars to the tiny airport takes all afternoon. When he finally reaches the top, the driver’s shirt is off, sweat drizzling down his ample belly like a pork shoulder slow roasting at Extra Billy’s Barbecue. Curses spill from his snarl.

As the 300-pound man angrily unloads the cars, a 300-pound black bear roams one end of the runway, watching us warily. Planes landing here often buzz the runway first to scare of deer, bears or coyotes. In the opposite direction, a coyote tests the system, avoiding the bear and us. Deer sneak along the tall grass at the drop off into the valley towards Hot Springs.

We are here to put cars on HD for the Virginia Lottery’s Muscle Car Money. Later we will slice the images into 45-second, 30-second, 15-second and 5-second commercials riding on top of grinding, thumping drums and guitars.

The next morning, a yellow Camaro SS, charcoal Mustang GT, screaming red Challenger RT Hemi and a deep gray Charger RT Hemi line up facing the ceramic blue sky punctuated by clouds shaped like buttermilk drop-biscuits. Cameras aim at an S-curve in front of them.

These cars don’t just look fast. They are fast. Hundreds of horses hide under Detroit steel carved into retro sheet metal bringing back retro memories for anyone who lived in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s.  The Camaro and Challenger turn heads. The Mustang turns wicked lap times. The Charger sits alone in this bunch, like a pimply boy at an eighth grade dance, it’s sporty pedigree diminished by four doors and a police car reputation. But even as the 4^th wheel at a three-wheel roundup, it growls like an angry colon after bean dip and beer.

Tattooed crew – some wearing headbands, all carrying grip tools – mount high-def Canon 5D cameras with expensive lenses to hot, metal roofs and shiny fenders. One by one, the cars peel across the tarmac toward the runway looking for the perfect shot. Inside, some of the cams point at tachs, some at shifters, some at steering wheels. A large cinema camera called a Red is bolted to the rear of a Ford F-250. In its lens, muscle cars blow past, dropping back, then blow past again, over and over until it is exactly the way the director wants it. This dance goes on for two days.

The Challenger chases the camera truck over a slight arch in the runway that ripples the horizon. Out of sight, we hear tires screaming and gears shifting and V-8’s oiling cams and cylinders. Next the Mustang gets its turn in the barrel followed by the Camaro and Charger. It is a thing to behold.

This is a guy’s shoot. It is car porn, starring wicked RPM’s, sucking every guy’s metal dream into its exhaust-flavored vortex. These cars are designed to touch that reptilian part of a male’s brainstem housing the internal combustion engine. The rest of a guy is not much else but worthless decoration. That little spot between a man’s ears, however, is the driver’s seat. Muscle cars live here, not on the road. And today, our inner reptiles are smiling.

Virginia Lottery Muscle Car Money Behind the Scenes