On a street in the 13th arrondissement of Paris, a bike repair shop, L’éco réparateur de vélo, operates with the familiar rhythm of that bike life. Wheels spin in repair stands. Chains click across cassettes. Parents roll in cargo bikes with kids in tow, commuters arrive with punctured tires, and weekend riders drop off gravel bikes for a tune-up before their next adventure.
Behind the workbench stands Sunil Lamakulu, a mechanic whose journey to this moment began thousands of kilometres away in Nepal, in a childhood defined by curiosity, improvisation—and the simple joy of riding a rented bicycle.
Today, Lamakulu is believed to be the first Nepali bike mechanic to open his own shop in Paris. But his story is less about milestones and more about persistence: a decades-long journey shaped by migration, music, manual work and an enduring belief in the freedom that bicycles can bring.
A Childhood of Curiosity
Lamakulu grew up in a poor family in Nepal, where mechanical curiosity came long before any formal training.
“I used to spend my time watching a car mechanic who worked about 50 meters from our home,” he recalls. “I was very interested in his work, observing the different techniques and sometimes helping by bringing tools.”
Nearby, two small bike repair shops also captured his attention. One of the mechanics’ sons was his friend, and whenever Lamakulu managed to save a little money, he would rent a bicycle.
Those short rides became unforgettable.
“Riding a bike made me feel free and happy,” he says.
But because the bike was rented by the minute, every ride came with a clock ticking in the background.
“I used to ride fast and go long distances while constantly checking my watch minute by minute to make sure I returned the bike on time,” he says. “If I was late, they would charge me for another 15 minutes, and I had no extra money.”
Even decades later, the memory remains vivid.
“It was really fun,” he says. “And I still love those memories.”
A New Life in France
After finishing school, Lamakulu left Nepal for France, arriving in Paris on December 28, 1999, where his sister had already been living for nearly a decade. For several years, bicycles faded into the background as he learned French, worked different jobs and adjusted to life in a new country. He spent time playing guitar, socializing and exploring the city.
But cycling eventually found its way back into his life.
“Around 2006 or 2007 in Paris, I started cycling again and felt the same sense of freedom,” he says.
That sense of freedom had deeper meaning for him.
Sunil Lamakulu in his Paris shop, L’éco réparateur de vélo
“I also felt a lot of pressure from my mother to succeed in life because we were a poor family and she had a very difficult life,” he explains. “Riding a bike gave me the feeling of freedom, because I wanted to be free from all that pressure and from society’s expectations.”
For Lamakulu, cycling became more than transportation.
“For me, life without freedom is not really life,” he says. “I found that freedom in cycling, and also in music.”
From Crepes to Chains
Lamakulu worked many jobs in Paris over the years—waiter, delivery driver, musician. At one point he even ran a crepe stand from a tricycle in the city.
But the turning point in his cycling journey came during a vacation on Réunion Island during the pandemic lockdown.
“With the restrictions, the only way to go out was by bike,” he says.
The only bike available was an old one that had been sitting outside for a long time, barely functional.
“I fixed it with whatever resources I had,” he says. “And I had a lot of fun riding it for a month.”
Back in Paris, he decided to pursue the craft seriously. In October 2021, he enrolled in a professional training program in bicycle mechanics and reuse, completing more than 500 hours of coursework and additional internship hours working on a wide range of bicycles.
The experience solidified what he already suspected: repairing bikes wasn’t just work—it was a calling.
Building a Reputation One Repair at a Time
After earning his certification in 2022, Lamakulu began gaining experience by volunteering with self-repair associations such as CycloCube.
Soon he started working independently as a mobile mechanic.
“People began coming to me, and I also repaired bikes near my home,” he says.
Word spread quickly. His clientele grew organically. Parents bringing their children to school noticed him because his own kids arrived by bike. Neighbours recommended him. Online reviews accumulated.
Before long, he had built a loyal following.
By 2025, his reputation had grown far beyond the neighbourhood. With hundreds of loyal clients, the next step became obvious.
When a subsidized commercial lease opened up just 500 metres from his home, Lamakulu seized the opportunity.
Today, L’éco réparateur de vélo, his new 47-square-metre shop has become a hub for cyclists in the area.
Explaining Bikes in a Second Language
Opening a bike shop in Paris would be challenging for anyone. Doing so as an immigrant from Nepal added another layer of complexity.
“In France or other non-English-speaking countries, it is really hard,” Lamakulu says. “It is not enough to know the language—you also need to know technical mechanical vocabulary in French.”
And in a city with a deep cycling heritage, customers often come with plenty of questions.
“French people are very curious about bikes,” he says. “Some questions are very technical, while others are simple questions from people who do not know much about bicycles. They want to understand the problem and the solution for what they are paying for.”
Simply fixing the bike isn’t enough. Explaining the repair clearly matters just as much.
“So for someone coming from Nepal to explain bicycle mechanics—and even the history of French bikes—to French people in their own language, in their own country, is something special,” he says. “It is something that makes all Nepalis proud, not only me.”
Sunil Lamakulu
A City That Fell in Love With Bikes
Lamakulu’s career has coincided with a remarkable shift in Paris’s transportation culture.
Over the past decade—and especially during the pandemic—cycling has exploded across the city, helped by major investments in bike lanes and policies designed to reduce car traffic and pollution.
“It was amazing to see how quickly people changed their habits,” he says.
The shift is visible in his shop every day.
In his residential neighbourhood, families often arrive with long-tail cargo bikes used for school runs. Meanwhile, weekend riders bring in road and gravel bikes for longer adventures outside the city.
Vintage French bicycles also remain popular.
What surprises many newcomers is how quickly cycling becomes a habit.
“After people get used to cycling,” he says, “they often don’t want to take public transportation anymore.”
A Community Shop
Despite the growth of L’éco réparateur de vélo, Lamakulu still approaches the work with the same humility he learned growing up.
Honesty, he says, matters.
“French people appreciate explanations about repairs,” he says. “At the same time, they appreciate honesty and seriousness.”
Maintaining his reputation is a constant focus.
“It is a big challenge to maintain a 4.9-star rating for a long time and to stay among the best in town while competing with French mechanics,” he says.
His goal is simple but ambitious.
“My goal is to be in the top 10 bike mechanics in Paris.”
And in a city increasingly defined by cycling, that role feels meaningful.
“I also hope that cycling culture continues to grow in Paris and that more people use bikes for their daily transportation,” he says. “By encouraging people to ride bikes, I feel that I am contributing something positive for our planet.”
Advice for the Next Generation
Lamakulu knows his path is unusual. Many Nepalis in Europe work in restaurants or trade businesses, and younger generations are increasingly entering fields like technology and engineering.
Bicycle mechanics remain rare.
But for anyone considering a similar path, his advice is simple.
“Don’t be afraid to start small,” he says. “Keep learning and be passionate about what you do.”
Success, he believes, comes down to a few timeless qualities.
“Perseverance, honesty and hard work are the keys to success,” he says, “even in a foreign country.”
It’s a philosophy that carried him from a childhood watching mechanics in Nepal to a bustling repair shop in Paris—a journey powered, fittingly, by two wheels and a deep belief in the freedom they represent. 🚲