In the video for the Blonde opener "Nikes," we see the image of him wearing white gloves at the wheel of what appears to be his McLaren, shifting into gear. These feelings are immediately universal, but what makes Frank Ocean's mention of cars distinct is that the otherwise highly private artist uses them to give us a glimpse into his personal journey.
It's why D'Angelo could cover Smokey Robinson's "Cruisin'," Rihanna made the pop hit "Shut Up and Drive," and Prince immortalized the sensual nature of a little red Corvette. In the tradition of great pop songwriting, the car and the act of driving are enduring metaphors for mood, status, and aspiration. The essay is the most obvious example to date of the particular way Frank Ocean uses cars in in his writing to unpack exactly how automobiles have shaped him. But the allusions to seat belts (restraint), rearview mirrors (distance), and the physics of spinning wheels (life cycle) don't require under-the-hood knowledge to appreciate. He remembers those project BMW E30 M3s he made with friends, and appears to have used as cover art on his acclaimed mixtape Nostalgia, Ultra. He doesn't care, because Frank Ocean loves cars. He is enchanted by the visceral power of Formula 1 racecars and wonders what that says about his identity, and his unshakeable lust for what is on the surface, overtly masculine and cliche. In the essay on the Tumblr account that accompanies his site-specific magazine and album release of Blonde and Endless, Frank Ocean asks, "How much of my life has happened inside of a car?" He recalls his time in a "sinewy crossover SUV," how his manager once rescued him from a bad trip in a Porsche truck, and how after money and fame and London living, he ordered a Porsche GT3 RS, essentially because as a made musician, he could.