Buzzsaws sounded less intimidating than those edgy old Taurus SHOs with shrieking aftermarket exhausts.

Remember those sleeper Ford sedans from the early '90s with 7,000-rpm Yamaha V-6s, five-speed manuals and as much handling cling as straight-line zing – a rarity for any front-wheel-drive sedan?

As the owner of a 5-liter Mustang back then, I hated those things. Most looked as if they should be slumped on a parking lot at First Middle-of-the-Road Methodist Church, sitting amid dispirited Buicks and Mercurys.

Then one would go screaming past you, tearing into corners with an evil grin at speeds guaranteed to make my Mustang shake, rattle and roll.

As you may recall, the cult-classic SHO was a happy coincidence. Ford had bought a bunch of 220-horsepower Yamaha V-6 engines for a planned two-seat competitor to the Pontiac Fiero.

Ford

The Taurus SHO can get to 60 mph in a scant 5.1 seconds, according to Car and Driver – about 1.5 seconds faster than the original.

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When the Fiero fizzled, Ford had to find a home for those pricey little motors, and the SHO was Dear-born, so to speak – a history lesson that President Greenjeans and his button-pushers might want to consider in their manipulations of the domestic auto industry.

It was great improvisational theater. No front-wheel-drive midsize sedan from that period was better at carving corners. In fact, the SHO was the third-fastest sedan in the U.S. in those days, running slightly behind the BMW M5 and 750iL.

And there was always something wonderfully sinister about the sober-looking SHO – a lump of plastic explosives wrapped in the Wall Street Journal.

But with the arrival of the 2010 Taurus SHO – the first new Super High Output Taurus in a decade – we will need to substantially revise the résumé.

Don't get me wrong. The new car generates all kinds of SHO-ey numbers. For one, it gets Ford's impressive EcoBoost 3.5-liter V-6, which combines high compression (10:1), direct fuel injection and twin turbochargers to produce 365 very strong horsepower.

Bolted to a sophisticated-feeling six-speed automatic and all-wheel-drive, the fiery six can propel the Taurus SHO to 60 mph in a scant 5.1 seconds, according to Car and Driver – about 1.5 seconds faster than the original.

But those numbers are just part of the story. The other relevant measure is the car's weight: 4,350 pounds, or nearly 1,000 pounds more than the original Taurus.

What we see here, boys and girls, is a vastly different SHO – a decent triathlete who became a hot-trotting powerlifter.

My early-production SHO – with a base price of $37,995 – arrived in a smoky shade of metallic grayish-blue with a black interior.

I liked the looks of the car. The slightly raised, powerful hood and distinctive three-bar grille set a "big-and-bad" tone.

Though the body is thick and tall, it wears its bulk pretty well. A crisp character line beneath the door handles and another above the rocker panels visually stretch the body – as does the SHO's rakish roof line.

Mine was also fitted with meaty 255/45 tires on 19-inch wheels, which, from 20 feet or so, make the car look a little smaller.

But walk around the SHO a couple of times for a better perspective. The top of the rear fenders hit me between my elbow and shoulder.

Granted, I tower 67 inches above the ground, but this is a car that can accurately be described as handsome and huge.

Inside, a large center console sweeps into the dashboard, giving the front-seat area a cockpit feel. In back, the head- and leg-room felt expansive.

We probably can't quibble much about the material and overall quality that Ford is bestowing on its interiors these days. The plastic on the dash was pretty average, but the center stack was a jazzy-looking black that contrasted nicely with patterned aluminum trim on the dashboard.

Moreover, everything inside seemed to fit tightly, with uniform seams and gaps.

And man, is this thing quiet – too quiet, in fact, for me. With the windows up and sunroof closed, I couldn't hear the high-performance SHO at idle.

Think of it as a strong, silent type, I guess. Punch the throttle hard, and the SHO bounds away with intensity.

Thanks to that static 10:1 engine compression – high even before the turbochargers really start squeezing things – the SHO has no lag, pulling to 6,000 rpm or so like a meth-fueled bank robber on the run.

That under-hood sizzle seems to melt away some of the SHO's weight. Although the steering feels a little thick, it is quick and precise, making it easy to place this big sedan where you want it.

In corners, the firm-riding SHO leans some but settles into a groove nicely, thanks partly to the stability of all-wheel drive.

Still, cruising in this car may be more fun than cutting loose. In a straight line, the SHO rides like a big BMW, moving fluidly over bumps with a muted thump.

I'm pretty sure, in fact, that I could transport my geezer baby boomer buddies to Luby's in record time and not jostle a single denture, implant or altered artery.

Ford says EcoBoost delivers the power of a V-8 with the mileage of a V-6. With a rating of 17 miles per gallon city, 25 highway, the SHO struggles to deliver on that promise.

But, hey, this is a big, brash, sophisticated American sedan. Like most of us, it has grown larger over the decades. Happily, it still has that street-fighter spring in its step.