I’m Going to Fly, Vicki Berg!

Vicki Berg and I became good friends in 1970 when we were both employees at Shell Oil Company in Tulsa.

I’ve always called her by her full name. It just seemed to fit. I think of it as one word. Vickiberg.

Vickiberg and I went to real estate school together. It was her idea.

I agreed to go only because I thought it would be a good idea to have a real estate license in case I was ever without a job again.

After we got our license, Vickiberg actually started doing some part work in real estate. I did not.

Vickiberg soon resigned her job at Shell and became a leader in the Tulsa real estate market.

Vickiberg was beautiful. She was cool, calm and sophisticated.

I laugh (sorry Vickiberg) when I remember the mouse story.
Vickiberg was in her car and on her way to work.
There was a mouse in the car, as well.
The mouse ran up Vickiberg’s pant leg.
Vickiberg panicked, lost control of the car, ran over the curb and hit a tree.

The car had extensive damage.

Vickiberg cut her forehead caused when her head hit the windshield and broke her sunglasses.

In the emergency room, Vickiberg told the doctors, “Don’t touch me! I want the best plastic surgeon in town.”

It was 1972 when I decided that I wanted to learn to fly a plane.

I went to Harvey Young Airport, the closest one, to get details about their flight school. The instructor told me it would cost $1000 to learn to fly. I told him it would take a long time before I had $1000 but that I would definitely be back for lessons.

That same week I had to take our TV to the local repair shop. It took three trips before I found the shop open for business.  I told the owner that I had been by twice before and was surprised that the shop was closed in the middle of the day.

The owner explained to me that because it was such a nice day, he had gone flying.

“What a coincidence! Just this week I decided to take flying lessons.” When he asked how often I got to “go up”, I told him that I had never flown. Never even been in a plane. “I can fix that”, he said. “We’re going flying!”

He closed up the shop and we went to Harvey Young Airport. We boarded his plane and I went flying for the first time. 

After an exciting first flight and we had landed, he told me that I would be a good pilot.

When I asked how he knew that, he said, “Because you didn’t throw up when I did my trick flying.”

It was after my first time “up” that I told my good friend, “I’m going to fly, Vickiberg!”

She must have been impressed with my plans to learn to fly a plane.
Vickiberg had a thousand dollars. She immediately enrolled in flight school at Harvey Young Airport.

Vickiberg learned to fly but she never got her license because of something called Spatial Disorientation. Seems she could never figure where she was or what direction she was flying.

After Vickiberg took flying lessons, I lost all interest in it. If I were to take flying lessons, it would surely look like I was just copying my good friend.

I’m thinking Vickiberg may have saved two lives. *
Her own because she never got her pilot’s license.
Mine for never learning how to fly a plane.

Thank you, Vicki Berg!

– Sue Williams

* The National Transportation Safety Board reports five small plane crashes each day in the USA.