Who I Am
I'm Mark Dupuis. I live in Duncan, on Vancouver Island. I spent over twenty years selling cars on this Island, fifteen of them at Duncan Honda before MS forced me to retire in 2015. This site is what came next.
I'm not a marketer. I'm not a journalist. I'm a retired car salesman with a blue-collar family, a wife, three grown kids, and a Jack Russell–Chihuahua mix named Brew who runs the place. What you'll read on Homer Shack Hub is what I actually know — about BC permits, about the trades, and about owning a home in the wettest climate in Canada.
How I Got Into Cars
I was 29 years old, fresh on Vancouver Island, when I answered a newspaper ad from Bow Mel Chrysler. The ad promised $50,000 to $70,000 a year. That got my attention.
To get the job, I had to pay $300 for a one-week sales course. Out of fifteen people in the class, only the ones who were picked got hired — and only those who got hired got their $300 back. Two of us out of fifteen got picked. A third was offered the job but never saw his money again.
The course was a week of listening to an old veteran salesman tell stories from the glory years of selling cars. He insisted on vegetarian pizza for lunch every day because regular pizza, he said, made him feel "loggy."
He gave me the best advice I ever got. Two pieces of it:
"No matter where you end up — here or somewhere else — don't stay anywhere more than a year. Keep moving."
"Never be afraid to ask for the sale. If you've spent an hour with someone, you've earned that right."
I never forgot the second one.
Twenty Years on the Lot
I started at Bow Mel Chrysler. From there I went to Tom Harris in Nanaimo for six months. Tom Harris was a shark tank — eat or be ate. I learned fast.
While I was at Tom Harris, the dealership ran a multi-brand sales event at Woodgrove Mall. I sold ten cars at that event. Six of them were Wheaton Pontiac Buick's cars — I kept walking customers over to their lot when I didn't have what they needed. The Wheaton sales manager watched the whole thing happen, waited until the event was over, and told me to come see him at the dealership.
The offer was better commission, a better bonus plan, and a demo car — which was huge in those days because most lots were getting away from giving demos. I took it. I spent three years at Wheaton.
Then one day at Save-On-Foods in Duncan, I bumped into a buddy of mine in the produce aisle. He had just been hired as the new sales manager at Duncan Honda — five minutes from where I lived. He offered me a job on the spot. It was the best move I ever made.
I stayed at Duncan Honda for fifteen years. The reason it worked is simple: I just love dealing with people more than anything. It was the perfect fit.
The story I tell most often is about the owner of Tigh-Na-Mara Resort. He bought one Accord from me. Then he came back and bought a second one. Then he brought his mom to me. After that, he gave me and my wife a free weekend at the resort. That's not a transaction — that's a relationship. And that's the kind of work I cared about.
The MS Chapter
It started with a bad back.
The doctor sent me for tests. They didn't find much — some minor arthritis. He sent me for an MRI, which took a year to get in BC. While I waited, I kept selling cars.
Then one day at work, my doctor's office called. It's never good when your doctor calls you out of the blue — they don't call just to say hi. He told me to come in. I went in. He told me to sit down. I sat down. He looked at me like he was waiting for me to cry.
He told me I had MS.
I'd heard of MS. I had no idea what it actually was. So I didn't get upset.
I learned more as the years went on and the MRIs added up. The symptoms got worse. Honda — the dealership I'd given fifteen years to — bought a golf cart so I could get up and down the lot. They put a bed upstairs so I could rest my back and legs when I needed to. They stood by me.
But it eventually got to be too much.
The wake-up call came one afternoon. I was walking back to my car after a shift, hunched over like a 90-year-old man. That was the moment I knew I had to stop.
I retired around 2015.
Why This Site Exists
I'll be honest with you, because that's how the people on this Island talk to each other.
CPP disability doesn't pay much. I was looking for something I had real knowledge or life experience with — something that could supplement what I bring in. This site is kind of a Hail Mary.
I picked BC permits, the trades, and homeownership because my family is as blue-collar as it gets. I’ve been around the trades my entire life. I know what kind of life a good trade can build for a person and their family. And I know — from twenty years of reading people across a desk — when someone in a uniform is selling you a real answer or a polished line.
The internet is full of advice from people who have never had to make it work at 2 a.m. in the rain with a customer staring at them. That's not what I'm going to do here.
Every guide on this site is built on three things:
1. It solves a real problem. Not vague filler. Specific BC homeowner and trades-career questions.
2. It comes from first-hand experience — mine, or someone I trust who lives the work.
3. It names the catch, the risk, or the safety line. If there’s no catch, somebody is probably selling you something.
If a post on this site doesn't pass those three tests, it doesn't go up.
About Brew
Brew is my Jack Russell–Chihuahua mix. He's eight years old and the boss of the house. He's the site mascot — you'll hear him on every page.
I've wanted a dog named Brew for decades. The name comes from an old Kokanee Beer commercial — a guy tells his buddy his dog can fetch a beer from the fridge. The buddy doesn't believe him. The owner sends the dog to the kitchen, and you hear the fridge open, the bottles clink, the drawer pull, the cap pop, and the dog walks back in with a cold one. I've never forgotten that ad. When the right dog showed up, the name was already waiting.
If you want to know how Brew got his job here, just press the "Hear Brew" button on any page. He'll tell you himself.
The Name "Homer"
I was 18, working at the Delta Keg back in the 80s. Keg waiters never went by their real names — you got a nickname, and you didn't get to pick it. It had to come naturally.
One waiter named Jamie passed out on a road trip and got buried under everyone's bags in the back of the van. When we opened the doors at our destination, all you could see was his face surrounded by luggage. He was "Luggage" forever after.
Mine happened differently. I was sick at home one night, on the phone with my buddy Crozby, who was working the Keg lounge. They had The Simpsons on the bar TV. I asked my girlfriend to make me a sandwich. Two seconds later — over the phone — Crozby heard Homer Simpson on the TV ask Marge for a sandwich. The timing was perfect. He went back to the bar and told the staff. By the time I came back to work, I was Homer.
It stuck. So when I built this site, Homer Shack Hub was the only name that ever made sense.
Get In Touch
If you’re trying to figure out a BC permit, weighing whether to get into the trades, or staring at a renovation that doesn’t add up — drop me a note through the Contact page. I read every message. Brew approves them.
— Mark Dupuis
Duncan, BC
Updated 2026