About Us

Most people don’t see the value in scrap metal. They see the rusty appliance gathering dust in the garage, the old car sitting on cinder blocks, the pile of leftover copper pipe from a job site. They see junk. Something past its useful life. Something to get rid of.

Our owner, George, saw it that way for a while, too. He just didn’t realize he was talking about himself.

George had always been an entrepreneur. His instinct to find opportunity was sharp from a young age. The problem was, it was aimed in the wrong direction for most of his life.

For decades, he had run-ins with the law and cycled in and out of prison on a variety of charges. He even earned a nickname, Time Bomb, from being locked down in a jail cell 20 hours a day.

It wasn’t until two chance encounters that everything changed.

The first was with a prison volunteer who invited George to a weekday church service. It ended up being just the two of them. Five words hit differently than anything he’d heard before.

You haven’t surrendered to God.

By the time he walked out of jail for the last time in 2004, George was a different man. Time Bomb was gone. In his place was someone people would come to call Preacher Man. But his criminal history followed him out of the prison gates, too. Background checks ended conversations before they started. Society had looked him over, decided he wasn’t worth much, and moved on.

What they missed, what almost everyone misses, is the same thing most people miss when they look at a pile of scrap: the value hiding within.

That realization came through his second chance encounter, with a man named Toyota Jim, who taught George that a car is worth far more than the sum of its parts. The hidden value in a catalytic converter. The batteries. The copper wires. The aluminum wheels. A junk car could become a small fortune, if you just changed how you looked at it.

In 2008, the federal Cash for Clunkers program turned a hundred-car expectation into 1,400 vehicles in his yard. Miraculously, George did a million dollars in used tire sales that first year alone. He scaled up. The yards grew. One Denver location became two. Then came Texas.

And the whole time, he ran the operation the way he wished someone had run one for him: fair prices and real respect for every customer who walked in to his scrap yards.

George also proudly hires people other businesses won’t, former convicts coming out of the system who need someone to believe that a background check doesn’t tell their whole story. 

That same spirit built All Brothers in Christ, the nonprofit he founded to do prison outreach, give away cars to families in need, and partner with Food Bank of the Rockies. He’s visited prisons across the country and traveled to Haiti six times, showing up for people in the same places he once sat.

There’s a reason George says he’s in the people-helping business. Scrap metal is just the mechanism to do it.

Because it turns out the things the world writes off, the old metal, the beat-up cars, the man with the record, often have more value than anyone realized. You just have to know how to look.

We’ll take what others overlook. Bring us your scrap.