A life of bikes.
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The cloud service that stores my pictures woke me up today with "memories from 4 years ago." Looking at those pictures, I can transport myself back to where I was, and I can guarantee you that I would have never imagined that in four years I would be opening my own bike shop in Amsterdam.
The Han from four years ago probably didn't believe what he could accomplish with effort and the right company. It was a long, windy, rocky road. Thousands of bikes back on the road, thousands of miles on top of an S3, thousands of happy people.
Life is crazy, friend. I was in a dark place when I left Vanmoof—a real dark one. I was lost in drugs and booze, with no job, no money, and almost homeless. I managed to find a job at a bike shop where I eventually ended up living in the basement—a dark, dusty, and humid basement. It took a couple of months for me to get myself back together and find a new home. I used to work 14 hours a day at that shop just to make ends meet.
Little by little, things started to settle. I decided to stop smoking joints but was still drinking and having fun with that colombian nose candy I guess it was how i managed to stay focused and numb the feelings to push through. I'm not proud of every part of that journey, but it did help me survive. Eventually, the day came for me to leave those habits behind as well.
It was then that life smiled back at me. I guess when the student is ready, the teacher appears, and she appeared in the form of a beautiful woman who is now my partner.
Full of energy and life, I decided to fix bikes after hours. That’s when I chose to leave the shop and start my own company. Hanmoof was born, and for two years, I worked the streets of Amsterdam as a mobile repair man.
Come wind, rain, hail, snow, sun, or storms, I wouldn’t stop. It was fun but also very demanding on the body. Clients were all over the place, and even though Amsterdam is a relatively small city, it was still a lot of biking up and down carrying parts and tools on my back. What a ride. I even went all the way to Japan to fix bikes; today I look back at that and can’t help but be amazed.
In November 2025, I found a nice, tiny little workshop in a shared workspace with an amazing group of creators called Barespace—you should definitely check them out. It was a temporary solution, but it was the first space I could call a shop. It was awesome, and more and more bikes were coming in, but the day came when we had to leave since it was an anti-squat solution.
For a moment, I felt the pressure of not having a space anymore. Maybe it was time to go back to the road. Then, my partner shared a shop she found online. To be honest, at first I was insecure, mostly because of the rent.
One day, the real estate agent called to say the place was available, so my partner and I went to check it out. Linnaeusstraat 100. How cool—100. When we entered, it was still a store full of home decor, with very high ceilings and an awesome location. There was enough space for three workstations. It was a dream. My partner told me that these places get rented out super fast, so if I liked it, I should say yes and we would figure out the rest later. What a Queen.
I asked the realtor for a morning to think about it. My partner and I walked down to the canal and sat on a bench. My heart was pounding. We looked at the water and saw a reflection of a rainbow; in the Buddhist tradition, that is a great sign.
A thought came to me: "Han, you took so many risks in life doing the wrong stuff—risks that could have cost your life—and you still took them. Why are you apprehensive about taking a risk on something good?" It’s just business. What is the worst that can happen? If I go bankrupt... so what? It’s just business. Right there and then, I looked at her and said, "Okay, let’s do it!"
And we did. A dream came true right there on a sunny summer day in Amsterdam. After the bureaucracy was finished, we got the key. We worked so hard—and are still working—to fix up the place, but it already looks awesome. We had the front window hand-painted by amazing artists from Sign Painters Amsterdam, painted the shop, skimmed the walls, and started organizing everything.
So if you can Stop by at Linnaeusstraat 100. I would love to hear what you think of the shop. If your bike has problems, just book an appointment and I will be more than happy to help you.
The Han from four years ago probably didn't believe what he could accomplish with effort and the right company. It was a long, windy, rocky road. Thousands of bikes back on the road, thousands of miles on top of an S3, thousands of happy people.
Life is crazy, friend. I was in a dark place when I left Vanmoof—a real dark one. I was lost in drugs and booze, with no job, no money, and almost homeless. I managed to find a job at a bike shop where I eventually ended up living in the basement—a dark, dusty, and humid basement. It took a couple of months for me to get myself back together and find a new home. I used to work 14 hours a day at that shop just to make ends meet.
Little by little, things started to settle. I decided to stop smoking joints but was still drinking and having fun with that colombian nose candy I guess it was how i managed to stay focused and numb the feelings to push through. I'm not proud of every part of that journey, but it did help me survive. Eventually, the day came for me to leave those habits behind as well.
It was then that life smiled back at me. I guess when the student is ready, the teacher appears, and she appeared in the form of a beautiful woman who is now my partner.
Full of energy and life, I decided to fix bikes after hours. That’s when I chose to leave the shop and start my own company. Hanmoof was born, and for two years, I worked the streets of Amsterdam as a mobile repair man.
Come wind, rain, hail, snow, sun, or storms, I wouldn’t stop. It was fun but also very demanding on the body. Clients were all over the place, and even though Amsterdam is a relatively small city, it was still a lot of biking up and down carrying parts and tools on my back. What a ride. I even went all the way to Japan to fix bikes; today I look back at that and can’t help but be amazed.
In November 2025, I found a nice, tiny little workshop in a shared workspace with an amazing group of creators called Barespace—you should definitely check them out. It was a temporary solution, but it was the first space I could call a shop. It was awesome, and more and more bikes were coming in, but the day came when we had to leave since it was an anti-squat solution.
For a moment, I felt the pressure of not having a space anymore. Maybe it was time to go back to the road. Then, my partner shared a shop she found online. To be honest, at first I was insecure, mostly because of the rent.
One day, the real estate agent called to say the place was available, so my partner and I went to check it out. Linnaeusstraat 100. How cool—100. When we entered, it was still a store full of home decor, with very high ceilings and an awesome location. There was enough space for three workstations. It was a dream. My partner told me that these places get rented out super fast, so if I liked it, I should say yes and we would figure out the rest later. What a Queen.
I asked the realtor for a morning to think about it. My partner and I walked down to the canal and sat on a bench. My heart was pounding. We looked at the water and saw a reflection of a rainbow; in the Buddhist tradition, that is a great sign.
A thought came to me: "Han, you took so many risks in life doing the wrong stuff—risks that could have cost your life—and you still took them. Why are you apprehensive about taking a risk on something good?" It’s just business. What is the worst that can happen? If I go bankrupt... so what? It’s just business. Right there and then, I looked at her and said, "Okay, let’s do it!"
And we did. A dream came true right there on a sunny summer day in Amsterdam. After the bureaucracy was finished, we got the key. We worked so hard—and are still working—to fix up the place, but it already looks awesome. We had the front window hand-painted by amazing artists from Sign Painters Amsterdam, painted the shop, skimmed the walls, and started organizing everything.
The future looks awesome, and to be honest, nothing would be possible without you. To everyone who supported my work through these years—customers, online friends, my loved partner, my family, and my kids who helped me paint and organize—thank you. My oldest son who worked with me this summer thank you.
Little by little, I am starting to understand what interdependence means. Everything is connected.
So if you can Stop by at Linnaeusstraat 100. I would love to hear what you think of the shop. If your bike has problems, just book an appointment and I will be more than happy to help you.
Life goes on and things change, believe in your dreams and be true to yourself.
Once again to you,
Thank you.