I had a pint at Quenchers Saloon before I left my Bucktown neighborhood to help Mosquito run an errand at some small town in Indiana. He said he had to pick up photography equipment in a small town about 90 minutes over the state line. It was 6 p.m. on a Monday night and I had a nice Polish beer buzz and a McDonald’s chicken sandwich in my lap as we drove away on Interstate 94 before latching on to some state highway surrounded by cornfields. Mosquito can be an annoying talker during a road trip so I turned up the radio and read Chicago recluse author Clive Javanski’s latest essay, “Loose Pants.” Here we were, driving in this beat up ’82 Scottsdale pick-up…