Brothers, we gather with the rumble of engines in our hearts to say goodbye to one of our own. A man who was as much a part of this club as the steel in our frames and the asphalt beneath our tires. We remember our brother, Jerry “Bear” Brand.
Bear was a man forged in a different time. Born on August 21, 1948, he came of age when the world was on fire. He answered his nation’s call and went off to the jungles of Vietnam, serving his country as a combat engineer from ‘68 to ‘69. He was a double Purple Heart recipient, a quiet testament to the price he paid on foreign soil. He came back a man who understood the cost of freedom, not from a book, but from the mud, the sweat, and the fear. He carried that strength with him every single day. It was in his eyes, in his handshake, in the way he stood his ground.
When the Hualapai Mountain Chapter was born back in 2016, Bear was there from the very first spark; the second patch in the state of Arizona. He wasn’t just a member; he was a cornerstone. As the VP, he wasn’t a man of empty words or political bullshit. He was a man of action. His office wasn’t a desk; it was the side of the road, the garage bay, or right here, shoulder to shoulder with his brothers. He led by example, and his example was one of unwavering loyalty.
And if you knew Bear, you knew his code. It was simple, it was pure, and it was as libertarian as it gets: “Mind your own damn business.” He wanted to be left alone to live his life, and he extended that same courtesy to you. He didn’t judge. He didn’t pry. He just wanted the freedom to ride, to work on his machines, and to be at peace. But make no mistake, that “leave me alone” attitude came with a fiercely protective edge. He was a bear, and you don’t poke a bear, especially when it’s defending something it cares about.
He loved dogs. To Bear, a dog wasn’t just a pet; it was a soul, a companion. And if you ever mistreated one in his line of sight, you found out fast what that “Bear” nickname meant. He would go from zero to a hundred in a heartbeat, and you’d be staring down a man who would not back down. He was a protector of the innocent, a guardian for those who couldn’t speak for themselves.
That’s the Jerry I knew. Not just the warrior or the VP, but the brother. I’ll never forget the time I was struggling with a dead battery in my truck. Before I even knew about it, Bear was there. No words, no questions. He just grabbed his tools, replaced the battery, and had me on the road. He didn’t do it for thanks. He did it because that’s what brothers do. He saw a problem, and he fixed it. That was him.
His other great love was for the machines of a bygone era. He had an eye for old cars and motorcycles, seeing the beauty and the story in rust and chrome. He wasn’t just collecting them; he was preserving history, keeping the spirit of the open road alive in every piece of steel he touched.
Bear lived a full 77 years. His ride ended on Friday, November 28, 2025, but he didn’t die a stranger. He died surrounded by his legacy; this club and the countless lives he touched, and he was laid to rest with his colors on, a brother to the very end – the genuine article.
So, we raise a glass to Bear. To the man who demanded nothing but freedom and gave nothing less than his whole self. His ride is over, but his engine will forever echo in our hearts. His memory is now part of the Libertarians MC, part of our creed, and in the wind on the open road. Rest in peace, Bear. We’ve got the watch from here.
