Stone-cold killer: A Honda CL250 café racer with 3D-printed bodywork

For the last few years, the modern custom motorcycle scene has presented major OEMs with a whole new market in which to peddle their wares. We’re all familiar with the process; release a new motorcycle, run an in-brand customization contest with it, and show off the results at a major event. Lather, rinse, repeat.

These initiatives can produce predictably boring results. But they can also produce gems, like this honed Honda CL250 café racer from Turkey’s Bunker Custom Cycles.

The bike was created as part of, you guessed it, a European Honda customization contest. The brief was to customize a Honda CL500, but Bunker was given a concession to use its little brother, the Honda CL250, instead. Available only in Japan and Turkey, the CL250 closely resembles to the CL500, but trades the latter’s parallel-twin engine for a 249 cc single-cylinder mill.

Working with Honda Turkey, Bunker initially penned a design that would amplify the CL250’s neo-retro scrambler aesthetic. But Honda Turkey pushed back, reasoning that a bolder approach would have a bigger impact. After two months of back and forth, the parties settled on a modern café racer design instead.

“Our design approach was mainly to capture the style of racing bikes from the 60s to the 90s, when over-designing bikes wasn’t a thing” says Mert Uzer, who runs the Bunker workshop in Istanbul alongside his brother, Can. “The color scheme was also an extension of this era.”

21 renderings and 16 proposed color schemes later, Bunker was finally ready to bring their concept to life. “Our purpose was to relay the message that every design approach is possible with the CL250 platform,” Mert explains. “Even this kind of drastic change is possible.”

Looking to make their design easy to reproduce, Mert and Can opted to rely on 3D printing for the CL250’s new body kit; a departure from their usual process of making molds and hammering aluminum. “For body parts,” says Mert, “traditional manufacturing is a meticulous process, involving designing, planning, technical drawing, wooden model making, aluminum panel beating, mounting, and so on.”

“With analog methods like these, there’s no room for error—there’s no ‘CTRL-Z.’ When an error happens months of hard work can be wasted. But with digital methods, you can fail and try again, virtually.”

Finding the right material to print the parts out of was Bunker’s biggest challenge. After a few trial runs, they settled on a glass fiber-reinforced nylon, which they used to manufacture the Honda CL250’s new fairing, belly pan, seat pan, and tail cowl. For the fuel tank, they hacked up the OEM reservoir and used its bottom section as the foundation for a new 3D-printed cover.

Bunker re-housed the CL250’s LED headlight internals in the front of the fairing, then turned their attention to the taillight. It’s a bespoke piece that uses a combination of 3D-printed and hand-shaped polycarbonate bits, with an LED strip that includes integrated turn signals.

The bike’s wheels and forks come from a Honda CB250R and reportedly took some doing to fit. Bunker had to fabricate brake caliper adaptors and a new ABS sensor ring, and had to modify the stock top and bottom yokes. A new set of Öhlins shocks prop up the rear.

The contest’s rule prohibited any engine mods—but said nothing about modifying the exhaust. So Bunker took the stock headers and massaged them until the catalytic convertor was tucked away inside the new belly pan, with layers of kevlar fabric to keep the heat from damaging the bodywork. Gasses exit via a handmade muffler that pokes out the side of the belly pan.

Honda picked this year’s Wheels and Waves festival to show off the entries into their CL custom contest. Unsurprisingly, Bunker’s lithe CL250 café racer took home the gold. “Being a part of this competition and getting global recognition is definitely a plus,” says Mert, “but winning is something else.”

“As you can imagine, being a custom builder is a really isolated endeavor. While we are building these bikes we are quite confident and happy with the way we do things—but winning is proof that we are at least right about some aspects.”

Bunker Custom Cycles | Facebook | Instagram | Images by Kerem Albayrak

Sidecar Subject: Honda CL250 Based on the Honda Rebel 250, the Honda CL250 was first released in May 2023 as a modern scrambler, positioned as a contemporary take on the classic Honda CL scramblers of the 1960s and 1970s. It is currently only available in Japan and Turkey. Engine: 249 cc single-cylinder, liquid-cooled engine. Output: Approximately 23.67 hp at 8,500 rpm and 22.56 Nm of torque at 6,250 rpm. Performance focus: Tuned for strong low- to mid-range torque, similar to the CRF250L, making it suitable for both urban commuting and light off-road use. Design: Scrambler-style with a high-mounted exhaust, 19” front wheel, and upright riding position. Ground clearance: 165 mm, offering versatility for rougher terrain and light off-roading. Weight: 172 kg [379 lbs], creating a light and nimble feel for urban and light off-road use. Chassis: Derived from the Rebel 250 but with modifications for off-road capability, including wider handlebars for better control. Target audience: Ideal for beginners or those looking for a city scrambler.

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Simpatico: Solo Motorcycle’s Impeccable Norton Atlas Café Racer

The Norton Atlas has always been one of my forever dream bikes. This story started quite a long time ago, with the aborted purchase attempt at my first one.

After regrettably selling my Commando, I had gone about a year and a half without a bike. I had always lusted over owning a featherbed Norton special, built up as a period-correct café racer. One day my dear friend and longtime motorbike mentor, Bib, called me to say that he’d like to sell me an Atlas special that he had owned for some 20 years.

Some of you may know of Bib. Bill ‘Bib’ Bibbiani had cemented himself passionately in the Norton community as a rider, collector, and builder of iconic British iron, serving as the fearless leader of the famed Southern California Norton Owners Club.

We had talked about this particular bike too many times to remember, drooling about it during every visit to his house—its Dunstall seat and hot rod motor held in very high regard by us both. I was shocked that he’d be willing to sell it to me. But it only took two seconds for me to proclaim that I’d take it, gathering up every penny I could muster, booking a flight to California. Unable to contain myself, I anxiously waited to take possession of it, agreeing that I’d meet Bib at his house on Saturday morning.

After landing in L.A. early Friday, I spent the day with my best friend, talking his ear off about the bike. I tend to get carried away when I discuss these things. Coffee and donuts were our ritual, and as we sat at the usual establishment, I called Bib to triple-confirm that we were all set for the following day. His response was painful: “I can’t sell it. I cleaned the carbs and gave it a once-over as I prepared it for you, but after taking it for a ride, I decided I just couldn’t let it go.”

I’m sure there was an awkward pause on that call as I searched for an appropriate response. I had just scraped together every bit of money I could find and flown halfway across the country. But I couldn’t be mad; I respected it and would have felt the same way. “So where do we go from here?” I wondered. “Come up anyway,” Bib said. “I’ve got an idea.”

Saturday morning came and I headed to Bib’s with a mix of uncertainty and excitement. There was no bike to buy that day, but Bib told me he’d sell me a different bike, a project that perhaps we’d build together. I had previously discussed with him my desire to build a featherbed Norton—a genuine machine built with real and original parts, just like it would have been done when these bikes were contemporary.

Bib had always said that he’d never do such a thing; his preference was to build bikes as he saw fit and then sell them. He had no desire to deal with someone else’s opinion and all the headaches that came with it. But he was going to make an exception in this case, likely because we had known each other for years and he’d become sort of a father figure to me. I could also see he felt bad for going back on the deal we had already struck.

The journey began with Bib dragging out another Atlas he had tucked away. A pessimist by nature, I left his place feeling skeptical, knowing what it takes to rebuild one of these old bikes. There’d be a long road ahead, taking time, money, patience, and hard work from both of us to complete. But I enjoy the process and always have, so I knew that with the small collection of parts that I had already gathered and Bib’s experience, we could build a machine that we’d both be proud of.

A few months later I returned to Bib’s to see the Atlas that he had allocated to me. It sat with the original-paint frame, a solid core of a motor and magneto, and that was pretty much it; there was no front end, no tank, no wheels, no carbs, no seat, no fenders. You get the idea. It was so far from the dream bike that I had in my mind. I handed him an envelope full of my hard-earned money to give it the green light. Of course, he refused to count it; we had done this before, we were friends, practically family, and I’d never short him a dollar and he’d never have a second thought that I would. I sweetened the deal with a couple of cases of his favorite beer.

On cloud nine, we shook hands and parted ways. The plan was for each of us to work on certain aspects of the bike, thousands of miles apart. We’d get together at specific stages and apply our progress. My mind was racing with anticipation as I drove away with his beautiful California bungalow and small shed of Norton treasures in the rear-view mirror.

As I cleared the on-ramp onto the freeway, my phone rang. It was my mother, calling to tell me that my grandfather had just passed away. He suffered from Alzheimer’s for many years, and losing him was devastating. We were close, and I’ve never had so much respect and admiration for another person in my entire life. Except maybe Bib. The two came together at that moment—Bib reminding me of my grandfather; the significance of both of them to me had been reinforced. The close proximity of both events added a layer of importance to what I was about to build.

Over the course of the next 14 months, Bib and I got to work. We bickered along the way as to what was right and what was wrong, him winning nearly all the arguments. He was set in his ways and had decades of experience that I had to respect.

Besides, I knew that no matter what we built, I’d likely evolve it once it was ‘finished’ in order to get what I really wanted. Bib liked to set most of his bikes up with Mikuni carburetors, which I hate. He wanted the primary to be chrome, which I hate. He wanted to run an 18″ rear wheel, which I hate. He wanted to use short reverse-cone megaphones, which I, well, dislike. Lots of little things like that, coupled with a few changes based on parts that we either could or could not find at the time, determined the outcome of the bike’s first iteration.

After just over a year of blood, sweat and tears, the day had come for me to take full-time ownership of its care. On my way, my buddy’s truck broke down. I called Bib. He told me not to worry, he’d deliver it to me. As we backed it down the ramp of his trusty pickup, I was nervous about the impending moment of truth: kicking it and riding off in front of your mentor. But all went well, and that first ride was the purest of satisfaction. We had done it. We had conspired to build my dream bike, and at the same time, rescued another discarded machine.

I’ll never forget the last touch. Bib handed me the tank badges, saving their placement for me alone. It was a thoughtful gesture that marked the passing of this machine from him to me—far more important and significant than the official signing over of the title. We spent hours talking, obviously he didn’t want to leave. It was difficult for him to be done with it. After some time, we shook hands and I think I might have even given him a hug. It was that sort of moment.

These photos show the bike as it sits today, some ten years later, finally done in my eyes. It’s evolved to be what I’d always held in my dreams: an honest machine, not overly restored, and certainly no trailer queen.

We rebuilt and restored everything that needed to be redone, but didn’t do anything that wasn’t necessary. It’s part survivor, part revival. It’s a matching-numbers machine that runs as good as it looks and currently has almost 16,000 miles on the clock. I ride, enjoy and maintain it as it was intended to be used by its maker. It has a few tasteful upgrades to make it safe and reliable, but nothing that detracts from its originality.

Of course, no story would be good without a few bumps in the road—like the time I blew up the motor when a valve broke in half and brought everything to an abrupt stop, or my mild crash at about 35 mph. I suppose these are the types of things that either destroy or strengthen your love for something.

I could never buy such a story or such a machine—it had to be built. Unfortunately, Bib passed away a few years ago, and never got to see it quite like this. I know he’d be happy with it, and proud of what we did together. I know I sure am.

Godspeed Bib…

This article first appeared in issue 025 of Iron & Air Magazine, and is reproduced here under license | Words by Jeff Dickson | Images by Rob Collins |  Solo Motorcycle Works Instagram

Sidecar Subject: 1966 Norton Atlas Engine: Norton’s parallel-twin engine was englarged to 745 cc  to provided a good balance of power and torque for both city riding and long-distance touring. Fed by Amal carburation, the 745 cc Norton Atlas engine produced 58 hp at 6,800 rpm. Equipped with a four-speed gearbox and a heavy-duty clutch, the Norton Atlas was capable of speeds over 110 mph. Chassis: The Atlas uses a version of Norton’s celebrated ‘Featherbed,’ double-loop steel frame. Front suspension: Telescopic forks Rear suspension: Dual shocks—5-way adjustable Brakes: Front and rear drum brakes Dimensions and Weight: Seat height: 32 inches Wheelbase: 56 inches Dry weight: 392 pounds Fuel Tank Capacity: 3.5 gallons Production: The Norton Atlas was produced from 1962 to 1968 before being replaced by the Norton Commando. Timeless Design: The combination of a large-displacement parallel-twin engine and the famed Featherbed frame made for a formidable road bike. The basis for numerous ‘special’ builds, Norton Atlas motorcycles were often modified with Dominator 750, Metisse and Matchless components.

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Speed Read: Diamond Atelier’s BMW boxer track racer and more

Diamond Atelier impresses with an uber-slick BMW boxer built for the race track, while Japan’s Infiniti Motorcycle builds a stunning Harley-Davidson bobber. We also profile a brawny Suzuki Bandit 1200 café racer and the brand-new Yamaha R9 sportbike.

BMW boxer ‘MK Race’ by Diamond Atelier Diamond Atelier is back and in a big way. From hip scramblers to sleek street bikes and everything in between, the Munich-based workshop has a long list of incredible builds. For their latest release, they took a classic BMW R-series boxer and turned every single component up to 11; meet the Diamond Atelier ‘MK Race.’

Starting up front are bespoke fork clamps that hold a set of fully adjustable Wilbers superbike forks in place. A pair of giant Brembo GP4-RX superbike calipers squeeze the life out of the drilled rotors and are equipped with a set of quick-release braided brake lines, courtesy of BAT Motorsport. Lightweight spoked wheels are wrapped in racing slicks, which reveal the intended purpose of this machine (and yes, it comes with the tire warmers).

The custom fairing hides a Starlane Corsaro II Pro lap timer, with a Motogadget Motoscope mini embedded in the upper fork clamp. We love how the fairing integrates perfectly with the tank and makes the bike look fast standing still.

The custom paint splashed over the bodywork is both striking and stunning—but that is to be expected from Diamond Atelier.

The seat is cantilevered over the back wheel with a custom subframe, with the seat unit carrying over the livery. Lightweight, fully adjustable rear-set footpegs help the rider into a race position. And while the details about the final drive are light, it looks to be lifted from a BMW R100R.

The engine has been punched out to 1,070 cc and houses a racing crankshaft with the pistons treated to Formula One-grade coatings. A set of Diamond Atelier carbon fiber valve covers adorn the heads, which have been converted to a twin-spark setup. The alternator cover, starter cover, and gearbox cover all received the DA carbon fiber treatment, further reducing weight and increasing the cool factor.

A pair of new Mikuni race carbs throw fuel down the Beemer’s gullet, with the hot air exiting through a custom titanium exhaust. A box-style muffler ends under the gearbox—and while it’s far from a classic-style exhaust, it suits the MK Race brief perfectly.

With countless details to go over, it’s hard to choose a favorite part. All we need now is a full tank of gas and an open track. [Source]

Harley-Davidson bobber by Infiniti Motorcycle Running out of their new Iruma City workshop in the Saitama Prefecture in Japan, Masumi Tsuchino’s Infinity Workshop usually specializes in modern American V-twins. However, when a client from Hiroshima was hunting for a 50s-inspired Harley, the Infiniti team was more than happy to oblige. They landed on the idea of a vintage panhead-inspired bobber—with a few modern touches.

Finding a stock panhead frame in good condition is a tall order. So, to kick things off, Tsuchino-san ordered a brand new V-Twin Manufacturing Wishbone panhead-style replica frame.

Deciding that a springer front end would’ve been a bit much on the new frame, a custom set of traditional telescopic forks was built. It looks mean as heck paired with a set of Harley FL-style fork covers, while the rebuilt wheels ride on black rims and vintage treads.

A small headlight is nestled perfectly between the forks, with custom handlebars fitted higher up. White grips match the rubber footpegs, which probably add some comfort to the vibey V-twin. A new solo saddle with vintage-style seat springs offers a smidgen of relief from bumpy roads.

Even though the bike is built in the style of a 50s panhead, Tsuchino-san shoehorned a shovelhead engine from an FXWG into the new frame. The four-speed transmission came along too (with its kick-starter), and the whole thing is linked with an open primary. A suicide shifter with handmade linkages moves through the gears, while a custom exhaust flows flawlessly around the engine to exit on the left side.

Sitting low on the frame’s backbone, the custom fuel tank is long and narrow so as not to disturb the flowing lines. Paired with an auxiliary tank next to the primary, fuel flows from the top down and is pumped back up to the carb with a small electronic fuel pump; ingenious! A bobbed rear fender sits at the back, fitted with a small chrome tail light that pops nicely against the midnight blue paintwork.

They are the perfect final touches to one of the nicest custom shovels we’ve seen in some time. [Source]

Suzuki Bandit 1200 by RV Workshop The Suzuki Bandit 1200 makes a compelling argument for a café racer conversion. It’s powerful, reliable, easy to work on, and in plentiful supply. These are all things Damien from RV Workshop in France came to realize when he set about building this fantastic 1996 Suzuki Bandit 1200 café racer for a client.

The bike sports a purposeful stance, with a 2001 Suzuki GSX-R1000 front end matched to the OEM tri-spoke wheels. A new headlight, front fender, and bikini faring were bolted on, with a full suite of Highsider LED turn signals. A KOSO digital dashboard hides beneath the smoked screen, flanked by a set of clip-ons in place of the Bandit’s original upright bars.

The tank is stock but was painted metallic grey to match the fairing and other details on the bike. Combined with the blue paint on the frame and wheels, it’s clear where Damien wants us to look. The rear subframe is custom, as is the custom leather and Alcantara seat.

A delicate chain guard on the left is paired with a custom wheel hugger on the right to support the number plate and keep the back end clean. A custom battery tray hides neatly behind the carbs.

The engine was treated to fresh paint and a full brace of pod filters too. The carbs were then jetted and tuned to suit the new intake and to play nicely with the exhaust system. A stubby Leo Vince muffler finishes things off, linked to the headers via a custom mid-pipe.

This Bandit is fast, muscular, and good-looking. We bet Damien’s client is stoked. [Source]

2025 Yamaha R9 With Yamaha announcing that the road-going R1 will not be available in Europe in 2025, the announcement of the all-new 2025 R9 was all but a given. But is it a worthy replacement?

With EU emission standards growing ever tighter, Yamaha has taken their mega-popular 890 cc inline triple, and shoved it into a lightweight aluminum Deltabox-style frame with sports ergonomics. In fact, Yamaha states that the 9.5-kilo [21-pound] R9 frame is the lightest frame ever used on a Yamaha sportbike.

Average riders won’t exactly be able to feel the frame doing anything different, but they will notice the aggressive aerodynamic bodywork. A pair of wings frame the LED projector headlight and join with the upper section of the fairing. This MotoGP-inspired design has been developed in the Yamaha wind tunnel and reportedly reduces front wheel lift by six to seven percent in a straight line.

Combined with the front spoiler positioned under the ‘M-Duct’ in the middle of the fairing, front-end downforce increases to ten percent through corners; again, something average riders like us won’t notice. But hey, who doesn’t like wings on a sportbike?

KYB provides the 43 mm inverted forks, which are both high and low-speed compression and rebound adjustable. At the back is a shock that’s adjustable for preload, rebound, compression, and ride height. The brakes are from Brembo, with twin Stylema calipers and 320 mm discs up front.

Several electronic ride modes are baked in, with everything displayed on a 5” TFT color dashboard. Lean-sensitive rider aids include traction control, slide control (how fun), and brake control, as well as everyone’s favorite type of control—launch control.

The seat height is taller than we expected at 32.68 inches and with a full tank the whole package weighs 195 kg [a smidge under 430 lbs]. It’s not exactly lightweight, but we bet there’s more than a few extra pounds in that factory exhaust—if you’re picking up what we’re putting down.

The R9 is available in two colors and while we are drawn to the classic Yamaha Icon Blue, we bet the Tech Black looks incredible in person. We highly recommend hitting ‘play’ on the below video—and don’t forget your headphones. [More]

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For the Love of Go_: The inaugural Worship Moto Show report

Motorcyclists form a broad church, made up of countless factions, subsets, and niches within niches. From road to dirt, from cruisers to abusers, via more variations than any of us has the hours to map, we’re an eclectic crew above all else. Few know more about, or have done more to celebrate, the subcultures within motorcycling than Gary Inman.

Creator of Sideburn Magazine and the wild Dirt Quake events, Gary has broadened the horizons of every motorcycling publication for which he has written (which is just about all of them). This is the man who road-tested a Benelli 1130 TNT by riding it across the Sahara Desert. So when he issues a rallying cry to a motorcycling denomination, it listens.

And so, on a Sunday at a 120-year-old disused church on the outskirts of Leeds, England, a remarkable congregation of motorcycles gathered for the inaugural Worship Moto Show. In Gary’s words; “A showcase for high-performance custom motorcycles—the kind of fire-breathing Japanese inline fours that used to be called ‘specials’.”

Built in 1907, Left Bank Church ceased functioning as a church in the mid-nineties, before its second coming as an arts and events venue. Gary had the concept of the show before he had a name for it—until he discovered this venue. With its imposing facade, thick columned nave and gothic altar, this was the perfect place to worship a different kind of deity.

Machines began to roll in over the course of an overcast morning, described by Gary as “Japanese Muscle; Super Street Specials; Slabside Survivors; Turbo Hyperbikes; Silver Dream Racers; Restomods; Harris; Spondon; GPZXR1GSXRCBRXFZ KatanaNinjaBlades.” A just as indiscriminate assembly of dedicated humans accompanied them; the hive of knowledge almost as tantalizing as the metal.

Overheard conversations revealed engineers and left-field thinkers of the highest caliber, together with moto-historians of encyclopaedic knowledge. Ever wondered how many Yoshi Busas were made? The best rake and trail for stability north of 250 mph? Or how to measure the height of centre of gravity? The walls of Left Bank know.

Grins of exhibitors and volunteers spread as dream machine after dream machine took their plinths to await the ever-growing queue. Last in before the doors opened, Guy Martin and his 300 mph-chasing beast. Anticipation and excitement bubbled as the sun finally made an appearance, and the church doors swung open to welcome those who had taken the pilgrimage.

Around 40 bikes were presented in total. In an entertaining gambit, each visitor was given a sticker and invited to fix it to the plinth of their stand-out machine, and in doing so, generating a ‘Punter’s Choice’ award. You could see the anguish of that choice on the faces of many, followed by a surge of commitment and satisfaction in finding it.

At the head of the church was ‘Scud,’ the Icon x Sticky’s Speed Shop turbo’ed Suzuki Bandit. With a billet block, a lattice swingarm from Steelheart Engineering, and graphics by Ryan Roadkill, it garnered many stickers and established a norm for monstrous performance.

Down from the towering stained glass windows, one of a trio of extraordinary Race Component Development x Racefit Kawasaki Z1s eventually earned my sticker. Then on through the choir pews, past a guard of GSes (not those GSes), a surprise Italian duo awaited in the form of Death Spray Custom’s Desmosedici and a bafflingly clever hub-center-steered Aprilia. What they lacked in geographic suitability they more than made up for in uniqueness.

In the auditorium, row upon row of Kawasakis and Suzukis made their fellow Japanese brands blush with a lack of representation. Never before have so many filler caps graced so few motorcycles. Haxch Moto’s Slabshot glistened beneath the pulpit, followed by the extended ‘Rents Go Racing’ Hayabusa, making a mockery of the plinth proportions.

Amongst Harris- and Spondon-framed specials in number to make them seem almost commonplace, finally, the beautiful Neate Racing Harris RSC1000 with a Co-Built exhaust flew the flag for Big Red. Meanwhile, deBolex’s XJR1300 preserved Yamaha’s dignity.

On a font near the front, beside Guy’s unclothed sprint bike, lurked another Italian in the form of Sticky’s Speed Shop’s ‘Arfa’ [above]—one of eight bikes in attendance from the prolific builder. Its origins may have missed the supposed brief, but its build style hit the bullseye. Specials such as these smack of excess.

Alongside bespoke engineered elements lay the most desirable race parts and brands; Nitron, Yoshimura, AP, Marzocchi, Astralite, Dymag, Stack, Scitsu, Harris, Racefit, Mikuni, Keihin, Moriwaki, Ohlins, ISR, and more. It was a genre of curation, each build an assemblage of the owner’s favored treasures, combined into a prized whole.

At the final count, the People’s Choice went to ‘Godzilla‘ [above]. Not a Spondon or a Harris as many (myself included) first thought, but an astonishing home-made, big-tube special housing a GSXR1100 Turbo. What one person can achieve in a garage or shed, will never cease to amaze me.

Hot and cold beverages flowed and the thrum of conversation echoed throughout the day, before, in five short hours, it was over. As the crowds dispersed and the bikes passed back over the threshold, the heavens gave way to signal their disappointment.

“The hope is that Worship helps light a fire under these kinds of bikes, in a way that Sideburn and Dirt Quake did with street trackers and flat tracking,” Gary concludes. “The scene is very developed in Japan, but I’m excited to see a new generation of bike builders inspired to see what they can do with affordable 80s, 90s, and 00s sportbikes. It couldn’t have worked out better, thanks to all involved.”

“Worship will definitely return to this church in 2025, and maybe some others in the future, too.” For certain, all who were there for edition one will be back for the love of Go_.

Worship Moto Show | Instagram | Images by Gareth Charlton

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