1996 Ford Taurus SHO Grows Up

From the October 1995 issue of Car and Driver.

If there was anything wrong with the first SHO Taurus, it was that it lacked refinement. It certainly did not lack performance. Even with the automatic transmission that was introduced for 1993 to bolster sales, the SHO ran to 60 mph in 7.6 seconds and tripped the quarter-mile lights in 15.7 seconds. That put it in the company of the BMW 325i and the Acura Legend. Along with such sprightly accel­eration came marvelous midrange flexi­bility and rip-snorting throttle response.

Somehow, this failed to impress the sports-sedan clique, who refrained from purchasing SHO Tauruses in even the modest numbers Ford had hoped for. It’s a risky wager, but we bet the new Ford Taurus SHO does not suffer the same fate.

Why? Because the car has moved into a new niche, its focus has altered, and its image has shifted upmarket. And the car will cost a lot more—about $33,000, Ford tells us. The new SHO is more a four-door Lincoln Mark VIII than it is a souped-up family sedan. The choice of a V-8 under­lines that fact as much as it fulfills the prophecy we heard from Ford officials a few years ago that all Fords would soon be powered by engines from their own drawing boards.

The new SHO’s engine shares the basic architecture of the Duratec 2.5-liter V-6 found in the smaller Contour, with exactly the same bore, stroke, and cylinder spac­ing. Development time decreases when all of an engine’s dimensions and parameters have already been explored. This com­monality endows the 3.4-liter V-8 with a 60-degree angle between cylinder banks, relinquishing the usual 90-degree V-8’s inherent equilibrium and making the installation of a balance shaft necessary.

Although this is a Ford engine, devel­opment was shared by Yamaha, which machines and assembles the engines in Japan after receiving castings produced, using a patented Cosworth process, by Ford’s plant in Windsor, Ontario. The fin­ished engines are shipped back to Ford’s Atlanta assembly plant for installation in the SHO Taurus. It is the only Ford engine with direct ignition, reverse-flow cooling, and aluminum bucket tappets in the valve­train.

And what a civilized engine it is. Producing just a satisfying purr at cruising speeds—and a mellow snarl when spurred to greater effort—the four-cam V-8 sounds and feels more expensive than the V-6 it replaces. But it doesn’t have the immediacy that the old V-6 flaunted, nor the enthu­siastic midrange pickup. Although the V-8 produces more torque (225 pound-feet versus 215 at the same 4800 rpm), it seems to lack the V-6’s instant midrange throttle response.

The early prototype SHO we tested was also less capable in every performance cat­egory except braking, where it equaled the old car’s 197-foot stopping distance from 70 mph. Its 8.0-second 0-to-60 time makes it 0.4 second slower than the previous SHO automatic we tested. It was also a half-­second slower in the quarter-mile. The impression of having less midrange response is heightened by the fact that the new SHO comes only with an automatic transmission; it downshifts obediently at any generous measure of throttle increase, choosing to rev rather than to lug. And this impression is also reinforced by the some­what distant nature of the well-isolated powerplant.

In the old SHO, a dig at the throttle pro­duced an exuberant snarl from the engine, a distinct tug of torque steer at the wheel, and a surge of power. In the new car, such things are handled much more circum­spectly, the sensations diluted by the improved body structure, the well-behaved steering, the seamless transmission, and the thick layer of refinement that coats all of the car’s mechanical exploits.

The only part of the new SHO’s reper­toire that is uncharacteristically rude is the ride quality across abrupt breaks in the pavement. Over tar patches and bad expan­sion strips, the suspension thumps like a buckboard—this despite automatic dual-­level damping, which is informed by ride­-height sensors and initiated by electronics. Over less sudden undulations, the ride is nice and flat, with little roll or pitch to dis­turb its attitude.

The SHO is also very quiet on pave­ment that lacks the sharp breaks needed to set up that disturbing percussion, and it covers ground with a tempo understated by the car’s good composure and quiet ride. Helping keep the act together is a remarkably smooth and precise variably assisted steering gear, along with handling that keeps the car faithfully on your chosen line without any of the deviations you usually expect from changes in surface camber or texture.

Here again, the quality of the new SHO’s steering and handling is subtle, engineered to keep the occupants isolated from the action rather than involved in it. You have to detect the tiny bit of road feel through the damped steering mechanism and to acknowledge the good off-center response visually rather than as a tactile change of wheel effort.

Consequently, the new SHO is less of an overt driver’s car, even though it exhibits much better poise than its prede­cessor. Most of the torque steer is gone, but the new car still swivels slightly off­-course under full throttle, at the same time revealing a mild locked-up steering effect. Squeeze in a degree of correction and the car locks onto a heading slightly off-course in the other direction, if you’re still accel­erating hard.

Mainly, though, the new SHO just goes obediently about its business. The elec­tronically controlled AX4N transmission is among the least intrusive mechanisms of its kind, producing upshifts (just above 6000 rpm, despite the 7000-rpm redline) that are a perfect blend of speed and smoothness, and downshifts that are more apparent on the tach than they are through the seat of the pants. Squeeze the overdrive button off while cruising and you can watch the tach needle swing to a new posi­tion without any discernible driveline surge. It’s that smooth.

Along with the creamy driveline, the new SHO has a roomy interior filled with sculpted forms, organic moldings, and swoopy panels. When you slide inside it, any expectations of a sporty persona dis­solve. The accommodations are generous and comfortable. The switches are clear and easy to use, with decent tactile quali­ties, but the surfaces are as impersonal as the control interfaces. The oval center con­sole, in particular, is an art-deco affecta­tion that feels as if it will not grow friendlier with time.

Still, the only part of the SHO’s pol­ished new upscale personality that does not work is the jittery, clumpy ride on high-frequency pavement breaks. The rest of it—questionable styling aside—is gen­teel enough to lure luxury-car aspirants who wouldn’t have considered the pre­vious Taurus SHO. As for the fans of the previous car . . . Ford must be hoping that they have matured, too.