Honestly, it happened almost too quickly for Baird to even contemplate. One second he was driving, the next, he was knocked flat sideways, his perception of the world rotated about 90 degrees. It wasn't pleasant. His helmet fell off. A pack of cigarettes fell out of his pockets, lost into the turf. All the blood in his body rushed from where it was supposed to be to his skull.
Baird looked to the side as the ground came up to meet him, suddenly terrified, sure he was going to die. He opened his mouth to scream but all that came out was a surprised sounding "Aah?" as the carrier tipped, further and further to his own demise. So. This was how it was to end, eh? Pinned under his vehicle like a bloody novice?
Then Milena hopped out. Well, at least she could save herself. Baird comforted himself with that prospect, that at least it would only be his fool ass to die, then she turned back around. Moving so fast he could barely keep track of her, Milena shoulder-checked the UGC back into place, the ponderous, tan form of the Desert Oasis tipping, tipping, then finally righting itself thanks to the counter-momentum provided by the intrepid NECO.
Baird jumped in his seat. All the gear in the carrier had suffered one, final re-distribution as the last jarring shock from being forcibly righted took it's toll. There still wasn't any time to waste though. He was shaken, but training kicked in.
"Good work Milena!" Baird shouted, entirely too loud. How could anything be heard over that awful tone in his ears? "Thought I was a bloody feckin' goner, that!"
He stood up in his seat, hopping out of the carrier. He picked up his helmet as he went, the pack of cigarettes long gone, and squatted by the carrier's hit side to inspect the damage therein. His ears were ringing something fierce, but that was okay. He was alive. Alive! He's just hoped the damage to the carrier was fixable, or else things would get 'interesting'.