This is the device I spent many a summer afternoon listening to Miami Sound Machine on—not the one in my photo the other day. That was my second portable, and as near as I can remember, I didn’t get that one until after I’d moved to San Francisco—although I have no memory of where or when exactly I acquired it. Getting old sucks.
(As cringeworthy to read as they are now, I’m so glad I kept journals of my adventures in The City from 1987 thru 2001. It’s almost I knew at the time at some point they’d be the only way for me to verify when shit happened.)