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The Tempo Stylistically the Tempo (and its slightly upscale twin over at Mercury called the Topaz), looked like smaller versions of Europe’s Sierra when seen in GL or GLS sedan trim. Available as a four door sedan or two door coupe, the Tempo/Topaz was the first to usher in the jellybean styling trend at Ford. The ‘Vulcan’ engine was good for 135 hp, making the Tempo almost competitive as a low-budget performance sedan/coupe (on paper). Ford never intended it to be a Mazda 626 GT fighter, but it did look sporty when fitted There are basically two generations of Tempo.   It hit the core of the American market where the Tempo was not much larger than the Escort, but promised some bigigger car style, comfort and performance. Even the 3 or four speed manual could not endow the Tempo with the illusion of speed. Even the Escort had made the Tempo redundant with its larger sedan versions by the early 90′s. By now the Tempo looked like a smaller, less interesting version of the Taurus. The Escort and Taurus evolved while the Tempo made do with reshuffling of trim options and other minor changes after 1988. ‘Style and Technology in total harmony’, was the tagline for Tempo advertising as it pushed American’s early awareness of aerodynamic design into the mainstream. 37 for the sedan helped with The innovative Tempo was highly regarded for its packaging, but was never lauded for performance. Early advertising touted popular race driver Jackie Stewart putting the Tempo through its paces on a Mid-Ohio like track. The rest of the small sedan market had caught up and surpassed the Tempo, especially the Japanese with the standard setting Civic and Corollas using multi-valve engines with dual overhead cams. Not that the Tempo was a bad car, it just was not keeping up with the rapidly evolving competition.

One one hand I hung out with egghead intellectuals and self-styled rebels and poets. ) to drive the thing on city streets from our house in Lake Floresta, through Royal Oak Hills, down Camino Real to Dixie Highway and thence to the west entrance of Royal Palm Yacht & Country Club. My friend D. C. Hall, a rich boy from Palm Beach, and I had a routine down pat. On the other hand I was down with the good ol' boy gearheads and rednecks.