Gods be praised, the others were actually useful. Even the gimp at the wheel was pulling his weight by continuing not to kill everyone with his driving much to Jak-jak's surprise. Momentarily he glanced up to Ashe who looked all the world as though she was having the time of her life cart surfing and feathering the oncoming enemy. She must have either been high as a kite or suicidally brave. Whatever the case she was being useful and would hear no complaints from him for the moment. It wasn't like he'd have the chance to fuss at her anyway- the violent lurching of the cart damned near flung him from the vehicle entirely, and it was all he could do not to get thrown out and crushed beneath the wheels of friend and foe alike. As he srabbled and scraped at the chassis of the vehicle with his legs now being dragged along the aisle floor Jak-jak felt a sharp pained fill one of his ears as Thresher dug his claws into the hood and used his jaws to clamp down onto one of the only things in reach to guard against being thrown free himself. He cursed loudly, understanding the reasoning behind the action, but getting annoyed by it all the same. 

A shout resonated from within the cart. Pitch weight to the right? Why the hell would he want that? The aisles were already getting uncomfortablly close enough for the hunter's liking as is, and now he was expected to risk getting squashed entirely? With a strained grunt he pulled himself half back into the cart with his free arm and immediately crinkled his nose in further aggravation as he realized a dead guy was taking up half his seat. Poor bastard that he was, Jak-jak never got a chance to ask what the hell that was about before the cart pitched even more violently than it had before. Being that he was on the passenger side and therefore the right (praise be to the Wal and their Americanness), he didn't really have to do much to direct his weight to help. He [i]did[/i] however have to sacrifice his spear to keep a grip on the cart. It was for the best though; losing his spear served to fuel the fire that was Jak-jak's salty little soul just enough for him to maintain a decent his grip despite the burning that filled his muscles as he silently prayed to whatever gods that could be bothered to listen that he survived this. Not out of any sense of self preservation, mind, but for the simple fact that he didn't want to die sober.