The other day, I was walking down a fairly steep hill when two little girls swept by me on tiny bicycles, wobbling along and picking up speed. Behind them trotted their anxious mother, shouting, “Bremse! Bremse!” Die Bremse, of course, is the brake.
The other day, I was walking down a fairly steep hill when two little girls swept by me on tiny bicycles, wobbling along and picking up speed. Behind them trotted their anxious mother, shouting, “Bremse! Bremse!” Die Bremse, of course, is the brake.