Well, the old 1950s espresso beast usually ran its boiler at about 120‑150 psi, a single‑boiler design that kept the water at a steady 190‑200 degrees Fahrenheit. The steam line was a different story, with a higher pressure of around 140‑160 psi for that nice, frothy froth. The boiler itself was roughly a two‑liter capacity, not much larger than a kitchen jug, and it had that little thermostatic relay that would sigh and shut off when it hit the target temperature. Now, when I crack open a rotary phone, I’m looking for a different kind of nostalgia. The dial mechanism is a tiny gear train that makes a satisfying click every time you set a number—those little clicks are the phone’s way of saying “I hear you.” The handset has a small capacitor and a resonant coil that give it that unmistakable buzz when you pick up. The quirks are the squeaky pivot point of the handset and the worn‑out rubber on the tip that you have to replace to make it feel alive again. Both machines have their own little quirks that make them sing, one with steam and one with a dial.