How Ford Made The 1987 Turbo Coupe The Even-Better Encore To The Thunderbird’s Rebirth

The first models of some beloved imported cars arrived on our shores almost perfect. When the first 240Zs and Mazda Miatas dropped, many were even terrified that “improvements” the makers would inevitably make for the model years to follow could only diminish the perfect recipes of the first-gen cars.

American manufacturers during the eighties often had the opposite problem. They’d launch promising new cars that seemed full of potential but were essentially unfinished when released. One such car was the 1983 Ford Thunderbird. Thankfully, the Blue Oval rather quickly corrected some of the half-baked elements of this return-to-form version of the Thunderbird to eventually give us the car we wanted all along: the 1987 “Beak Bird” Turbo coupe

Dark Days In Dearborn

Many car historians worship “salesman supreme” Lee Iacocca, who made sometimes-junky products that sold like crazy. Others buy into the hype of “car guy” Bob Lutz, who championed “enthusiast” stuff that often didn’t sell at all. However, there are a number of very successful auto executives over the years who have not gotten the spotlight they deserve. To me, Donald Peterson of Ford seems to fall into that category: a man who gave us products that both sold and that people who cared about cars actually enjoyed.

Much has been said about how Iacocca saved a dying Chrysler, but it’s overlooked that the Ford Iacocca left behind in 1978 was not in much better shape. Peterson was the one tasked with pulling off the brand’s comeback. One pivotal moment of his early tenure is chronicled in an article by Greg Easterbrook in Washington Monthly:

On a very dark day in 1980, Donald Petersen, newly chosen president of Ford Motors, visited the company design studios. Ford was in the process of losing $2.2 billion, the largest single-year corporate loss in U.S. history. The future seemed equally bleak. Most Fords could charitably be described as iron thunder lizards. There was no minimum to the number of them Petersen could sell.

Petersen had come to review proposals for a new Thunderbird–the model that had been Ford’s flagship but through the 1970s had grown about as exciting as a tuna trawler. He was shown the customary sketches of big, boring boxes. Ford designers, truth be told, hated their own designs. Often they had tried to propose interesting cars like the Europeans and Japanese were building. Top management always shot them down. There was only one kind of car headquarters wanted to hear about: A Car Just Like Last Year’s.

Indeed, the all-new 1980 Thunderbird being sold that year was based on the smaller, economical, and decent-driving Fox platform instead of the previous year’s Torino-based boat. However, the styling was, by almost anyone’s standards, just awful.

I can only imagine what kind of landau-roofed madness Ford’s execs had in mind for the replacement; Peterson took a look at what the creative staff had been tasked to develop.

After examining some sketches, Petersen looked up at the designers and asked, “Are you proud of these?’ There was a pause. In big corporations, people are handsomely paid not to say what they think.

“No. I’m embarrassed by them,’ Jack Telnack, Ford’s chief of design, answered. Then the designers wheeled out clay models of a different type of Thunderbird –aerodynamically smooth, European influenced. There was even a sporty version configured for the BMW crowd with a small high-tech engine, a five-speed transmission, and no chrome. When was the last time anyone saw a stick in a Thunderbird? Maybe 1956.

This Thunderbird design represented everything cars are supposed to be and Detroit products never are. Functionality. Taking the driver seriously. Appealing to the consumer’s better judgment, rather than the market research department’s lowest common denominator. Headquarters was bound to hate it.

Petersen said go ahead.

With that, the renaissance at Ford began. The Thunderbird would lead the way for the “aero revolution” with a style that looked more like a German car at the time than a product of Detroit.

The big news, though, was that the top-of-the-line T-Bird was not going to be some “Heritage” edition or similar with fender skirts and a vinyl roof. No, the Turbo Coupe was marketed as a grand touring two-door to be a sort of cut-rate BMW 635csi.

Bucket seats. Manual transmission with a shifter in a console on the floor. Alloy wheels and, under the hood, a turbocharged four-cylinder engine; essentially half the size of the standard mills in T-Birds from a few years before. This 2.3-liter “Pinto” four finally had fuel injection, which solved the problems of the carbureted “draw through” turbo motors offered from ’79 to ’82.

With 145 horsepower, it was still five short of the Windsor V8, but admittedly the lighter, more efficient, and “higher tech” engine was a far better fit for this sophisticated coupe’s image. Road & Track managed a zero to sixty run of 9.7 seconds, which is pretty bad until you realize that’s the same number the got out of their Camaro Z28 test car the year before! Welcome to the malaise.

The Fox chassis received some tweaks from the Mustang, most notably the “quad shock” rear end. These extra set of shocks acted as dampers to help control some of the nasty habits of a live axle, particularly the hopping you might get under power.

As was the case in much of the American malaise, the first aero ‘Birds were not perfect; far from it, actually. That turbo four was a bit clunky with all the lag you’d expect. The suspension, brakes, and wheel/tire combos could use some work. Worst of all, cash-strapped Ford had obviously run out of funds when it came to the instrument panel, which was shared with lesser Fox body products.

The tachometer in the center of the dash thankfully didn’t make production despite appearing in the ad, but that’s a good illustration of just how half-assed much of this early sports coupe was. The makers knew this, of course, and in this Golden Age of Ford products, they were continually making things better; for once, the potential of an American product would be fully realized. Well, almost.

The Bird Learns To Fly

Ford wasted little time getting the interior of the T-Bird right, and the new dash that appeared for 1985 was much more befitting of something dubbed a “sport coupe.” Note that Ford still offered the warning light system in front of the gear shift, but no longer put it into the charming “car shape” as on early Fox Mustangs and Escorts. Also, a factory graphic equalizer adds a cool factor to any car. The Turbo Coupe also gained another 15 horsepower for 1985.

For 1987, the Thunderbird was supposed to get a rather simple refresh to fill the gap before the all-new 1989 model arrived. However, the team somehow turned the $100 million “refresh” into a $250 million refurbishment. Supposedly, the way the team sold it to management was the fact that the new-for-1989 Thunderbird was going to be so advanced that they needed an interim model robust enough to bridge the gap. The changes were surprisingly simple but made a huge difference in the overall presentation of the car, both aesthetically and functionally.

Looking at the ’83 to ’86 car side by side with the new ’87, you can see how the subtle modifications added up to a major change.

The greenhouse got more flush glass, and the elongated quarter windows with sharper edges worked well with a new backlight.

Up front, the T-Bird finally got the flush headlamps that I’m sure the designers had in mind for the first 1983 model. While the standard ‘Bird kept a chrome grille, the Turbo Coupe’s hood was styled with a bulging center that spilled over the front to form a “beak” that reached the front bumper. Turbo Coupes also got slick-looking new alloys shod in 225 Goodyear “Gatorback” tires, which hinted at some of the mechanical changes underneath.

Under the hood, the turbo four now pulled air through an intercooler on a powertrain almost directly taken from the Mustang SVO. The 190 horsepower output was around the highest of any American blown four bangers, though automatic-equipped versions made do with only 150. Zero to sixty for the five-speed Turbo Coupe dropped to around eight seconds.

The nearly ten-year-old Fox platform received an adjustable suspension that required a much more extensive refurbishing of the front end than anyone had imagined. Here’s how Ford described it:

Programmed Ride Control (PRC), the automatic adjustable shock absorber system designed and patented by Ford Motor Company. The system utilizes low shock absorber damping under normal driving conditions to provide soft boulevard ride, automatically switching to firm damping when required for improved handling. The system’s microprocessor control module “learns” where the straight ahead steering wheel position is, allowing the system to respond to absolute steering wheel angle. A closed loop control strategy is used to improve system reliability and to notify the driver in the event of a system malfunction. Fast acting rotary solenoids control the damping rate of the shock absorbers.

Ford didn’t stop there. Disc brakes found their way onto the rear axle, and an early anti-lock brake system was standard in the Turbo Coupe.

The press was impressed with the unexpected improvements to what was, in some ways, a lame duck product. Was it perfect? Well, no, and sadly, I think it probably could have been; I’ll get to that later.

Don’t Flip This Bird: It’s A Keeper

Forget even talking about “collector” status or Radwood cred: today, 1987 and ’88 Turbo Coupes sell for prices that are a bargain for good-looking, easy-to-maintain, nice-driving, comfortable transportation of any year, make, or model. Here’s what has to be one of the nicest and lowest mileage ones around (37,000 on the clock) that sold on Bring A Trailer a little while back:

That Twillight Blue paint is absurdly good with the contrasting red striping in the bumpers and rub strips. Just a stunning car in anybody’s book.

The only thing I can’t take is the lurid red cloth interior found in many Turbo Coupes, so this tasteful grey is much more to my liking. Also, I hated how the buttons on the doors looked like window switches but were actually the door locks. The window toggles were stuck on the console amidst the mirror and seat controls.

Note that the hood intakes are functional and feed air to the 190-horsepower four in this five-speed example.

The selling price? Only $16,200 for this low-mileage Turbo Coupe. Others with more miles or less desirable colors or an automatic trans will sell for low teens, or even close to ten. You’ll probably pay more for equivalent examples of the Turbo Coupe’s less classy Mustang GT or LX 5.0 brothers and get less car for your money. Hell, you’ll pay more for a late model crossover that you’ll lose in a parking lot.

Two Cylinders Short Of Greatness?

If there’s one regret with the last ninth-generation Thunderbird Turbo Coupe, it has to be the word in the middle of the name. While it’s certainly impressive that Ford got nearly 200 horsepower out of a four in 1987, more than one publication complained about the expected lag and, even worse, the noise, vibration, and harshness of the Pinto motor. Ford was never going to add balance shafts to this old mill, especially with the all-new V6 turbo being developed for the upcoming model.

To me, the answer was right under their, well, beak. Yes, I know that an old Ford five-point-oh didn’t have the “high tech” image the Turbo Coupe was going for. I also know that Ford likely wanted to keep the 225-horsepower “high output” 302 exclusive to the Mustang or push buyers to the more expensive Lincoln Mark VII, which was the only other Fox-body with that engine. Yes, a V8-powered old-school-muscle-in-a-European-suit sports Thunderbird might have been an odd chocolate-and-peanut-butter combination, but Reece’s candies are pretty damn good, ain’t they?

Despite the deficiencies of the powertrain, you have to admire the ’87 Turbo Coupe, and it’s easy to understand how it received the Motor Trend Car of the Year award. It’s an example of how some cars start out far from perfect, but God is in the details; work to get them right, and good ones can become great ones.

Top graphic image: Mecum Auctions