1-800-How’s My Driving

The Jerky Boys, album 3

Title: 1-800-How’s My Driving

Characters: Frank Rizzo


In this skit, Frank Rizzo has just experienced a traumatic incident where someone backed over his legs with a vehicle. He calls a customer service line, presumably related to the incident, and begins a conversation with Voice 2. Frank is visibly agitated and frustrated as he recounts the details of the accident.

Frank expresses his dismay at the situation, claiming that his legs are now “shattered” and describing them as looking like “chop meat.” He is particularly irritated by the questions and requests for information from Voice 2, such as his name and number. Frank sarcastically questions the qualifications of the drivers and wonders if they are pulled off the streets or subways.

As the conversation progresses, Frank becomes increasingly agitated and shares his frustration with the difficulty of providing information while he’s lying under the truck with crushed legs. He humorously suggests he could give serial numbers but mocks the idea of identifying the company name. Throughout the dialogue, Frank’s dark humor emerges as he describes the gruesome condition of his legs, including a potential “mad awful stink” emanating from them.

The call takes an unexpected turn when Voice 2 mentions terminating the call, leaving Frank perplexed and frustrated. The skit ends with a suggestion to visit a “1-800 How is my driving?” service.

Overall, the skit satirizes the challenges and absurdities of dealing with customer service in the aftermath of a traumatic event, using dark humor and exaggerated frustration to highlight the difficulties of gathering information in such situations.


0:01 Phone rings…

0:02 Frank Rizzo: “Hello”

0:02 Voice 2: “Ok”

0:03 Frank Rizzo: “Yeah he backed over my goddamn legs. Now I’m standing here with shattered fucking legs that’s all I need. I just came to in the fucking hospital here. All I remember seeing is that-that little, freakin’ cute sign you have there about the bad driving.”

0:15 Voice 2: “Ok”

0:16 Frank Rizzo: “Hello?”

0:17 Voice 2: “Can I get your name and number?”

0:18 Frank Rizzo: “Aw Christ, is it always this way with you people? Where the hell do you get these drivers from? What do you pull them off the street? What is this?”

0:24 Voice 2: “Sir.”

0:25 Frank Rizzo: “Do you pull them off the subways? Christ sake this guy backed up over my legs three or four times there. They look like chop meat now.”

0:31 Voice 2: “Sir, I want to help you.”

0:32 Frank Rizzo: “Aww christ.”

0:34 Voice 2: “To help you I’m going to need to get some information.”

0:36 Frank Rizzo: “Ahh go ahead. Shoot. Shoot me some info. Go ahead.”

0:39 Voice 2: “I need your name and number.”

0:40 Frank Rizzo: “I gotta give you my name and number when I got some guy who smashed me into little pieces as a human being?”

0:45 Voice 2: “ok… well can you at least give me-”

0:48 Frank Rizzo: “If you saw my legs right now buddy you- you’d probably vomit. The damn things are sick looking. It’s horrible the fucking dog will be nipping at me in a little while with these fucking legs the way they are. For Christ’s sake.”

0:58 Voice 2: “Do you have the vehicle number at all?”

1:00 Frank Rizzo: “Aww christ, the vehicle number. All I remember a big delivery truck or some swill or some shit was dripping outta the back of that fucking thing. I don’t know.”

1:08 Voice 2: “Do you have the company name of the vehicle?”

1:10 Frank Rizzo: “How the hell am I going to see the company name when I’m busy rolling around under the fucking truck?”

1:13 Voice 2: “Sir I’m just trying to help”

1:14 Frank Rizzo: “Jesus Christ you’re asking me for company names and I’m layin under the fucking truck. I can give you serial numbers that’s about the best I can do for ya. Christ’s sake the goddamn gearbox crushed me into the ground and you’re asking me for the fucking name of the business. What do I look like a tomcat or something? A nightcrawler? Jesus Christ, go ahead shoot. ”

1:34 Voice 2: “Ok, I’ll *laughs* I gonna have to- I’m going to help you.”

1:37 Frank Rizzo: “Oh so this is funny? Are you laughing now for Christ’s sake?”

1:40 Voice 2: “No I just need to get the vehicle-”

1:42 Frank Rizzo: “Aww jeez the more I think about it the more angry I get. I’m laying up in the fucking hospital bed. I won’t be able to get myself near a fucking bottle of hooch and you’re fucking telling me it’s a fucking joke. It’s funny?”

1:54 Voice 2: “No, I’m not laughing at all sir. I want to get some information.”

1:57 Frank Rizzo: “Aw Christ”

1:58 Voice 2: “I can help you”

1:59 Frank Rizzo: “Aww man, there’s this mad fucking awful stink coming off my legs here. Must’ve been the fucking marrow or something for all I know.”

2:08 Voice 2: “Ok and what day did this happen?”

2:10 Frank Rizzo: “Aw man it happened today. I just came to in the fucking hospital now. Aww Jesus. My friend tells me you can call the numbers on these fucking delivery boys there.”

2:20 Voice 2: “Ok, what time did this happen?”

2:23 Frank Rizzo: “Time. How the fuck am I going to remember- you say time now. What are you a wise guy with the time? I’m supposed to remember the time when I’m fucking out like a light, time.”

2:30 Voice 2: “Sir, I’m going to disconnect you.”

2:32 Voice 3: “Ryan terminate the call please.”

2:34 Frank Rizzo: “Hello? Aw for Christ’s sake.”

Visit us at 1-800 How is my driving?

The skit depicts Frank Rizzo, who’s just awoken in the hospital with shattered legs after being run over. He calls the number on a driving complaint sticker he saw on the vehicle involved. Frustrated, in pain, and incredulous, he vents about the accident, lambasting the operator for asking mundane questions while he’s in agony. He sarcastically responds to inquiries about the vehicle details, exasperated by the operator’s insistence on obtaining specific information. Frank’s distress grows as he humorously mocks the absurdity of the situation while the operator tries to maintain composure, eventually leading to the call’s abrupt termination. The skit humorously highlights the irony of a hotline designed to report bad driving incidents but lacking empathy or practicality in a real emergency.