“Although repairing bicycles is quite exhausting, being able to do my part for the community brings a kind of happiness I've never experienced before.”
This sentence comes from 56-year-old British man Philip Mehl. Once a suit-and-tie executive in banking, he put down his briefcase after retiring two years ago and settled in a corner of Balestier Road, Singapore. With hands stained with grease, he is now writing a warm new chapter in his life.
Philip first came to Singapore in 2019 for work, originally planning to stay just two or three years. However, the country's diversity and unique charm quietly won his heart. Wanting to give back to this land, after retirement, he used his own savings to rent a shop and voluntarily repair bicycles for the public. To date, more than 4,000 bikes have been revived by his hands.
This good deed is far from a passing whim. Philip has loved cycling since he was young, and learned all his repair skills on his own. While cycling around Singapore before retiring, he often saw migrant workers riding noisy, rusty, broken-down bikes. “Back then I thought, these minor problems would only take me 10 minutes to fix — why not help them out? That was where my motivation started.”
In Singapore, where every inch of land is precious and efficiency is valued, Philip’s “money-losing business” often raises eyebrows. He admits that having had a smooth and comfortable career, he’s now able to live well and hopes his shop can help people in the community who can’t afford repairs — mainly seniors, youths, and migrant workers. He doesn’t charge for labor; if parts need replacing, customers only pay at cost price.
However, in today’s world where “there’s no such thing as a free lunch,” most people greeted his shop with suspicion at first: did “free” mean sloppy work? Was it some kind of scam?
In the face of doubts, Philip always smiles broadly: “Don’t just take my word for it — have a look at the reviews on Google.” Today, nearly 250 spontaneous all five-star reviews on the internet have become the strongest proof of his reliable service.
Pleasingly, this kindness is spreading in the little shop: customers who can afford it will voluntarily drop money into the donation box to help those in need; Philip also collects old bikes donated by customers, refurbishing them before giving them to charities.
Many neighbors and customers are touched by his passion and often bring him his favorite curry puffs and cookies as treats. Talking about these “love-packed snacks,” Philip laughs and admits he’s put on weight, “These might not be too healthy, but they’re all absolutely delicious!”
Not Just Repairing Chains and Tires—More So Supporting Those Carrying Heavy Loads in Life
In the interview, when asked about memorable customers, Philip is most affected by a 17-year-old girl.
He recalls that one day, the girl pushed in an extremely battered bike with a frozen, rusty chain. Because the condition was so poor, he casually asked, “Is this really the bike you want fixed?”
To his surprise, the girl lowered her head in embarrassment and fell silent. When she heard that part replacement might cost S$20, she suddenly began to cry, hesitantly saying she wanted to give away the bike.
Philip says his heart ached, and he immediately decided to repair her bike for free. He later learned that because her bike had broken down, she actually pushed it about 10 kilometers to his shop, and that this was her only mode of transportation to school.
At this, Philip’s eyes redden and his voice chokes up. Pausing, he continues, “Sometimes when I’m busy fixing bikes, I may overlook the human touch. I should have been more sensitive. I feel ashamed for that careless question.”
It was that deeply touching experience that made Philip realize: what he repairs in the shop isn’t just cold chains and tires—invisibly, he’s supporting ordinary people who are struggling at the bottom rung of life.
Recently, after coverage by the media, Philip’s good deeds have truly “gone viral,” and his daily repair volume has jumped from three bikes at first to around 30 recently.
Asked if he worries about his kindness being taken advantage of, Philip remains sanguine. He admits that when he first decided to do this, his friends tried hard to dissuade him, worried it would overwhelm him. “I think, if that day really comes, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. In a way, it would be a ‘sweet burden’.”
Having repaired thousands of bicycles, Philip has no plans to set himself any targets, only wishing to help as many as he can: “Maybe in the future I’ll be able to rent a bigger shop. Now I’ve already received many requests from people who want to volunteer here.”
Kindness asks neither about nationality nor about cost. It simply whirs quietly along, riding out ever farther, on each turn of the chain.
