Our Two Cents: 8 of Our Favorite Sedans

Whether it was due to early exposure or the fact that they’ve just had good taste from the get-go (looking at you, Sajeev), some of my colleagues have appreciated sedans for a long time. Others, like yours truly, took a while to come around to them. It’s likely, too, that our affinity has been amplified given the ever-rising beltlines and mass that comes with the onslaught of SUVs.

For no other reason than “it’s fun, let’s talk about it,” I asked my esteemed colleagues to sound off on their favorite four-door cars. Our picks covered a lot of ground—from the ’50s to today, concepts to high-volume units, fierce and sporting to slow and smooth, big to small—but there are dozens we didn’t mention. Let us know which sedan you’d take home or which one you’ve been lovingly caring for in the comments.

Kyle Goes Olds

While I’ve never been a more-door owner, I’ve never been against them. Just never needed one. But with some cash in hand and a purchase order requiring four doors, I would shop for a 1955 Oldsmobile Super 88 hardtop. No pillar in between to interfere with the styling and interior view, plus a 324-cubic-inch V-8 making over 200 hp under the hood. The two-tone paint is classic to me, and the whole package seems like a car that would be really fun to put miles on with regular use. — Kyle Smith

Relentless Pursuits

It was, is, and always will be the Lexus LS400 for me. I haven’t owned that many cars in my life, but of the few that I have, I only miss one of them: My 1997 LS400. That thing was an absolute beast—solid as an anvil, comfy as a well-loved couch, reliable as the day was long. You could click off whole states without a hint of discomfort, plugging along at serious speed the whole time. I bought mine with 196K on it and sold it just north of 200K. All it ever asked for beyond regular oil changes was a new idle air control valve and one lower ball joint.

I do a fair amount of driving from Traverse City to various downstate locations, and while the current fleet holds two good solutions (my wife’s 2013 Highlander and a little 2008 Hyundai Elantra that sips fuel like a push mower), neither of them can match the LS400 for sheer over-the-road prowess. I keep telling myself that if the right one comes up for sale, I’m jumping back into it without a second thought. — Nathan Petroelje

(Immediately after Nate posted this, executive editor Eric Weiner shared that someone we know is selling their LS400. No pressure, Nate. — Ed.)

“Two kidneys seems a bit redundant, don’t you think?” — Nate

Big Caddy

I have an affection for the 1989 Cadillac Brougham. These are not what you’d call “peak” Cadillacs by any measurement, but in one measurement that matters—swagger—they were top-shelf. These are big, boxy, full-frame Caddies that, by the late ’80s and early ’90s, were anachronisms of an earlier time. The outside was all angles and girth, complete with big vertical taillights, wire wheels, and a landau top. Inside was a trove of crushed velour and wood. Gold keys that came in a black leather pouch. An enormous column shifter. Tufted cushions so deep you could lose a whole roll of quarters in them. I was 15 when my close friend got the keys to his grandmother’s Caddy as a hand-me-down, and we cruised all over Philadelphia and South Jersey with it. (You can fit about seven high-school nerds in a Brougham, not including the trunk.) A land yacht in our friend group was an absolute vibe. — Eric Weiner

A Different Kind of Big Caddy

Like I mentioned up top, I didn’t always appreciate sedans. That changed in 1999, the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college, when I had an internship at USA Today working for the photography team. Between loading digital photos onto the computer, I’d go bug James Healey, who covered cars for the paper for decades, about letting me tag along with him on a car test. My last week there, he let me join him at Summit Point Raceway in Virginia to drive the whole Mercedes AMG fleet. The E55 and a day full of hot laps with pro drivers, along with a few efforts behind the wheel myself, opened my eyes to the fact that sedans could, in fact, be cool.

Today, a sedan sits at the top of my must-have car list. A brawler of a personality, ridiculously capable, but comfortable enough to haul around my 99-year-old grandmother: The Cadillac CT5-V Blackwing. (No, I haven’t taken Grandma Bea for a spin in one, but I know she’d love it.) Aside from its mouthful of a name, the 5VBW is utterly brilliant—an emotional, visceral blend of American muscle and luxury—and it merits a spot on any enthusiast’s list, regardless of door count. I’ll take a manual Precision Package in Radiant Red, please. — Eddy Eckart

Cam Goes Continental

1961 Lincoln Continental, with the suicide doors. If you’re gonna rock four doors, you’d better do it with class, and nothing is more sophisticated than suicide doors. These fourth-gen Contis are way cool. I don’t know much about them beyond their curb appeal, but that’s just one of the countless reasons why I’m friends with Sajeev. — Cameron Neveu

Sajeev Doesn’t Pick a Lincoln?

The Mehta family once had a ’61, so I approve of Cam’s recommendation. It also makes me want to shout out to my 1989 Continental for being the best-driving Conti ever made for bumpy and/or twisty roads, but that’s obviously not my choice for this article.

Instead, I will go with the Porsche Taycan. I have driven a couple, and they both left me gobsmacked. While the ones I drove couldn’t run with a Tesla Model S Plaid (apparently, there is the Turbo GT for that), and no sedan is likely to stomp on the Lucid Air Sapphire anytime soon, the Porsche Taycan has a level of refinement neither of the Tech Company-based automakers can touch. Porsche created the trifecta of finesse, quality, and mind-altering performance in a sedan.

Make mine paint-to-sample Turbo GT in Butterscotch with a cocoa interior and every option. Hmm, what’s the lottery jackpot up to these days? — Sajeev Mehta

Not All Good Sedans Are Big

There was a time when I wouldn’t even consider a four-door because all the cool cars just had two. With age and better styling from the manufacturers, I bought one. But just one.

When I worked for Car and Driver, I was assigned a 1998 Dodge Neon R/T with the 150-horsepower engine and a manual transmission. I had friends at Dodge breathe on it a little—adjustable Koni shocks, some software work, and I bought some sticky tires from Tire Rack—because I was doing a story on owning an economical daily driver that you could autocross on weekends. When it came time to give the car back to Dodge, I ended up buying it, and years later passed it on to my son. It eventually succumbed to Michigan salt-rust cancer, but it was fun while it lasted. (PS: Eddy was quicker on the trigger to claim the Cadillac Blackwing, my favorite current four-door.) — Steven Cole Smith

Four Twenty Seven

I’m a child of the mid-’90s, so many concepts from the early 2000s passed me by—among them, the Ford 427 from 2003. I hadn’t heard of it until I saw it in a parking garage at Ford’s global headquarters during a tour of its newly established U.S.-based heritage fleet, and it drew me to it like a magnet. Wide, low, and long, the monolithic sedan looks like a big-bore version of the 2005–2012 Fusion, which was only two years away from market. The 427 is 2000s design at its minimalist best, powered by an engine that, rather than displacing 427 cubic inches, makes 427 horsepower … from ten cylinders. It has the presence not of a Ford but of a Bentley, if a Bentley were milled from a single piece of aluminum and shot from a cannon on the Fourth of July. America!

If I had the budget to commission some hot-rod shop to create a never-realized concept, the 427 would be near the top of my list, though maybe with a more proven powertrain. — Grace Jarvis