While Marana Aerospace Solutions is publicity shy, Petty is happy to talk with anyone who catches him on duty at the airfield. When those 747s are called into service, Petty says, they'll be tugged into Marana's hangar, cleaned and painted if necessary, and flown to where they're needed. Marana keeps the jets in ready-to-go shape, Petty says, even rolling them a foot or two several times a day to keep tires in shape. Odds are they are here because a deal fell through, or the buyer (often an aircraft-leasing company) had no immediate use for them. Other planes sit with engines removed, and most have a red "X" taped to their noses, marked for salvage.īut although some aircraft have been there three decades or more, others have arrived almost directly from the factory, Petty says. ![]() A jet with a faded TWA logo on its fuselage invokes images of fliers in suits and ties, with complimentary champagne served shortly after takeoff. "Everyone sees the old passenger jets and think they've been parked out here forever, slowly wasting away." "There's a lot more going on out here than most people realize," Petty says. On busier days, jump planes take off every 20 minutes or less. Special Operations Command's Parachute Training and Testing Facility. To the west is the landing zone for paratroopers training at the U.S. To the north, Silverbell Army Heliport, run by the Army National Guard, trains hundreds of military pilots each year. Much goes on here other than maintenance and salvage. Petty, the airport economic development director, is liaison between Pinal County and the airpark's tenants, the largest of which, Marana Aerospace Solutions, is minding most of the jets parked here. Concrete pads are all that remain of the kennels where guard dogs awaited orders. Today, however, the small guard shack is empty. The alarmed barks of guard dogs emphasized the point - visitors were not welcome. The next exit offers a partial explanation: Pinal Airpark Road.Īdventurous travelers who just a few years ago followed the two-lane road past the sand and gravel pit would have encountered an armed guard at the airpark's gate. ![]() ![]() The other jets are noted only for their sheer number, as dozens comprise a tableau one would expect at an airport, not in a solitary patch of land bounded by desert on one side and cotton fields on the other. The 747s are easy to pick out, thanks to their immense size and bulbous noses. Passenger jets, too many to count at 75 mph, sit wing to wing. Then, a flicker of white, red and blue draw eyes to the west, where a cluster of tail fins pokes over the horizon.Īs tires chew asphalt with a hypnotic thrum, the sleek metallic bodies connected to those fins emerge. For motorists on the way to Tucson from Phoenix, little interrupts the desert's color scheme.
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