Remember that neighbor, Mr. What’s-His-Name? You know, the guy
who lived down the street, kept his house up and yard clean, said
“hello” whenever you walked past, and was never any trouble? A
rather pleasant fellow, he never stood out, or – for that matter
– caused you or your neighbors any worry. He was just there.
Say hello to one of Mr. What’s-His-Name’s vehicular
equivalents, the Dodge Stratus SXT. Don’t let the wedge shape
fool you, this coupe is as pleasantly innocuous and nondescript
as can be. The standard 2.4-liter inline four is surprisingly
strong in this application, and the five-speed manual gearbox
possesses ratios that make moving up or down the gears nearly
worry-free. It may not be the lightest, most direct, or even the
most precise gearbox in the world, but – as long as you don’t
rush it – it works just fine. Aided and abetted by a clutch that
engages smoothly and cleanly, the entire experience is…pleasant
and nondescript.
The engine is pretty similar, though it was a surprise to see
that the standard 2.4-liter four moves the Stratus around as well
as it does. It looks like Dodge’s Mr. What’s-His-Name has been
keeping in shape. Nothing too dramatic, mind you, just some mild
calisthenics. Enough to make a difference, but not enough to get
noticed. Much like the suspension, which has a nicely compliant
ride, but allows excessive roll in hard cornering.
The interior follows the same path, though you definitely
notice how the steeply raked windshield and sharply curved
roofline affect entering or exiting the cabin. And how this
combination makes you lean forward to see traffic lights, lean
your seat back farther than you otherwise would, and rub the
bruise on your temple after you knock your head while getting in
the car. Meanwhile, back seat passengers are given the luxury of
a tilt-slide right front seat to ease their way, and reasonable
head and leg room for what purports to be a sporty coupe. Of
course, from that vantage point they often remark on the light
colored headliner trimmed with a black plastic cap that covers
from B-pillar to B-pillar around the outer edge of the headliner.
Or the fact that this same dark plastic covers the A-pillars, but
in isolation.
Given time, there are other things you’ll discover. Like the
headlamps, which have more hot spots than Las Vegas. Or the
sunroof that snaps shut so hard you fear the glass panel has
broken, is controlled by a bargain-basement switch, and sits so
low and forward that you can almost use it as a viewing port.
Then there’s the instrument panel, with its big “Stratus”
nameplate attached to a sugar scoop-shaped box located high atop
the center of the panel. And suddenly you realize: This is the
same instrument panel found in the Mitsubishi Eclipse. Not only
is Mr. What’s-His-Name nondescript, he’s Japanese!