5 May, 7114
I should have known this was too good to last.
I have lived among these simpleminded natives nigh upon a week, and have come to respect their ways. Wake, forage, ride around in convoluted patterns, boast, eat, sleep.
Also, as I have spent more time with these people, I have noticed physical peculiarities not originally observed. For example, they seem to have developed a thick, calloused layer of skin on their hindquarters.
More importantly, I have noticed that their peculiar gait in walking is not merely due to the cleatlike protrusions on the underside of their feet. While this is certainly a contributing factor, it is not as important as the fact that they have developed an unconventional leg musculature resulting in a remarkable phenomenon: their legs always turn circles.
Astonishingly, this is now true even when they are not on their bicycles.
Alas, I fear that their idyllic life is about to come to an end. While there is considerable diversity among the many subfactions of this native village — a group who ride nothing but the banked ovalesque road, a spinoff group that eschews brakes and gears, and an irrascible crew of tiny people who want to do nothing but climb to the top of the highest hill each day — there is evidently a heretofore unmentioned tribe, which this group of natives cannot abide.
They are referred to as "The Dirty People."
I have not yet seen these Dirty People yet, but from the descriptions I have been given, I would happily spend my life in such ignorance. For these people have shunned all that is clean and elegant and light, in favor of cheap thrills, heavy, dirty bikes, and painted bodies.
They have no fear of pain, I am told, and want nothing more than to die.
And, I am given to understand, tomorrow they will be descending on these gentle natives I have come to love, and will be attacking — for no reason whatsoever — in a manner most vicious.
I look around and see no hope for these natives. Their arms are twiglike. They have no weapons to speak of. Their legs, while powerfully muscled, only turn in small circles; they are useless for kicking. These natives cannot even run.
Their only hope is to get on their bicycle conveyances and hope they can escape The Dirty People.
I am not optimistic.