I typically ride on roads that most drivers, if they don't live there, don't know about. The ONE up side to living/biking/working in the suburbs. I'd say the general density of harrassment is higher in the city, but by far the psychologically most detremental encounters have been in the suburbs. Not sure why, maybe it's just my perception (in the city it's mandatory that I ignore most sensory input, in the suburbs there's less to pay attention to so more gets in?), or maybe it's the concept that these jagoffs are my neighbors and councilmembers, and these streets are where I walk my dog. I don't know. It's definitely where the lengthier, higher speed, and more harrowing encounters happen. But I'd say 99.9% of the drivers pass me and we all move on with our lives. Sometimes I get a happy toot or a wave.
In the city, it's worse - in terms of frequency. In the suburbs, there's a shoulder or two lanes or just so little traffic that passing me is relatively easy. In the city, no space. Luckily, drivers in the city don't usually imagine their driving experience will be devoid of cyclists, red lights, and speed limits (like the suburbs). Those that do are typically pissed off at everything (since there's lots of cyclists & redlights) so it's easy to not take their impotent rage personally. There's enough other things that need my attention such that, unless the threat is immediate, it's not on my mind.
I typically don't respond at all, maybe a "why hello there, what what!" wave (half greeting, half 'woops'). Sometimes someone tries to engage me in a discussion, I try to be polite - if they're interested instead in "teaching" me some kind of "lesson", I satisfy their perception that I'm clearly one of those "self centered idiots" and ignore them, since no good will come of it. 10 seconds at a red light isn't a teachable moment, at least not for me.
Cat calls? Man, I kinda wish I got those (like ever - even as a teenager jogging I never got them). Closest I ever got on a bike has been a "WOOO-OOOO YOU GO GIRL!!!" at a stop sign by a fantastic lady who let me turn (in the suburbs, on Northern Pike). Perhaps I have the "leave me alone or I'll cut you" expression on my face, hills don't bring out my best. And I wear down right scrubby grungy clothes, I couldn't really look worse. Not blaming the victim, just trying to explain the absence to my ego.
I'll third (fourth?) the recommendation to ride with the Flock... Besides being FANTASTIC for morale (seriously, everything is better after a good Flock
), maybe there's some tips and tricks you can absorb from the group, or glean from watching.
Oh, sometimes I imagine that really rude drivers just lost their family and house in a freak gas explosion, or their parents were actually vicious ogres who only fed them cream of wheat, or their job is junior elephant poop scooper at the zoo, and that's why they're less than polite. Then they're really easy to forgive. Kind of silly, and doesn't always work, but sometimes does. I know I've had less than stellar moments I'd like to take back, and I'd like to imagine I'm still a decent person. It feels better than judging an entire human's life by one freak road encounter.
And no matter what, counting drivers who pass with enough room and don't give me grief ALWAYS boosts my mood. The number just gets too high and really puts the bad encounters in perspective.