Fiercely independent, John Torres Shows it is possible to transform what one sees as trash into another person’s treasure

Story and Photos by Giles Clasen

John Torres hates when people look at his amputated leg and pigeonhole him or feel sorry for him.

“Some people look at my leg, stare at my leg — but I don’t give a fuck,” Torres said. “Some people think I need a lot of help, but I get by fine on my own. It kind of pisses me off when people insist on helping. I can do about anything and will ask for help if I need it — which I don’t.”

Now, Torres spends his days scavenging anything he can from alleys and dumpsters. Torres makes an okay living finding, repairing, then selling items on Craigslist and Facebook Marketplace.

Torres lost his leg nearly 18 months ago on account of diabetes. He had faced infections and sores for a long time. His leg developed blisters, which caused painful wounds that wouldn’t heal, and those slowed him down.

“It wasn’t nothing to lose it. It had to go. It was making me sick. I had sepsis; it wasn’t good,” Torres said.

He has a very matter-of-fact demeanor when talking about the amputation.

Torres doesn’t lament his leg, and as he talked about losing it, he repeated several times, “It had to go.” Then, after a pause, he said, with a wry grin and in a soft tone, “I never thought I would have a leg like this, though.”

While he may not mourn the loss of his leg, Torres misses the community that was once North Denver and the neighborhood where he grew up, surrounded by family members who have since passed away. To honor his loved ones, Torres had a custom tattoo designed with the names of his grandfather, grandmother, and mother listed in one work of art on his left arm. He calls it “the dead arm,” a living memorial to what he has lost.

Torres canvases neighborhoods, alleys, and dumpsters for anything of value. He considers it work that is good for his community, the environment, and himself. He is proud that he can find something broken, destined for the landfill — and by showing another person’s trash a little love, he can transform it into a new treasure for someone else.

Torres is always on the hunt for items he can make new again. One evening, he received a tip that a mini fridge was sitting in a nearby alley. There also happened to be an abandoned grocery cart near the fridge, so Torres wasted no time getting the shopping cart just right as he positioned his motorized wheelchair. He then lifted his good leg out of the chair, and stood on the concrete, his amputated leg propped on the scooter’s seat. Leaning on the cart for balance, Torres pivoted quickly, wrapping his torso and arms around the fridge. His movement was practiced and intentional. Once he had the fridge within his grip, Torres lifted it and then quickly packed it for the journey home.

Torres refers to what he does as both work and a hobby. It gives him purpose and some money. He also enjoys the adventures scavenging offers.

“I see it as a treasure hunt. Every day I am searching for something new, something I can sell,” Torres said.

There is a lot of skill and a lot of luck in scavenging. It is tough to find a diamond in the rough; sometimes it is even harder to find the right person to buy what Torres has found, repaired, and returned to service.

He collects disability and has stable housing. But sometimes, money is hard to come by, and his disability payments only go so far. The extra income he earns helps pay the bills.

Torres is known to travel 50 blocks a day or more in his scooter, zigzagging through alleys and residential streets.

“I charge my scooter and I go,” Torres said. “Just because I’m disabled doesn’t mean I’m going to stop. Losing my leg won’t stop me.”

Torres said a lot of people go through depression when they lose a limb or face other serious medical issues. While Torres is upbeat, he acknowledges that he also suffers from depression but says he works hard to fight it and live as normal a life as possible.

Torres has the support of his girlfriend, which has been monumental for him.

“Sometimes I get down a little bit. But she says, ‘It doesn’t matter, babe. I still love you,’” Torres said with a smile.

Torres strives to be the first to find items he believes are worth selling, even though someone else cast them aside.

“I’ve got four mortal enemies,” Torres said. “The trash man, skunks, raccoons, and the pawn shop. The trash man’s doing his job, so you let that go. The skunk and raccoon — they don’t know any better. But the pawn shop... they’re thieves. They want to give you nothing in exchange for gold. Pawn shops steal from me, so I only have hate for them.”

(And yes, Torres has been sprayed by skunks while working.)

When he comes across certain items, Torres sees them as small kindnesses that brighten his day. For example, he came across a TV placed gently against a trash can — as though it had been left there just for him. Torres looked the TV over and noticed a scratch on the surface of the screen, but there was no other damage. He was confident he could buff out the scratch and make the TV as good as new. He then put the remote control in his chair’s storage and lifted the TV to his lap.

With the shopping cart full, Torres flicked his chair’s joystick and motored forward, faster than any jogger or a Lime scooter could keep up with. Then, he proceeded to another neighborhood, another set of alleys to patrol, certain he could fit more in the shopping cart before he headed home.

Editor’s Note: This story first appeared in the September 2022 issue of the Denver VOICE.

Transforming the Discarded

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