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
But the legend of the An-990 persists because it represents a pure, unfiltered expression of Soviet-era "gigantomania": the belief that any logistical problem can be solved by adding more engines, more wheels, and more wings. It is the aviation equivalent of building a pyramid—a monument not to practicality, but to the hubris of "because we can." The landing gear, a nightmare of hydraulics, contained