The firemen were SO nice and offered to let him sit inside. I set him up on the front seat (which is no mean feat. At five foot three inches, I could BARELY get him up there. Don't let these pictures fool you, those suckers are TALL) and he loved it. He kept saying "truck, truck" over and over. Then when the firemen discovered I had never been in a fire truck, they told me to hop in there and took a couple of pictures for us. I don't know who was more excited, me or Harrison. Don't let his facial expression fool you, he was loving it. He is just a cool character who doesn't like to wear his emotions on his sleeve.
After thanking the firemen profusely, we went inside where I had to deal with the fallout of Harrison grieving his separation from the fire truck. I don't know which one he was more sad about leaving, the fire truck or the wheel, because as he cried he alternated sobs of "truck" and "wheel."
I love how nice people are to little kids here in LA (maybe because there just aren't that many of them?) Just the other day Harrison was excitedly waving at a recycling truck, and the driver waved happily at him and honked his horn as he drove by. Such a simple thing, and these guys totally make Harrison's day. Thanks truck drivers of LA!