Camp in the mountains

Yesterday, for no special reason except to have an excuse to take a road trip, I went up to my parent's place in the poconos to pick up their mail. It drizzled most of the way up and was aggressively gray, but I loved it. You can be alone with your thoughts for a while and listen to some great tunes. It's a feeling that's both easy and peaceful. Glenn Frey knows what I'm talking about.
After I get the mail, I decide to drive around the town of East Stroudsburg and look for a place to eat. I could have sworn I remembered seeing a diner there, but there wasn't one...a rather big bar used a diner facade for its entrance. I was thinking I'd stop to head off to the record shop there, but I just drove on.
I wound up at a Burger King, because frankly I was hungry and didn't feel like driving around anymore. It's when I finished lunch and walked out that it became interesting for me.
I looked past a full parking lot to the fog-covered mountains in the background. Things slowed down and I just stood there in the rain for a few moments taking it all in. A whole bunch of memories came flooding back. All of a sudden, I was back in 1995, during one of my sundays off from the summer camp where I worked in North Georgia. Most of those days off I would spend in my car, driving and exploring my environs. I would get out when I felt the desire to, and I would explore the side roads if they called to me.
This trip to the poconos felt exactly like that. On those sundays off, I was free from the camp and all that entailed. So, yesterday I felt free, and that was nice.
I think I also fell in love with a memory. There was this fellow camp counselor that I had a thing for but never really acted on it. She taught arts and crafts and was one cabin down from mine. She was kind of a hippie chick, with long, wavy, reddish-brown hair, and I thought she was perfect for me at the time.
One particular memory I have of her is when we would have a roll call in the mornings with our bunks before we'd go for breakfast. When she would come down, I would start humming the notes to the tune "heart and soul." Playfully, she would cover her ears and start singing Janis Joplin's "Mercedes Benz." How bloody cool is that?
Unfortunately, I didn't keep in contact with her, and yesterday, for the first time in a while, I thought of her and what she might be doing now.
I have no idea, and while that's a bit of a bummer, I still have a great memory of her, and sometimes that's all we get.