I hate Lynchburg

I don't hate Richmond. I hate Lynchburg. Just the dreadful, hateful, history-drenched name for this awful, dogshit town. I hate that we have to stop here, listen to that ugly name be utterred, and sit and wait for the nicotine addicts to do their thing, which usually involves carelessly flicking their cigarettes high off the Lynchburg platform where they land on a walkway below where, who knows, maybe somebody's kids may be walking, before they re-board the bus now that their clothes reek of smoke and are just as capable of spreading that horrible smell inside the bus as if they hadn't even bothered to step out into the Lynchburg air. I hate Lynchburg.