The landing gear, a nightmare of hydraulics, contained 64 wheels arranged in four independent bogie trains. Turning required a specialized tow-tractor and a five-kilometer turning radius. The only operational anecdote comes from a purported "leak" by a former Antonov test engineer in a 2012 forum post, since deleted. He claimed that a single prototype—registration CCCP-990100—was rolled out of a modified hangar in Kyiv in December 1991, just weeks before the fall of the Soviet Union.
Today, with the real An-225 destroyed in the 2022 conflict, the ghost of the An-990 serves as a poignant, almost tragic symbol. It reminds us that sometimes the most incredible aircraft are not the ones that fly, but the ones that exist just on the other side of reason, waiting in the blueprint—a beautiful, impossible answer to a question no one should have asked. antonov an-990
The solution was a grotesque masterpiece of radial symmetry. The landing gear, a nightmare of hydraulics, contained
In the pantheon of aviation engineering, the Antonov Design Bureau is synonymous with "big." The An-225 Mriya —a six-engine, 32-wheel leviathan that carried the Soviet Buran space shuttle—remains the heaviest aircraft ever built. But in the dusty archives of unbuilt concepts, whispered about in the hangars of Hostomel Airport, lies a legend that makes the An-225 look like a crop duster: the Antonov An-990 . The solution was a grotesque masterpiece of radial symmetry
The project was buried. The prototype, according to the tale, was disassembled and its parts absorbed into the construction of the second (never-completed) An-225. No aerodynamicist believes the An-990 could have flown economically—or safely. The torsional stress on the wing joints would have been catastrophic. The fuel consumption would have bankrupted a small nation. The engine-out scenario (losing one of 14) would require a flight computer more advanced than anything in the 1990s.