Buying a used motorcycle online involves an act of faith. I’ve only done it once, when I bought my Honda Valkyrie Rune sight-unseen over the Internet from a dealer in Cape Town. The bike was exactly as advertised and I’ve been delighted with it ever since.

I had a similar vibe when I decided to buy a 1999 Honda Valkyrie Interstate in Pretoria last week. Valkyries are a rare sight in South Africa, and I wanted this one, so my wife and I flew the 1,100-odd kilometres to Johannesburg and then were driven the remaining 35 minutes to Pretoria by our daughter Nicky.

The trip was beautifully planned. We’d pick up the bike, spend a couple of days getting important stuff done in Jo’burg, then fold up our large tote bag into one of the panniers, drop our clothes and other belongings into the other pannier and the commodious topbox, and head south on Good Friday. We’d even booked a nice-looking B&B in Smithfield to break up the 1,200km return trip.

The bike looked good when we arrived at the dealer, all bright and shiny in its green-and-silvery-white livery. I dropped to the floor and checked out all the stuff that would worry me – this would be my fifth Valk and I knew what to look for. The engine protection bars were scratched and flattened underneath on both sides, suggesting the bike had been dropped at least twice, but no other damage was visible. All else seemed well, and the nicely polished wheels and forks told me that this bike had never seen salt.

Closer inspection of the paintwork, however, showed some scuffs and scratches on the panniers, handlebar fairing and left silencer, where a careless boot had missed its target many times en route to the side-stand. Two of the four chrome rings around the rear lights in the topbox were badly dented. All of this was mildly irritating, because I like my bikes to look like new even if they are 20 years old, but it wasn’t a lot of wear and tear for a 1999 bike and maybe I could live with it for now.

The engine fired up readily and sounded fine, so I headed out for a short road test. The brakes felt a bit spongy on the forecourt, but I rode out on to the street and down to the first traffic light. The light was red, so I braked – or tried to. Nothing much happened of a retarding nature, so I braked harder. The front brake finally brought the bike to a stop, but the rear unit seemed to play no part in the process. Bugger!

The same things happened at the next four traffic lights, so I took it round the block a second time to get a better feel of things. No, this didn’t feel right. Back at the dealership, the proprietor told me the brakes had been checked by his mechanic and that these were heavy bikes and didn’t stop as readily as a sports bike. I ignored the lesson in the finer points of riding large motorcycles and instead asked if I could take the Interstate to the Honda main dealer I’d spotted just up the road.

The salesman said sure, but said they wouldn’t look at it – “trust me”. It was clearly a personal import from the US rather than an “official” Honda South Africa bike and they wouldn’t want to know. I insisted, however, and he made a call and set it up.

The Honda guys were very helpful. Their mechanic took the bike around the block and came back agreeing that the brakes weren’t good. He suggested the problem might be old brake fluid, air in the system, and what looked to him like non-standard (ie non-Honda) brake pads. All of which could be fixed quite easily, for a price.

More worryingly, he said he could hear an unusual noise from the rear wheel area. He couldn’t pin it down but wondered whether it might be coming from the gearbox or the final drive. I thanked him and rode round the block one final time; I couldn’t hear the noise he’d mentioned, but for me the damage was done. Here was a 20-year-old bike with no service history, terrible brakes, too many scratches, two owners since its arrival in South Africa and no sense of how many before that. To cap it all, it had a mystery noise coming from the final drive or the gearbox.

Sometimes you just have to walk away, and that’s what I did. It was very much a bike I wanted, and the chances of finding another were slim, but it was offered as needing “to be seen to be appreciated” and it clearly wasn’t in the sort of condition that phrase implied. I spent several hours online trying to find an alternative large touring bike for sale in the greater Johannesburg area, but there was nothing that remotely appealed. The Internet trawl did bring up something at the other end of the spectrum, however: a 1988 Yamaha XT500 for almost no money just 45 minutes from home, so that’s a project bike to be investigated soon.

For now, we simply cancelled the much-looked-forward-to road trip, and the pre-booked overnight accommodation, and found two affordable plane tickets back home. The Interstate was not to be. Oh, that’s our two-year-old granddaughter Phoebe in the picture – hence the headline. Unlike the bike, I couldn’t resist it…

My friend Steve Walker told me that the ideal number of bicycles to own is one more than you need and one fewer than your wife will permit, which put me in a quandary last week. Does that rule apply to motorcycles, too?

My wife Peter loves her Triumph Tiger 800XC, as do I – a superb all-rounder with an amazing engine. But she’s never been truly comfortable with the seat height, despite lowering the suspension by 40mm, or the weight. Wouldn’t it be better, she mused, to sell it and get a two-up touring bike for our travels in southern Africa, and get herself something smaller, lighter and more manageable?

I resisted until it was plain that she was serious, then went online to search for a Honda Valkyrie. Why? I love Valkyries. I’ve owned four: the first for two years in Hong Kong, the second for five years in the UK, and the third also in the UK for five years and counting. The fourth is the Valkyrie Rune that graces my garage in Plettenberg Bay.

It’s a combination of the look, the feel, the performance, the handling, the smoothness and the comfort. Yes, there are bikes that look and feel better (maybe), handle better, are faster and more comfortable – but not with the same mix.

I found one Valkyrie for sale – one, in all of South Africa. It was an Interstate, in green and white, low mileage, with panniers, top box and handlebar-mounted fairing, and it looked pristine. However, it was in Pretoria, about 1,250km distant, which made inspection difficult. The dealer helpfully answered all my questions and sent a bunch of high-res photos, and it seemed like this was The One, literally as well as figuratively.

Peter and I had a long-standing agreement that if I wanted a new bike I needed to sell one of my four in the garage, partly to finance the purchase, partly to create space for the new arrival, and partly because I don’t get enough riding time on any of the four as it is. I decided to sell the Ducati Sport Classic 1000. I love that bike and have owned it from new since 2006, but it’s done only 3,000 miles in all that time. With a single seat and sporty riding position it’s never going to be our tourer. Besides, it has more than doubled in value in that time, so the decision was made.

I figured the Duke would take a while to sell (it’s been a week now and no calls yet), but happily found some spare cash nestling in some almost-forgotten shares, and duly sold them. The Valkyrie could be purchased after all, and the Ducati be sold in its own good time. Perfect!

I decided to peruse the ad for the Interstate one more time (as one does). The listing now read “This bike has been sold”. Sold! Oh my God! Not to me – I’d held back until I had the cash to pay for it. It was early evening now and too late to call the dealer. Horrors!

Hey, if it was sold, it was sold – my bad luck. So I did the natural thing and started to search online for another suitable touring bike. And that’s not so easy, especially in a relatively small market like South Africa. What to buy? A Gold Wing? Possibly. Too much plastic for my taste, only two for sale, high miles, high price. A BMW 1600? Lots for sale and way too pricey. A BMW 1200/1250 flat twin in one of its guises? No, everyone’s got one, wonderfully sensible, but not my thing – and also very pricey. A Harley? No, never – everyone’s got one and having ridden several I’m not impressed by their performance or dynamics. And they’re too expensive for what they are.

I drifted off to sleep, the problem unsolved. Next morning, I called the dealership in Pretoria and found to my blessed relief that the Valkyrie was still for sale. Whew! I made an offer, which was accepted, and I’ll take delivery on 16 April. Peter and I will fly up to collect it and have a bit of a road trip on the way home.

I’m now the delighted owner of three Valkyries on two continents. The Ducati is still for sale, if anyone is interested (it’s still appreciating in value). And I’ve answered my question based on Steve’s comment about bicycle ownership: the ideal number of motorcycles to own is simply the number you can just about squeeze into your garage.