Turbochargers were something special. If you saw a car – it was once always a high-performance car – with a "turbo" badge on its fenders, you knew it was packing something extra. The whole point of the thing was to add power to an already powerful engine.
A Porsche 911 turbo, for instance.
Or a Buick Regal Grand National.
They were boosted – and you felt it. The turbo kicked in – and the surge of additional power applied g forces to your backside, usually accompanied by a high-pitched whistle and then a delightfully menacing pop as the wastegate dumped open to relieve the pressure – before it built to another spectacular crescendo of acceleration. If you hit the gas hard from a rolling start, the boost surge would often be enough to overwhelm traction and the tires would slip and smoke as you counter-steered to correct and held on for dear life.