About me

I work with my hands. Yes, it’s tough, so hardly anyone likes getting their hands dirty any more. It would be easier to leave everything to machines, but handmade fenders have a soul. They have a shine, a feel, a touch that no factory can replicate. And that’s exactly why I love what I do.

Every day, when I step into my workshop, surrounded by the smell of oil, metal, and dusty blueprints, I feel alive. Every sheet of metal I bend, every groove I create, carries its character. There’s nothing more exciting than when a customer, an enthusiast, walks in and says, "Johnnie, I need something unique." That’s when the spark ignites. It’s no longer just work; it becomes an art.

A fender isn’t just protection against mud and rain. It’s the bike’s signature, part of its character. Every curve of the metal, every hammer stroke tells a story. Customers may never know how hard I worked to perfectly bend each edge, but when they start up the bike, it will be there—that feeling of something special.

And the best part? Every rider who comes to me brings their own story. Harley, Puch, Tomos—it doesn’t matter.

Every project is a unique challenge, and every fender reflects the customer’s vision and the bike’s needs. That’s what keeps me going. Bikes write their stories on the road, and I craft them with my hands, through every weld and every curve.

If you want the best for your bike, you're welcome at my workshop.

Johnnie

At first glance, it might not seem like anything special, I know. There are just four walls filled with tools, old blueprints, and sheets of metal waiting to be reshaped. But to me, this is more than just a space – it’s the centre of my world.

When you step inside, the first thing you’ll notice is the smell of oil and metal...

The air is filled with sounds – grinding, hammering, the gentle creaking of metal under pressure. Every corner holds a story. Over there in the corner is the old workbench where I made my first fender ten years ago. It has seen hundreds of projects since, but it still handles everything I throw at it.

The walls are lined with tools, some old, some new, but each has a story. There’s the hammer I used to shape a fender for my first Harley, and over there are the special pliers I used to finish my favourite project. Every tool is part of my journey, part of every fender that has left this workshop.

My favourite part? The stand is where the metal begins its transformation. That’s where the sheet metal bends, takes shape, and adapts to the bike and the rider’s desires. That’s where the details are born, those small touches that make the difference between an average piece and an unforgettable one.

My workshop isn’t modern, it isn’t flashy. There are no robots or high-tech machines here. But what’s here is what truly matters – hands that know how to make each piece unique, how to breathe life into metal and turn it into something that will become part of a rider’s story.