In the fall of 1997, a parade of seven mid-size sedans rolled past a bystander who thought they were all the same car. That single detail, buried in Car and Driver’s freshly republished 1998 comparison test, tells you everything about a segment that once defined the American automotive landscape — and how brutally competitive it was even when every contender looked like a bar of soap.
Car and Driver’s archive photo gallery, resurfaced with Aaron Kiley’s original photography, pits the Ford Contour GL, Oldsmobile Cutlass GLS, Mazda 626LX, Dodge Stratus ES, Nissan Altima GXE, Toyota Camry LE, and Honda Accord LX against each other. Seven sedans, seven different philosophies, and a spread of power ranging from a wheezy 125 horses to a relatively muscular 168.
The Accord won. Of course it did.
Honda’s freshly redesigned 1998 Accord LX was the roomiest car in the test, the most engaging to drive, and the only entry to meet California’s Low-Emission Vehicle standard of the day. Its 150-hp 2.3-liter four-cylinder didn’t lead on paper, but the whole package — firm seats, excellent driving position, expansive outward visibility — made everything else feel like it was playing catch-up. Car and Driver’s original verdict was blunt: this was a car other automakers needed to stretch to match.

The Dodge Stratus ES came in swinging with the most power, its 168-hp 2.5-liter V-6 paired to a four-speed automatic featuring AutoStick for manual gear selection. Dodge was actually trying something in those years, and it showed. But ambition and execution are different currencies, and the Stratus spent them at different rates.
At the bottom, the Ford Contour GL earned harsh marks for a harsh ride. A 125-hp inline-four, cramped back seat, and front seats that pinched your backside made the low sticker price feel like exactly what it was — a concession. Ford couldn’t even be bothered to update the radio; the Contour still wore last-generation switchgear with buttons too small to find without looking down. Cheap is one thing. Careless is another.
The Oldsmobile Cutlass GLS stretched more than three inches longer than anything else in the group, retailed just under $20,000, and packed a 150-hp 3.1-liter V-6. It finished second in space and comfort but its leather seats were hard and slippery — a fitting metaphor for a brand that was already losing its grip on relevance. Within six years, Oldsmobile would be dead.
Nissan’s Altima GXE was the smallest sedan in the field but punched above its dimensions. Responsive steering, good brakes, supportive cloth seats, and what the editors called “pretty nice fake wood trim” — a phrase that could only exist in 1998 without irony. The Altima was labeled “a car for driving,” which in this crowd was high praise.

Toyota’s Camry LE did what the Camry always does: nothing wrong. Smooth, refined, low-key, with interior fittings that gave it an entry-level Lexus feel. Its 133-hp four-cylinder wouldn’t set anyone’s pulse racing, but that was never the point. The Camry was a financial instrument disguised as transportation, and it worked.
The Mazda 626LX looked soft, felt soft, rode soft. Its driving position sat too low and offered too little support. At 125 horsepower from a 2.0-liter four, it matched the Contour at the bottom of the power chart without the Contour’s excuse of bargain pricing.
What strikes you looking back isn’t how different these cars were. It’s how seriously every manufacturer took the mid-size sedan. Seven companies built seven cars targeting the same buyer, and the margins between triumph and mediocrity were measured in seat bolster firmness and radio button size. That bystander who couldn’t tell them apart was wrong, but only barely — and only if you were paying attention.







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