1989-1995 Ford Taurus SHO

So six of these seven model years are not from the 1980s.  That's the "beyond" part of this compilation, perhaps.  But the entirety of this generation was either completely or fundamentally ‘80s engineering, so they all get included here. 

This is one of the best cars ever to grace God’s green earth.  It might be my desert island car.  Hope that island has some good roads and an Exxon station.  There are varying theories on how the SHO came about, and it takes some time and determination to separate fact from fiction.  In any event, here’s the version I prefer:

Starting in 1984, in partnership with the Ghia design studio, Ford created a supercar prototype project, codenamed GN34, that was to feature a transverse, high output, multivalve, overhead cam engine mounted amidships.  Not having such a mill of their own, Ford tapped Yamaha for design and production.  A 3.0 liter, 24-valve DOHC, 60-degree V6 making 220 horsepower was born.  Needless to say, the car was never produced, but Ford did not renege on their contract with Yamaha, and the motors were churned out even though no target car existed.  A little less than three years after the release and progressive success of the Taurus, on what I like to think was a particularly beery evening with all the inspiration entailed therein, the proposal was made to shoehorn this fire breather under the hood of a specially prepared Taurus that would, so equipped, stuff the BMW 5-series back into Bavaria for half the price.

To work in concert with all that power, and drive home the sporting intention of the car, a stoked up version of the MTX-III 5-speed transaxle from the Tempo was installed.  This much stronger unit was designated MTX-IV.  Four wheel discs were made standard.  The suspension was what you’d appropriately call beefed, with specially calibrated spring rates and firm struts.  Mounted to a 5x108 bolt pattern were 6-inch wide 15 inch wheels sporting 215/60VR performance rubber. 

And so, in the fall of 1988, for the 1989 model year, Ford rolled out a world beater of a sports sedan that built on the already established Euro-American credentials of the much vaunted Taurus.  It went, stopped, and handled with the world’s best – Car and Driver splashed it across the cover in late ’88 with the declaration “America’s Best Sedan!”  Since the SHO was indeed a Taurus, it was not an “all-new” car under Motor Trend’s Car of the Year rules.  If it had been, it would likely have taken the honor for ’89 (though it easily found a place among Car and Driver’s Ten Best, a feat that would be repeated in redesign year 1992).  As it was, Ford found little to complain about at the newsstand, as the new-for-’89 Thunderbird Super Coupe nabbed the Car of the Year honor.

 

Critics and enthusiasts alike found plenty more to rave about when it came to SHO’s performance.  Zero-to-sixty sprints were completed by Car and Driver in a scant 6.4 seconds, with the quarter-mile arriving in the shallow 15-second range.  The numbers told only part of the story about the accelerative thrust of the SHO, however.  A gorgeous, complicated intake plenum with vacuum-actuated runners allowed the Yamamotor to breathe through six long, smaller diameter runners at engine speeds below 4000 RPM, optimizing fuel economy and low end torque, while six short, higher diameter runners were called upon at higher revolutions to allow maximum breathing and horsepower.  The way this worked in practice was, appropriately, breathtaking.  Under full throttle, the car would bolt forward, veer toward the ditch (don't fear the torque steer!), and upon passing 4000 RPM, as vacuum pressure fell, actuating the high diameter intake runners, the exhaust note turned from a roar to a scream.  At this point the driver was given a hefty shove in the lumbar region.  Thus equipped, SHO was able to show taillights to the vast majority of cars on the road. 

Keeping the SHO relevant was important to Ford’s marketing strategy at the time.  After all, continuous improvement had been President Don Petersen’s goal all throughout the ‘80s.  So as Alex Trotman took the helm at the Glass House, the inherent goodness and profligacy of the product line continued.  In that vein, the SHO got 16-inch “Cuisinart” slicer wheels for 1991, along with a dash update for the entire Taurus line, with continued high performance instrumentation especially for SHO.

Nineteen ninety-two marked a significant redesign for the entire Taurus and Sable lineups, and SHO was no exception, getting updated headlamps, a more aggressively sloped hood, and slickly integrated side marker and cornering lamps.  Ironically, these three avant garde accoutrements were all borrowed from Taurus’ more conservative sister ship Sable.  Adorned on the SHO, however, they served to look just plain mean, and were backed up by updates that made SHO look even better than before.  A new nose included an updated integrated front air dam, and tasteful bodyside cladding.  Ground effects were rounded out by a unique rear bumper cover and rear valance that skirted dual exhaust outlets on each side of the car, all of which served to further drive home the sporting disposition of the SHO.

In all, this bull from Dearborn, manufactured in Atlanta, served notice to sedans foreign and domestic.  Not only had it sent a message to the Bavarians, it let them know that a faster car was available at a fraction of the price with significantly better reliability.

1979-1983 Datsun 280ZX

Nineteen Seventy-Nine was the year that the Z car evolved into the ZX car.  That “X” brought along with it stylistic changes that would render it the most beautiful of all Zs, before or after.  I bet I’ll get some mail for that.  No matter.  Automotive enthusiasm is what this deal is all about.  And let me tell you, the 1990-1996 cars are beautiful.  But nothing from Nissan / Datsun captures like the 280ZX.  Manufactured in Japan (as the Fairlady ZX) and landing on American shores, it blended stylistic influence as far flung as the Jaguar XK-E and as close to home as the later years of  the “flying dildo” Corvette C3.  In all, it worked pretty seamlessly to create a muscular, lithe, sports GT in the Japanese idiom.  But for the American market.  Got it?  

I’d mark 1980 as the year that the ZX hit its stride.  T-tops bowed that year, helping to create what Datsun marketed as “The ultimate definition of AWESOME.”  Turbocharging was added to the options list for 1981.  At that time, America was just leaping out of the blocks in what would become a mad dash toward turbo craziness.  Led by Buick with the forced induction 1978 3.8 litre Regals, the U.S. market quickly embraced the benefit of horsepower without much expense to fuel economy – not so insane, after all.  High quality manufacturer installed turbochargers quickly gained momentum as reliable and tractable performance accoutrements that laid waste to their brittle, failure prone aftermarket counterparts of just a few years prior.

Nineteen eighty-one brought the 2+2 ZX, for those who eschewed the notion that a finely tuned sports machine and a budding family should remain mutually exclusive.  If the extra 6-odd inches of roofline didn’t distort the great lines of this car in your opinion, then it was just for you.  In what was quickly becoming automotive tradition, Japanese or otherwise, Datsun was committed to refining the driver environment.  The Z interior, thus, was as comfortable and well outfitted as possible.   

This mantra gave rise to ever improving interior appointments, building upon the factory fitted Hitachi high-output stereo to include what Nissan would later refer to as a “computer board” – an optional fully digital dash with electronically monitored systems and functions.  Some nattering nabobs of negativism said this was uncouth in a performance oriented car.  How can you look at that disco display and not be taken in by it at least a little? 

The years 1982 and ’83 were largely carryover years for the ZX, as preparation continued for the next generation – the 300ZX.  These late Datsuns represent some of the best buys in the GT strata of their time – fully fleshed out high-po tourers that were well sorted and dead reliable.  Prices for any ZX in great shape, particularly those capable of inhaling elevated intake pressures, are rising.

1986-1989 Chrysler Conquest TSi and Mitsubishi Starion ESI-R

Nineteen eighty-three was the year that Mitsubishi broke loose and started importing cars to the U.S. market on its own.  Until that point, Mitsus had only hit these shores emblazoned with Dodge and Plymouth brands.  Though the relationship with ChryCo continued, the Diamond Star brand, through this new strategy, brought us cars we had not previously seen domestically.  This arrangement also created some duality.  While Cordia and Tredia were newly unique to the Japanese label, the established Colt continued to be sold by Dodge and Plymouth dealers.  The debuting Starion and Conquest split the uprights, with the former gracing Mitsubishi dealers and the latter being sold through Dodge and Plymouth outfits – Chrysler starting in 1987. 

In the years immediately hence, improvements abounded.  An intercooler bowed for both cars for 1985; 1986 brought mean handling and appearance upgrades.  Box-flared fenders front and rear, along with staggered rolling stock – seven inch wide wheels in front, eight in back, made for unapologetic ground control and created a look that espoused the moral equivalent of a samurai Porsche 944 turbo with a generous helping of mid-80s glam rock.  A water cooled turbo bearing and improved dual-stage fuel injection hit the streets for '87.  Of further interest, a much more palatable price tag than Stuttgart offered made these two winners in the bang-for-the-buck category. 

Overall value aside, neither was what you’d call cheap.  Fully equipped, they stickered out for about 19 grand in 1986 dollars.  Signing on the dotted line, however, got you about every mechanical and technological feature that the designers could wrap into the package.  Improved braking got the nod with four wheel disc with rear anti-lock; handling got it with limited slip differential and four wheel independent suspension.  Underhood, there was even more power than 1985’s efforts had wrought.  Tweaks to existing hardware – Mitsubishi’s proven 2.6 liter “silent shaft” four cylinder, with its patented twin counter rotating balance shafts and Mitsu’s own TC05 turbocharger, intercooled via a front mount setup, continued to build on Starion and Conquest’s resume.  As a result, horsepressure was up to 176 spirited nags, torque to a ground pounding 223 ft-lbs.  With subtle tuning, horsepower jumped to 189 for 1988 and ’89, and the Super Handling Package (SHP) became available, sporting eight inch wide tires front, nine rear, for an even more imposing footprint, possibly at the expense of some straight line stability at highway speeds. 

Inside, redundant radio controls punctuated the steering wheel (2-spoke A-frame for ’86 and ’87, four spoke for ’88 and ’89), and passive automatic shoulder belts ran from A to B pillars for both driver and front passenger, diagonally plastered with the repeated nomenclature “TURBO” throughout their lengths (in case you forgot what was under the hood).  Side mirrors were heated.  Wipers were speed sensitive, with a manual override feature for interval that was overly complex in the Japanese idiom.  Climate control emanated from a slick digital unit that was fully automatic if so ordered by the pilot, and like Volvo, mixed fresh air with heat without driver input.  It also compensated for solar gain using a photostatic sensor mounted dashtop, and went one step further by analyzing temperature at both dash and floor levels.  Fully articulated front bucket seats with adjustable thigh support cradled the first class occupants in whatever fashion they deemed most suitable.  While I’ve always relished the driving environment of these cars, I’ve often pictured a room full of Japanese engineers working to pour every technological feature possible into the cabin.

All accounts of matters qualitative and quantitative do only so much to encapsulate the actual driving experience.  Mitsubishi turbochargers have a reputation for being boisterous, and these cars are no exception.  Starion and Conquest sound like atomic teakettles when the boost is whipped up and on the boil.  True to such a temperature analogy, they also go like scalded cats when the backside of the accelerator pedal collides with the carpet.  They are overstated extroverts the top of their game, and offer a unique flavor that few have tasted.  Some of this rarity is the direct result of the Voluntary Restraint Agreement, or import quotas, of the first half of the ‘80s, which hampered Mitsubishi’s ability to bring more iron Stateside and impacted its production ability via reduced economies of scale even after the VRA was history.  The rest of it perhaps is related to these cars’ captive import status and their competition with the Chrysler Laser and Dodge Daytona, which Chrysler had more interest in promoting.

Regardless, these cars have a unique impact on people – they either remember them vividly or not at all.  For my part, they make me feel like I’m seventeen again and my parents are gone for the weekend.

1983-1988 Thunderbird Turbo Coupe.

Sales of the eighth generation of Thunderbirds had never been strong, and they paled in comparison to the runaway success of the Torino-based seventh generation.  By 1982, Ford could barely give them away.  Cue Jack Telnack, newly appointed chief of design atFord, an American imported from his post in Europe, who said to his folks, “What would you like to see in your driveway?”  Empowered in a way that was nearly unknown in corporate automotive spheres at the time, great minds at Ford rallied to the task and penned a stunner under Telnack’s aegis for 1983.  

Much more than a pretty face, the kicker was that this new “aero bird” packed optional firepower in its talons.  Digging into the parts bin, Ford breathed new life into the Lima 4-cylinder that bowed in 1971 in the Pinto.  Fully fuel injected, displacing 2.3 liters, and strapped to a Garrett AirResearch T3 turbocharger, this mill soared to new heights, shattering the coveted one horsepower per cubic inch barrier with three nags to spare – 143 hp from 140 cubes. 

In 1984, the same excellent ‘Bird played again, with a few minor changes.  Back then, Ford’s ear was to the ground; enthusiasts in their ranks were reading the car pubs – and taking notice.  In one of the most flattering reviews of any car extant, Car and Driver’s Larry Griffin had a small gripe in July ‘83: the stalk mounted horn switch.  He wrote that “the hooter is impossible to find just when you need it most.”  A new wheel mounted horn button appeared for ’84, the same year that the Wee Scot, Jackie Stewart, wheeled a new TC through the gears in a TV spot for FoMoCo, lauding its ergonomics and responsiveness.  The aero bird was at a fresh altitude – way above the trees.

The year 1985 brought freshened exterior details, new 15-inch wheels shod with Goodyear P225VR60 “Gatorbacks,” and much to the delight of the Ford design team, a welcome triumph over the bean counters in the form of a brand new dash.  While this writer holds a soft spot for the windshield-spanning dash of ’83 and ’84, with its unforgettable grid-patterned instrument panel, the new cockpit did indeed introduce a welcome amount of additional functionality, plugging in water, oil, and boost gauges.  All this additional situation awareness prompted Ford’s advertising team to run an ad showcasing the new interior look and lauding the new instrumentation as “Everything You Need to Know.”  Further good news met well with those sporting Escort radar detectors atop their dashes or cupped to their windshields: horsepower was up to 155.  The same went for 1986.

Nineteen-Eighty-Seven was another watershed year for the lofty beast.  Originally planned for ’86, but delayed one year due to very strong sales of the eighty-six ‘Birds and Cougars (the 1984 to 1986 XR-7 variant of the latter deserves the same special mention as Turbo Coupes over the same period), some new sheetmetal, a provocative new nose, and definitive triple-circle taillights debuted to keep the latest iteration of the Fox Thunderbird at the top of the heap.  In addition to extensive external changes, those under the skin were vast – the Thunderbird 2.3 Lima received a long-awaited intercooler, more power, and additional state of the art electrickery.  Horsepower, coincident with the switch to a smaller but faster spinning IHI turbocharger, rocketed to 190 in 5-speed equipped cars.  Anti-lock brakes by Alfred E. Teves Corporation grabbed all four discs.  An electronic, automatically adaptive suspension by Tokico, festooned with cockpit controlled manual overrides, brought heretofore unseen levels of ground control to this GT car.  

Motor Trend thought enough of this new iteration to bestow upon it their highesthonor – Car of the Year.  Ford wisely reasoned, why mess with success?  Model year 1988 proffered the same terrific automobile, closing out a gilded chapter in what is seldom regarded by purists as the greatest generation of Thunderbird, but should be.

You Can't Judge Automotive History The Way You Judge Regular History

This, like any other endeavor, has to start somewhere.  But first, an introduction.  Where better to start than the explanation for the Courier typeface?  I'm an analog hound.  As I write this, the Alan Parsons cassette title Ammonia Avenue plays in the background.  In the corner, an IBM Selectric III sits.  Given the influence of these things on my life, selecting this font was the least I could do.

Maybe you're getting the impression that I prefer older things to new.  Maybe you're right.  But some equivocation is necessary here.  I'm no Luddite.  As this is to be a blog about things automotive, let us start by establishing that I view a beam style torque wrench to be an effective but inferior implement, but disfavor shift paddles.  Does that sort things out?  I hope so.  At least for now.  More on that later.  As you'll discover, discussion is always welcome.

So let's dive right in, eh?  What's getting me these days is the current knack of automotive reviewers of one stripe or another to denigrate the technology of the past via direct comparison with the present.  Hardly seems fair.  Regardless of your age, picture your parents having a sit-down with you to compare your accomplishments (and antics) of today in direct contrast with those of some 30 or more years past.  Not necessarily a pretty picture.  You didn't know what you do now.  But let us suppose that you did the best you could at the time.

And let us also suppose that your best was pretty damn good...

And with that, we have thus laid the foundation work for a discussion of what, in my opinion, was the greatest decade.  The 1980s.

I'll make no apologies for my biases, but I'll do what I can to buttress my assertions with support from my own arsenal.  You may not always agree with me, but I hope that you'll find this a forum of great interest and interaction.  This is not to be a "johnny come lately" compendium of cars that every teenager of every generation automatically pinned to his or her wall.

Where would one expect me to start?  Ferrari Testarossa?  Great car.  Probably the best supercar of its time.  Great dash, favorable control relationships, beautiful interior, and even halfway decent rearward visibility (that high mounted rear view mirror actually was functional).  But no.  We can get to that Maranello Flash later.  It was hugely relevant in the '80s, but I favor the unsung heroes. 

Let's go out there on a string.  Test the waters in Rod Serling-like esoterica.  The 1984 Dodge Colt Turbo.  With 4x2 Twin Stick.  Manufactured by Mitsubishi, but imported for Dodge.  Twin stick was a four-speed transaxle that used a multiplier to allow eight actual ratios.  One stick nearest your right leg for HI and LO, a traditional gearbox to the right of that to select four gears in the H-pattern you're accustomed to.  In concert, a way to maximize both off the line thrust and at-cruise economy.

The turbo variant of the Colt was produced only in '84.  The honeycomb grille looked great, but it wasn't for looks: the horizontally vaned style affair on lesser models wasn't strong enough to withstand the heat produced by the front mounted turbo.  So the mod got the nod.  Who can scoff when form follows function?

And the car was capable of 5.78 second 0-50 times.  Keep in mind that with the national speed limit being 55 MPH (imposed under Nixon after gas crisis '74), zero to sixty times were unfashionable and construed as law-flouting.  Regardless, this little pressurized econobox was capable of delivering a decent shove to the driver's lumbar region when the accelerator met the carpet.

Not even your parents could argue with that.


Watch this space...