Autocruise Starspirit (2011)
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Description
Autocruise Star Starspirit 2011
Key Features
Model Year
2011
Product Class
Low Profile
Product Model Base
Peugeot Boxer
Price from (£)
£39826
Length (m)
6.47
Berths
2
Belted seats
2
Main Layout
Rear Lounge
Full Review
Mike Le Caplain puts the 2011 Autocruise Starspirit through its paces...
It's an immutable truism that you cannot truly know a motorhome’s innate strengths and weaknesses until you’ve spent a day or two actually living in the thing. It’s a maxim I’ve worked by for some time, now, but my recent test of Autocruise’s new, yet suspiciously familiar-sounding Starspirit has forced me to amend this policy. Simply put, it’s now my firm belief that you cannot truly know a motorhome until you’ve lived in it when the mercury has plummeted well below zero. Preferably with a few inches of snow thrown into the mix for good measure.
No prizes for guessing, then, the sort of meteorological conditions under which this month’s Weekend Away test was conducted. I should have guessed what the coming week had in store for me when, during the initially sunny hour or so’s walk from my house to Which Motorhome Towers where the freshly delivered Autocruise was waiting, the sky turned black and the enormous volume of snow that tumbled out of it shortly thereafter reduced visibility to mere inches. It later transpired that what actually awaited me in the car park was not an Autocruise Starspirit, but a large lump of snow whose outline described a vague motorhome-esque shape.
HOW DOES IT DRIVE?
Fast forward less than 24 hours, and your roving reporter is tackling the B676 between Colsterworth and Melton Mowbray under what can only be described as white-out blizzard conditions. My average speed is in single figures, vehicles all around me are failing to make it up even the mild inclines that pass for hills in these parts, and the Starspirit’s wipers are a metronomic blur, its headlights ablaze.
We are, however, still moving, even if said movement does increasingly look as though it should comprise a hasty three-point turn performed in a handy farmyard, ahead of an equally hasty retreat back home.
The Starspirit, however, appears oblivious to the appalling weather. Its skinny tyres are cutting through the thick gloop on the road and somehow managing to find traction more often than not, bereft as they are of any form of electronic traction control – or, indeed, the Al-Ko low-line chassis that’s fitted as standard to its much pricier Star Plus siblings. The optional cab air-con is keeping the windows safely fog-free, too.
The snow has eased off considerably by the time I reach the M5, so I cautiously open the taps a little wider and am astounded to discover that, far from being the mobile chicane I suspected I might be (standard power comes courtesy of the 100bhp engine, with no option to upgrade), we’re actually rowing along rather nicely.
The motorhome is far from fully laden, but there’s a healthy enough load on board and we’re still managing an easy (if rather noisy – with a five-speed gearbox, not the preferable six-speeder) cruise-controlled 70mph. Our average rate of fuel consumption will hover consistently around the 25-27mpg mark for the duration of the trip, too – impressive, given that it had precisely seven miles on the clock when I started out and will therefore loosen up as the miles accrue.
One thing I can’t help noticing, however, is that the main entrance door gives every impression of being slightly ajar when you’re on the move. Repeated checks reveal that it is, in fact, firmly latched, but the combined din of road roar and whispering, hissing slushy snow appears to suggest otherwise.
WATER ETC
I arrive at my base for the trip – the Camping and Caravanning Club’s Blackmore site in the Malverns – surprisingly on time, but it’s then that the Autocruise blots its copybook. My usual habit of filling the fresh water tank at home was scuppered by the big freeze, so I have to take on water at the site, only to discover that the fresh tank drain valve (which is open, naturally) is so deeply inset under the rear of the vehicle that you have to get on your hands and knees and crawl underneath to reach it.
I go on to compound matters by failing to check that the boiler drain is closed (it wasn’t) before igniting it, and end up losing a quarter of my Adam’s Ale all over my pitch. Still, at least the silly trigger-type fresh water connection that blighted my summer holiday in a 2009 Sportstar (now discontinued) has been replaced, here, by a simple open fill-point.
From here, matters improve apace. The light is already fading by the time I’ve cranked up the heating, demolished a quick lunch and set up my camera gear, so I decide to spend the rest of the afternoon pointing the Pentax at the Starspirit’s interior. Apart from anything, the state of the Starspirit’s exterior suggests I’ve recently been indulging in a spot of rallying, and is therefore most definitely not ready for its close-up.
It’s as I’m about to commit the view forward from the lounge to memory card that a circuit is suddenly completed in my head; I’ve been here before.
DEJA VU
One of my first-ever Which Motorcaravan (as it was then known) comparison tests was back in our March 2007 issue between an Auto-Sleeper Ascot and an Autocruise Starspirit. Plenty has changed since then (not least in terms of who actually owns the company), but the basic elements remain broadly the same: Peugeot base vehicle (although interestingly, the earlier model sported a 120bhp engine and six-speed gearbox), U-shaped rear lounge, nearside kitchen (L-shaped back then) and washroom opposite.
Basking in the warm glow of an unexpected stroll down memory lane, I set to work. Later, I reflect further on that earlier test as I relax in the new model’s end lounge with my iPod plugged in (the mains socket is near the boiler/heater controls) and a glass of Pinot Grigio. It was pretty wintry back then, as I recall, but nothing like this. Stars are sparkling out of a clear sky that is already adding a frosty crust to the Malvern snow, meaning the temperature must be in free-fall. And yet here I am, clad in T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, with the heating on the highest electric setting, but the blown-air fan cranked all the way down. Earlier, I had to turn the gas fire off after just an hour or so, because I was perspiring. All very impressive, then, but no more than you’d expect of a true, blue-blooded Autocruise?
Well, true as that may be, the Starspirit is actually a bit of a sleeper with a naughty secret – peel away the silver exterior jewellery and replace the high-quality interior cabinetry with something a little less whizz-bang, and what you’re left with is a Swift Sundance 580PR, much the same as the one we tested back in the May 2010 issue. It’s even (whisper it) built on the same Mexborough production line...
And yet, for all that, it’s still a nice place to be after dark. The all-LED lighting is plentiful and warm, meaning you only really need to deploy the large ceiling light at mealtimes, and I’m a big fan of the oatmeal upholstery that’s enlivened by a black strip and suitably contrasting scatter cushions.
The blinds are all high-quality pleated items (one or two are a little sticky in operation on this early example), although having silver side-screens up front (the windscreen is covered by a cassette blind) turns out to be a mixed blessing: they might be a bit of a faff to attach (via press studs), but they eliminate the endless on-road rattling that seems to accompany most cassette blinds.
THE KITCHEN
I could recline in splendour in the ’Cruise’s lounge all evening, but the inner man needs satisfying. More serious cooks than me will no doubt nod appreciatively at the Starspirit’s compact but very well equipped kitchen; the departure from the earlier model’s L-shape looks like a retrograde step from a worktop perspective, initially, until you clock the removable plastic draining board and discreet fold-up flap by the door. But elsewhere, the 112-litre Thetford fridge (which always seems to me to be much more intuitive in use than the Dometic equivalent), dual-fuel cooker (complete with separate oven and grill) and plentiful high and low storage all impress.
The main table’s home is discreet, and turns out (after a minute or two’s increasingly exasperated searching) to be beneath the offside settee. It’s a good idea in theory, but some sort of retaining strap is needed to stop one of the legs from constantly dropping down in situ.
THE BEDS
The yawns are coming thick and fast by 11pm, so I decide to call it a night. My earlier photo endeavours have already revealed the available sleeping options: a massive 6ft 8in by 5ft 10in double, or one of two 2ft 2inwide singles: one measuring 5ft 10in in length and one measuring 6ft 2in.
Opting for the latter, I can’t help thinking, as I wriggle down under the duvet retrieved from the enormous overcab locker, that history has repeated itself, here. I distinctly remember bemoaning the fact that making up the double bed in the 2007 model left you with half a hundredweight of bulky cushions to find homes for, and nothing has changed with the new model. Making up the singles is easier, although you run the risk of clopping your head a good one on the wooden shelves either side of the rear window.
Next morning, I’m impressed to discover that the insulated underslung fresh water tank has kept its promise and left me with 90 litres of free-running water, and not merely a block of ice. I’m equally impressed that leaving the electric heating on low overnight has kept the interior toasty warm, even if the washroom is rather more sauna-roasting. And here I discover one area in which the 2007-vintage Starspirit most definitely has the upper hand over the Starspirit of today.
WASHROOM
Back then, the Starspirit’s littlest room sported a brilliant swing-wall arrangement that created a ‘separate’ shower simply by hauling out the entire washbasin/vanity unit. This set-up remained up until last year, but the new model’s Swift DNA means that it gets the same bulky fixed washbasin and flimsy folding door (which merely shields the toilet from the worst of the shower over-spray, rather than forming a proper cubicle) as the equivalent Sundance. Worse, the showerhead doubles as the washbasin tap, meaning water is more likely to trickle down the resultant gap into the large cupboard beneath. In every respect, this is an inferior design – so why do it?
On the plus side, there’s a degree of open storage to the right of the bench loo, which sports a huge wheeled holding tank, while lighting is generous to say the least.
To watch Which Motorhome's video review of the Autocruise Starspirit click here.
To read the full motorhome review in PDF format exactly as it appeared in the February 2011 issue of Which Motorhome, click here.
If you don't already have Adode Acrobat to be able to open a PDF, download it for free
It's an immutable truism that you cannot truly know a motorhome’s innate strengths and weaknesses until you’ve spent a day or two actually living in the thing. It’s a maxim I’ve worked by for some time, now, but my recent test of Autocruise’s new, yet suspiciously familiar-sounding Starspirit has forced me to amend this policy. Simply put, it’s now my firm belief that you cannot truly know a motorhome until you’ve lived in it when the mercury has plummeted well below zero. Preferably with a few inches of snow thrown into the mix for good measure.
No prizes for guessing, then, the sort of meteorological conditions under which this month’s Weekend Away test was conducted. I should have guessed what the coming week had in store for me when, during the initially sunny hour or so’s walk from my house to Which Motorhome Towers where the freshly delivered Autocruise was waiting, the sky turned black and the enormous volume of snow that tumbled out of it shortly thereafter reduced visibility to mere inches. It later transpired that what actually awaited me in the car park was not an Autocruise Starspirit, but a large lump of snow whose outline described a vague motorhome-esque shape.
HOW DOES IT DRIVE?
Fast forward less than 24 hours, and your roving reporter is tackling the B676 between Colsterworth and Melton Mowbray under what can only be described as white-out blizzard conditions. My average speed is in single figures, vehicles all around me are failing to make it up even the mild inclines that pass for hills in these parts, and the Starspirit’s wipers are a metronomic blur, its headlights ablaze.
We are, however, still moving, even if said movement does increasingly look as though it should comprise a hasty three-point turn performed in a handy farmyard, ahead of an equally hasty retreat back home.
The Starspirit, however, appears oblivious to the appalling weather. Its skinny tyres are cutting through the thick gloop on the road and somehow managing to find traction more often than not, bereft as they are of any form of electronic traction control – or, indeed, the Al-Ko low-line chassis that’s fitted as standard to its much pricier Star Plus siblings. The optional cab air-con is keeping the windows safely fog-free, too.
The snow has eased off considerably by the time I reach the M5, so I cautiously open the taps a little wider and am astounded to discover that, far from being the mobile chicane I suspected I might be (standard power comes courtesy of the 100bhp engine, with no option to upgrade), we’re actually rowing along rather nicely.
The motorhome is far from fully laden, but there’s a healthy enough load on board and we’re still managing an easy (if rather noisy – with a five-speed gearbox, not the preferable six-speeder) cruise-controlled 70mph. Our average rate of fuel consumption will hover consistently around the 25-27mpg mark for the duration of the trip, too – impressive, given that it had precisely seven miles on the clock when I started out and will therefore loosen up as the miles accrue.
One thing I can’t help noticing, however, is that the main entrance door gives every impression of being slightly ajar when you’re on the move. Repeated checks reveal that it is, in fact, firmly latched, but the combined din of road roar and whispering, hissing slushy snow appears to suggest otherwise.
WATER ETC
I arrive at my base for the trip – the Camping and Caravanning Club’s Blackmore site in the Malverns – surprisingly on time, but it’s then that the Autocruise blots its copybook. My usual habit of filling the fresh water tank at home was scuppered by the big freeze, so I have to take on water at the site, only to discover that the fresh tank drain valve (which is open, naturally) is so deeply inset under the rear of the vehicle that you have to get on your hands and knees and crawl underneath to reach it.
I go on to compound matters by failing to check that the boiler drain is closed (it wasn’t) before igniting it, and end up losing a quarter of my Adam’s Ale all over my pitch. Still, at least the silly trigger-type fresh water connection that blighted my summer holiday in a 2009 Sportstar (now discontinued) has been replaced, here, by a simple open fill-point.
From here, matters improve apace. The light is already fading by the time I’ve cranked up the heating, demolished a quick lunch and set up my camera gear, so I decide to spend the rest of the afternoon pointing the Pentax at the Starspirit’s interior. Apart from anything, the state of the Starspirit’s exterior suggests I’ve recently been indulging in a spot of rallying, and is therefore most definitely not ready for its close-up.
It’s as I’m about to commit the view forward from the lounge to memory card that a circuit is suddenly completed in my head; I’ve been here before.
DEJA VU
One of my first-ever Which Motorcaravan (as it was then known) comparison tests was back in our March 2007 issue between an Auto-Sleeper Ascot and an Autocruise Starspirit. Plenty has changed since then (not least in terms of who actually owns the company), but the basic elements remain broadly the same: Peugeot base vehicle (although interestingly, the earlier model sported a 120bhp engine and six-speed gearbox), U-shaped rear lounge, nearside kitchen (L-shaped back then) and washroom opposite.
Basking in the warm glow of an unexpected stroll down memory lane, I set to work. Later, I reflect further on that earlier test as I relax in the new model’s end lounge with my iPod plugged in (the mains socket is near the boiler/heater controls) and a glass of Pinot Grigio. It was pretty wintry back then, as I recall, but nothing like this. Stars are sparkling out of a clear sky that is already adding a frosty crust to the Malvern snow, meaning the temperature must be in free-fall. And yet here I am, clad in T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, with the heating on the highest electric setting, but the blown-air fan cranked all the way down. Earlier, I had to turn the gas fire off after just an hour or so, because I was perspiring. All very impressive, then, but no more than you’d expect of a true, blue-blooded Autocruise?
Well, true as that may be, the Starspirit is actually a bit of a sleeper with a naughty secret – peel away the silver exterior jewellery and replace the high-quality interior cabinetry with something a little less whizz-bang, and what you’re left with is a Swift Sundance 580PR, much the same as the one we tested back in the May 2010 issue. It’s even (whisper it) built on the same Mexborough production line...
And yet, for all that, it’s still a nice place to be after dark. The all-LED lighting is plentiful and warm, meaning you only really need to deploy the large ceiling light at mealtimes, and I’m a big fan of the oatmeal upholstery that’s enlivened by a black strip and suitably contrasting scatter cushions.
The blinds are all high-quality pleated items (one or two are a little sticky in operation on this early example), although having silver side-screens up front (the windscreen is covered by a cassette blind) turns out to be a mixed blessing: they might be a bit of a faff to attach (via press studs), but they eliminate the endless on-road rattling that seems to accompany most cassette blinds.
THE KITCHEN
I could recline in splendour in the ’Cruise’s lounge all evening, but the inner man needs satisfying. More serious cooks than me will no doubt nod appreciatively at the Starspirit’s compact but very well equipped kitchen; the departure from the earlier model’s L-shape looks like a retrograde step from a worktop perspective, initially, until you clock the removable plastic draining board and discreet fold-up flap by the door. But elsewhere, the 112-litre Thetford fridge (which always seems to me to be much more intuitive in use than the Dometic equivalent), dual-fuel cooker (complete with separate oven and grill) and plentiful high and low storage all impress.
The main table’s home is discreet, and turns out (after a minute or two’s increasingly exasperated searching) to be beneath the offside settee. It’s a good idea in theory, but some sort of retaining strap is needed to stop one of the legs from constantly dropping down in situ.
THE BEDS
The yawns are coming thick and fast by 11pm, so I decide to call it a night. My earlier photo endeavours have already revealed the available sleeping options: a massive 6ft 8in by 5ft 10in double, or one of two 2ft 2inwide singles: one measuring 5ft 10in in length and one measuring 6ft 2in.
Opting for the latter, I can’t help thinking, as I wriggle down under the duvet retrieved from the enormous overcab locker, that history has repeated itself, here. I distinctly remember bemoaning the fact that making up the double bed in the 2007 model left you with half a hundredweight of bulky cushions to find homes for, and nothing has changed with the new model. Making up the singles is easier, although you run the risk of clopping your head a good one on the wooden shelves either side of the rear window.
Next morning, I’m impressed to discover that the insulated underslung fresh water tank has kept its promise and left me with 90 litres of free-running water, and not merely a block of ice. I’m equally impressed that leaving the electric heating on low overnight has kept the interior toasty warm, even if the washroom is rather more sauna-roasting. And here I discover one area in which the 2007-vintage Starspirit most definitely has the upper hand over the Starspirit of today.
WASHROOM
Back then, the Starspirit’s littlest room sported a brilliant swing-wall arrangement that created a ‘separate’ shower simply by hauling out the entire washbasin/vanity unit. This set-up remained up until last year, but the new model’s Swift DNA means that it gets the same bulky fixed washbasin and flimsy folding door (which merely shields the toilet from the worst of the shower over-spray, rather than forming a proper cubicle) as the equivalent Sundance. Worse, the showerhead doubles as the washbasin tap, meaning water is more likely to trickle down the resultant gap into the large cupboard beneath. In every respect, this is an inferior design – so why do it?
On the plus side, there’s a degree of open storage to the right of the bench loo, which sports a huge wheeled holding tank, while lighting is generous to say the least.
To watch Which Motorhome's video review of the Autocruise Starspirit click here.
To read the full motorhome review in PDF format exactly as it appeared in the February 2011 issue of Which Motorhome, click here.
If you don't already have Adode Acrobat to be able to open a PDF, download it for free
Our Verdict
The great lounge layout of the Starspirit works well, but the washroom could be better.
Advantages
Great U-shaped lounge
All-LED lighting conserves power
Domestic-style cooker
Disadvantages
Washroom has poorly designed screen and no separate shower head
