Ghost Town Before Christmas

In this episode, Ghost Town Before Christmas . . .

According to the headlines, the world was jammed solid. Freeways locked. Airports bursting. Humanity is on the move in what the news helpfully labeled a Holiday Travel Apocalypse.

So at 9:00 Sunday morning, we rolled out on our bikes expecting chaos.

Instead, we found… Nothing.

The San Luis Rey bike path was empty, as if we’d pedaled through a rip in the fabric of time. The air had that rare late-December clarity—cool, clean, almost polished. Trees along the path dropped gold and amber leaves that skittered across the pavement like small, polite ghosts. The sun wasn’t loud or demanding—just warm enough to make the world feel calm and contained—a private trail of asphalt and light.

By the time we reached Oceanside Harbor, the travel warnings felt almost absurd. While the news promised mayhem, the harbor delivered stillness. The water rippled, reflecting the sun. The Pier stood against a deep sapphire sky brushed with thin, quiet clouds. No crowds. No shouting. Just the soft creak of boats and a town that hadn’t gotten the memo; it was supposed to be busy.

I don’t know where everyone went, but I was grateful for their absence. While the rest of the world was wrestling carry-on bags into overhead bins of destiny, our coastline had gone silent. The roads were so still I could hear my own pulse. For a moment, I wasn’t just cycling—I was curating an empty world.

Of course, the spell eventually broke.

Taking an unusual route home through Carlsbad, I finally found the missing population. They hadn’t vanished; they’d relocated. As I crested the hill near the outlet malls and Costco, the quiet dissolved into a familiar hum of holiday urgency—parking lots packed tight with chrome and brake lights, shoppers orbiting for bargains and spaces.

Just a few miles apart: two entirely different worlds.

While everyone else was hunting for deals, I had already found the only thing worth keeping this season—the quiet, golden center of the storm.

I’m Patrick Ball. Stay curious, ask questions, enjoy the ride — and Merry Christmas!🎄

Comments

Don Hanley said…

You found more than the quiet - you found PEACE.

December 22, 2025 at 10:14 AM

Anonymous said…

Merry Christmas!

December 22, 2025 at 10:37 AM

The Compass of Cuba: Mom

🎄 Preview of this week's On the Fly blog: A Holiday Tribute to Mom. As the holidays hustle with pixels and beeps, the world scrolls along in a smartphone-y sleep. I log off for a moment—just one little minute— To breathe in the past and to sit myself in it. My mind doesn’t wander to faraway places, Or trips full of tickets and new airport faces. Instead, it drifts backward, as memories do, to Cuba, Illinois, where the best moments grew. To a home full of warmth, in the wintry Midwest, Where my mother—dear “Marcie”—put love to the test. With a smile that could melt the most frigid of dawns, and hugs that hung on you like shivering fawns. She came from La Rochelle in France, brave and bright, Across oceans and war shadows, into new light. A town full of strangers soon felt like her own, And her courage built up the foundation of home. “Oh yes, we know Marcie!” the locals would say— “It's Doc Ball’s French lady! She brightens the day!” She cleaned, and she cooked, and sh...

Feeling Human Again

In this episode, The Unexpected Thankfulness of Feeling Human Again I’ll be honest with you: My triumphant return from France was not the glamorous homecoming I had imagined. No graceful glide back into routine. No cinematic jet-setter moment where I lift my suitcase off the carousel and wink at life like we’re old pals. Instead? I came home and immediately launched into a two-week performance piece titled The Great American Couch Collapse. My days blurred together in a haze of soup, hot tea, tissues, and desperate negotiations with the universe for just one nostril—one!—to function properly. The living room sofa became my emotional support furniture. And any creative idea that dared tiptoe into my congested brain was gently shown the exit with a firm but courteous, “Not today, friend. Try again later.” When life hits the pause button like that—when you’re exhausted, sick, and mentally unplugged—how do you find your spark again? Somehow, today, I felt it. A tiny shift. A clearing of th...

A Holiday Reflection–Mother's Love

In this episode, How a Mother’s Love Built My Memories– A Holiday Reflection As this holiday season approaches and the world buzzes with shopping, planning, and busy schedules, I find myself embracing something wonderfully simple: taking a moment to pause. Not to check off a list or recharge devices, but to breathe deeply, remember fondly, and honor the person and place that have shaped my sense of home long before I had the words for it. This year, after regaining my strength from a lingering post-travel fog, my mind didn’t wander to exotic destinations or future adventures. It drifted backward—across oceans and time—to Cuba, Illinois, in the early 1960s, and to the woman whose love built the foundation of my world: Mauricette Elaine (Bontemps) Ball. My Mom . We came to Cuba after leaving La Rochelle, France, in 1959—a transition so dramatic I only appreciate its enormity now. My mother, barely in her mid-twenties, stepped off that plane and into the Midwest with a courage that s...

Stamps and Snow

In this episode, Stamps and Snow . . . You don’t usually walk into the local Post Office expecting a time warp . . . but here we are. All we wanted were stamps for this year's Christmas cards— yes, the old-fashioned paper ones that require licking, sticking, and hoping the Postal Service is feeling ambitious this week. But holiday errands have a talent for slowing you down, almost like the universe whispering, “Relax. You’re not getting out of this line any faster anyway.” So we waited. And while we waited, we talked (Are you surprised?). Because the Post Office is one of the few places where people still look up from their phones long enough to talk . . . Maybe it's because they're holding packages. It’s the modern town square: part civic duty, part free entertainment, part sociology experiment. The discussion began with holiday specials streaming on Netflix, Paramount+, and other services during this time of year. One gentleman who has lived in Vista since 1958 told us,...

On The Fly

Search This Blog