From the outside, it looks like just another business in the generic, white building that’s dotted with homogenous white and blue signs denoting the tenants who rent the space. Passing through the double glass doors of the space marked with the Prairie Ridge sign, though, it’s clear this isn’t any normal strip mall suite.

In the entryway, visitors are welcomed by a hefty chunk of a dilapidated wooden fence hanging on the wall from a thick, rusty chain. Scrawled messily on the makeshift sign in white and light blue paint are the name and the catchphrase to the suite that houses many of Ankeny’s youth: “The Father and Son Junkyard. We can salvage anyone.”

Tucked away in this generic white building at 1928 Southwest 3rd St. in Ankeny, the Junkyard serves as a second home for Doug Applegate, part-time youth director, and Jeff Kennel, volunteer.

It’s a Wednesday afternoon, and the two 30-somethings are at the Junkyard. Each is sitting back in one of the many vintage couches that litter the space. Right now the place is empty, save for the two of them. But on this night, a litter of kids will show up for P.R.A.Y. (Prairie Ridge Awesome Youth group).

Scrawled in red paint on a wall is the mission statement: “The P.R.A.Y. group wants to live for God every day by helping people learn about God, reaching the lost and making friendships.”

And on the youth group members’ way inside to the lounge, they will be reminded to remain positive by a white, shabby looking toilet. With an arrow that points down to the bowl, the message scrawled on the open lid reads: “Deposit your bad attitudes here.”

A Makeshift Venue

But the space is more than just a youth group lounge. One Saturday night a month, the Junkyard opens its doors to bands — non-religious bands included, but under a few conditions.

“We open it up to secular bands as long as they’re not cussing or singing about drugs and sex,” Kennel says. “Our vision is to have a welcome place for kids to come.”

And not just welcome by the kids’ standards. Kennel and Applegate strive for the Junkyard to be a location where parents feel comfortable sending their kids, knowing no trouble will ensue.

At the same time, the future of the Junkyard lies with the kids, which is exactly the reason the space is now transformed into a venue on occasion.

“A couple kids that were in a band were like, ‘Cool. You guys have space? Can we play there?'” Applegate says.

Ames band Poison Control Center has already played the venue, and arty Midwestern rockers Troubled Hubble and Story City’s Duck and Cover are scheduled to play April 12.

The lounge-turned venue holds about 400 people. There’s no cover for the shows, but rather a suggested donation. All shows start at 6:30 p.m.

Arty Atmosphere

The Junkyard is an unusual venue, literally filled with pieces of junk. In fact, the junkier, the better. The ripped, run-down couches and recliners were all donated by members of the community. But not all donations are accepted.

“We went to pick up this couch from this lady and it was nice,”Applegate says with disbelief. “We didn’t take it. It was too nice.”

The vintage, ramshackle appearance creates a comfortable, careless feel. Nothing matches. Not even close.

A beat-up trash can has been made into an end table. A refrigerator discolored with age sits against the wall covered sporadically with stickers. It doesn’t work, but instead houses a stereo.

Towers of tires with messages like “Jesus Died For You!” scrawled on them are stacked everywhere. An old sink now serves as a magazine rack. Decrepit, discarded doors lean against the walls, as well as old arcade video games. Hubcaps. Lockers. Chain-link fences. A silver-colored car hood and matching door now serve as an upcoming events magnetic board.

All of it are aged, run-down pieces of trash that had been abandoned before being salvaged by the Junkyard.

“It’s kind of like that saying, ‘God don’t make junk,'” Applegate explains.

And just like the run-down foosball table and brown vinyl school bus seat were salvaged by the Junkyard, so will the souls of people, or so organizers hope. But the Junkyard isn’t just about building a relationship with God.

“Hopefully it’s not just a Christian thing,” Applegate says. “Hopefully it’s because of the fact that we care about them. We want to be friends with them. We want them to come out and hang out. So hopefully that’s what it’s about.”