Some motorcycles are all about the machine. Others are every bit as much a reflection of the remarkable people who build them. Minty, this exquisitely crafted Yamaha SR500 café racer, falls firmly into the latter camp. Because while its pastel paintwork, flawless proportions and beautifully considered engineering demand your attention, it’s the marvellous man behind the spanners who truly makes this story worth telling. Meet Phil Leeke, an engineer whose life has been shaped by motorcycles long before he ever dreamed of building this stunning Yamaha.
For Phil, motorcycles were never a hobby; they were simply life. Growing up in a family motorcycle business, engines, racing and engineering formed the backdrop to his childhood. Before most kids had mastered riding a pushbike, he was already throwing motorcycles around motocross tracks, competing in sidecars and karting, while absorbing mechanical knowledge that couldn’t be taught in a classroom. His grandfather, Bill Webster, was a meticulous engineer, successful road and track racer, and eventually team manager for MV Agusta UK. Although Bill passed away in 1963, decades before Minty would exist, his influence echoes through every carefully crafted component on the bike.
That passion naturally evolved into a career. After completing an apprenticeship as a toolroom machinist, Phil spent twenty years at Bentley Motors in Crewe, working across manufacturing, engineering, certification and project management before taking early retirement in 2019. But while his professional life revolved around some of Britain’s finest automobiles, his heart remained firmly with two wheels. Solo adventures across Europe aboard his Harley-Davidson XR1200 and KTM 990 Adventure satisfied his appetite for travel, yet there was always another motorcycle quietly taking shape in his imagination.
When the time finally came to build it, Phil deliberately started with nothing more than a 1984 Yamaha SR500 frame and a 1979 engine. Rather than cutting apart a perfectly good survivor, he preferred the freedom of creating something from individual pieces. It also suited another philosophy that guided the entire project: Kaizen. Why buy £400 rear shocks that would sit unused for months? Two pieces of timber served the same purpose until the suspension was genuinely needed. Tyres followed the same logic. Every purchase happened precisely when the build demanded it, allowing the project to evolve organically instead of becoming an expensive shopping list.
Perhaps the most remarkable part of Minty’s story isn’t found in its specification sheet at all; it’s where it was built. Without a garage or workshop, Phil spent nearly three years working outside at a simple bench, filing, cutting and polishing parts through sunshine and rain alike. As each component reached the standard he demanded, it graduated indoors to the warmest, cleanest workshop available: his living room. It became an unlikely assembly line where painstaking wiring, careful fitting and final assembly took place. In an age where social media celebrates gleaming workshops packed with CNC machinery and laser cutters, there’s something wonderfully refreshing about a master craftsman producing this level of work with patience, hand tools and relentless determination.
That same philosophy guided every engineering decision. Phil intentionally avoided television builds and social media inspiration until major decisions were irreversible, refusing to let fashionable trends dilute his own vision. Genuine Yamaha components were retained wherever possible, while many of the custom-made pieces remain almost invisible to casual observers. The beautifully sculpted heel guard alone consumed countless hours with nothing more sophisticated than a hacksaw and patient hand finishing, despite CNC machining being the obvious modern solution. It’s exactly the sort of detail most people will never notice, yet builders like Phil know it’s there, and that’s reason enough.
Mechanically, Minty walks the perfect line between faithful restoration and sympathetic evolution. YSS springs and emulator valves sharpen the front suspension, matched to fully adjustable YSS units at the rear. An SRX swingarm, wheels and rear brake combine with a Yamaha XTZ1200 front caliper, while an EBC brake disc required its own carefully hand-fabricated mounting solution.
Beneath the tank, the single-cylinder engine received the attention it deserved after worn piston rings revealed an earlier assembly issue. The cylinder was bored to its final oversize before receiving a forged Wiseco piston, a high-capacity Kedo oil pump and a Mikuni TM36 flatslide carburettor, with a race cam already waiting in the wings for the next chapter. Wrapped in unmistakable Bianchi-inspired pastel colourway and rolling on period-perfect Pirelli Phantom tyres, Minty feels less like a custom and more like the SR500 Yamaha might have built had the café racer movement never ended.
What makes the motorcycle so successful is that it never loses sight of its roots. Early café racers weren’t built by celebrities or television personalities. They were ordinary enthusiasts modifying everyday motorcycles with whatever skills, materials and ingenuity they possessed. Phil’s approach honours that tradition perfectly. This isn’t a motorcycle assembled from a catalogue of expensive parts; it’s a deeply personal expression of decades spent learning, observing and refining his craft. Every hidden bracket, every carefully considered modification and every subtle engineering decision speaks quietly of experience rather than ego.
As for the stunning images, they come courtesy of Cheshire-based automotive and portrait photographer Rahul Tukol, whose documentary style proved the perfect companion to Phil’s labour of love. Eschewing modern photographic shortcuts in favour of a digital medium format camera paired with a manual-focus lens, Rahul’s philosophy mirrors Phil’s own: slow down, trust the process, and let craftsmanship do the talking. Shooting Minty on the streets of Crewe, where Phil grew up, the result is more than a gallery of beautiful motorcycle photographs; it’s an intimate portrait of a remarkable man, an exceptional machine and the place that shaped them both.
[ Photography by Rahul Tukol ]