Whoever says we don’t have seasons in Hawaii is missing out: Summer surrounds us in the blossoming shower trees, the full moon rising over Diamond Head and floating out over the sea, the feeling of freedom and possibilities in the rosy early morning and fading evening light, the good fellowship shared by surfers, bicyclists, walkers and joggers on the cliffs.

This doesn’t include the Segway tours, which I’ve seen force babies in strollers out of the way while their leaders shout, “Aloha!” Nor the woman in the SUV who whipped into an unsignaled U-turn in an intersection, nearly taking me out as I crossed Diamond Head Road with my surfboard under my arm.

But at Makalei Beach Park, a bicyclist waited at the bottom of the hill so I could have the sidewalk to myself. When I thanked him, he smiled and said, “It’s firing out there!” He meant the surf was breaking big.

Of course, summer on the South Shore also means the surf’s exponentially more crowded.

There’s that sinking feeling you get when certain surfers paddle out: The hogs, the inept. They share an incapacity to wait their turns: They paddle around you to get deeper inside the breaking curl and claim priority, even if they can’t make the wave. And they go for every wave. If they miss it — waste it — they show no remorse.

There are newbies to Suis, like the longboarder whom Captain Cal has dubbed “Beeb” after Justin Bieber.

“He has the hairstyle. I’ve seen him on the beach with his towel, combing it up.”

Beeb wears form-fitting trunks, not baggy boardshorts, if you please, and when he muscles onto a wave and finds his feet, he wobbles back and forth, windmilling his arms.

“You know what Beeb told me?” the Captain asked. “He said he was going to start coming to Suis all the time because there were too many kooks at Tonggs.”

Because it’s so crowded, many surfers will paddle for the same wave as the surfer with priority, ready to hop on it if he misses it, or drop in if he catches it. The groms, those insouciant youngsters who surf in packs, have this wired.

Usually, when I see someone paddling with the right of way, I don’t go. I’m too cautious and polite. Or so I thought until the other day when I left work late, darkness was falling, and I had a 30-minute bike ride ahead of me.

There was only one bike left in the Biki rack near my office, and a man who works in my building was adjusting the seat and checking the tires. Then he turned his back and walked toward the kiosk at the far end. Aha! He didn’t have a pass — he had to use his credit card and follow the prompts on the screen. I ran over, slid my pass into the slot next to the bike, pulled it free and hopped on.

“Hey!” the guy yelled. I smiled, waved and sped off.

In the land version of an unethical surf move, I’d snaked him.

Next day, repentant, I bought a chocolate cupcake and presented it to him with an apology.

“Oh, so that was you!” he said with a smile. “It’s OK.”

SOMETIMES AT Suis we get a window, as surfers call those rare intervals of 15 minutes or so when the crowd vanishes, leaving only two or three of us out.

“I’m surprised there aren’t any groms,” the Captain said during a recent summer window.

“Maybe they’re on surf trips to Fiji.”

“Well, you know what they say: The farther away you go, the better it is.” He looked to the horizon and back at me. “Maybe they’re trying to get away from us!”

This had never occurred to me, but it made perfect sense. We probably weren’t always the best role models, from a grom’s point of view, especially in those irresistible moments when we behaved like groms.

“In the Lineup” features Hawaii’s oceangoers and their regular hangouts, from the beach to the deep blue sea. Reach Mindy Pennybacker at mpennybacker@staradvertiser.com or call 529-4772.