Tuesday, March 8, 2005 | 8:11 a.m.
You have to admire Assemblyman Bernie Anderson's sense of self.
There the Sparks Democrat was in a photo in the center of the Nevada Legislature's Web site Monday morning, sporting a red and white-striped "Cat-in-the-Hat" top hat while reading Dr. Seuss' "One Fish. Two Fish. Red Fish. Blue Fish," to his 19-month-old grandson via the Internet on Wednesday for "Read Across America Day."
I would have been more impressed had he read "Fox in Socks." Very fast.
Anyway, I found the photo while perusing the Legislature's calendar trying to find out whether our lawmakers were pursuing measures sillier than one currently under debate in California. It calls for offering pop bottle-type refunds for turning in old bicycles.
Under this bill, Californians would pay a little more for a new bike and receive $3 back when they discard it at a recycling center. The idea is to keep bikes out of landfills by refurbishing them for low-income kids and commuters.
Three people sent me this story, so I figured someone wanted me to comment. After all, I had six bicycles in my garage until last Wednesday -- when I added No. 7.
The Other has now enacted a bike rule aping the existing shoe rule: Not another comes into the house without one going out of the house. And the latter would be an impossibility (for him, as well as me, I might add).
The only bicycle to leave the garage in the past 16 years is a mountain bike I loaned to a Girl Scout leader I now cannot locate. That's OK. Hopefully, she rides it.
But how could I possibly get rid of the 1968 pink and white Schwinn Hollywood that's exactly like my first two-wheeler?
And $3 wouldn't begin to compensate for the Bridgestone road bicycle I paid off by selling my wedding rings after my divorce a lifetime ago in Florida. (Hey, the guy didn't ride a bike and didn't like The Cat.)
Also not up for grabs is the little, green folding bike that fits neatly into a regular-size suitcase -- at least until the TSA inspectors unpack it looking for a bomb then cram it back in sideways and wrong-ways. (They owe me a rear derailleur and a paint job.)
There's the dark blue Schwinn touring bike that a friend in Utah built and gave to me in exchange for two homemade pecan pies because I was too broke to pay more. It toted camping gear and me down Oregon's coast, across Montana's Going to the Sun Road and up Canada's Icefields Parkway.
I'll also not part with the true blue road bike I still use to teach classes and will ride this summer as The Other and I embark on the Lewis and Clark Bicycle Trail.
And the one I will take to the grave is the heavy old commuter bike covered with pink polka dots -- one to cover every nick and scratch in the faded black paint.
That's the one I was riding across Pennsylvania when I met The Other a dozen years ago. He was riding his bike across the country. I liked his priorities.
The fatal flaw in this California lawmakers plan is that ridable bikes don't typically end up in landfills. They already are recycled through friends, pawn shops and donations.
For the rest, well, it's not about the money.
It is about the bike.
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