Hogwaller sprawls in the east end of Charlottesville like a permanently out of work brother-in-law crashed out on your sofa. It used to butt up against Monticello Mountain until Interstate 64 severed the intimacy that existed between the high-born and the hoi-polloi. Home to the livestock yards, the sewage treatment plant, a cement factory,a multi-level trailerpark and my friend Roger, Hogwaller is the mnemonic that reminds the gentry that the gutter is only five feet down.

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