I'm cycling from Gainesville to Lake City on one of the few "safe" roads left in Florida. Suddenly, a red SUV charges at me, the driver blaring her horn and coming within three inches of knocking me off the road and, perhaps, killing me.

"Choose Life," her license plate says.

My resentment wells. She chooses life for the unborn, but not grown humans.

That plate sets me off every time. License plates are for oranges, manatees or the silhouette of our state, not for slogans that offend many citizens. That plate was an early gift from the Jeb Bush administration and the Can't-Do-Nothin'-But-Shaft-the-Public Legislature that happened to adjourn the day before my 350-mile, weeklong bike trip. Our Legislature neglected every major challenge it faced, but still found ways to stick it to us:

Developers got a big bulldozer to run over environmentalists. They also got a green light to build roads giving quick access to the quiet reaches of our state. More access, more land to spoil with development.

Blood-sucking phone companies will suck another $7 a month out of us. Just because they asked.

Public officials get to hide more of what they do while working for us, thanks to new exemptions in the public records law.

Specific individuals get to coast into office, thanks to manipulation of the redistricting process. House Speaker Tom Feeney made sure he got himself a free ride to Congress in the next election. What happened to the Florida where I grew up? When did I become such an outsider? When did our "public servants" drop the last pretense of serving the public?

I cycled to the Ichetucknee River for an afternoon of tubing Florida's most pristine, clear-to-the-bottom river. I used to tube there when I was a kid, and my resentment welled again. Jeb made such a splash canoeing the river and denying the permit to build a cement plant nearby, but when big business balked, he buckled and issued the permit. Said Department of Environmental Protection chief David Struhs: "There was no flip-flop. … When we said "no,' we didn't mean "no, forever.'"

Be you a Democrat, an independent or even some caught-in-the-crossfire Republican, rest assured, you are being frozen out, stiffed and shafted.

The next morning of my vacation, the newspaper featured a detailed analysis of redistricting. More resentment. Nowhere is our disenfranchisement more evident than on the maps so deliberately manipulated to guarantee Republican control long into the future. Political agenda first. Voter intent last.

It's easy to forget that there are 350,000 more registered Democrats than Republicans in Florida, and 1.6-million independent voters. Redistricting now gives Republicans at least 84 of the 120 seats in the Florida House, leaving 36 for the rest of us. Talk about powerless.

How do the Republicans excuse that? They keep saying: Well, when the Democrats were in power, they did it, too.

As though it were something I did.

As though it were an excuse.

As though it were even true. (The Democrats did not stoop this low.)

By splitting and moving Democratic strongholds to GOP-dominated districts, the Republicans have made sure the Broward vote will never threaten another Republican. When it serves Republicans, district boundaries match county lines. When it doesn't, a district may include areas dozens of miles away that have no connection at all. All to ensure and expand the Republican lock on power.

You'll feel the fallout of this for decades if Florida Attorney General Bob Butterworth fails to get the courts to intervene.

The next morning of my trip, I read a story about Jeb declining to speak at the Florida A&M University graduation. Apparently, he expected flak from students at the historically black school. He's dissed minorities for four years, but when it's his turn to get disenfranchised, Jeb just goes elsewhere. It's so easy for him to look the other way.

Those of us who live here and love this state can't just go somewhere else or look the other way. We've already done that, and we are paying.

Riding into Tallahassee at the close of my trip, I felt sad. Florida is so rich, so varied. It is our home. This Capitol used to be a place where people would argue passionately about what was best for all of us. Now, our lawmakers are doing everything to shut down the debate and build an agenda based on connection, greed and ambition.

The Capitol is ours, but we are locked out. It's time to force our way back in.

Start calling and writing your legislators to tell them what you think of the way they do business. Do this now. Do it again in two weeks. You can find out who your legislators are and get contact information at http://www.leg.state.fl.us/.

The governor doesn't list his number, but his e-mail is jeb@jeb.org, and he often responds.

Most officials pay more attention to faxes and letters than e-mails. So, start writing. And calling. If they don't take your calls at the office, call them at home. Most have listed phone numbers. For example, Speaker (Tom and wife Ellen) Feeney's home number is listed at http://www.anywho.com/ in his hometown of Oviedo.

Let me know what happens.

They've been hitting us where we live for way too long. Now it's our turn to do the same to them.

Contact columnist Fawn Germer at fawn.germer@weeklyplanet.com or 813-248-8888, ext. 134.

This article appears in Apr 17-23, 2002.