I've become a hood ornament more times than I care to relate.
When I used to commute into Boston/Cambridge, I'd average about one collision a year. Most were of the fender bender variety, since nobody goes very fast in Cambridge (not for want of trying). Of course when a car is the bender and I'm the bendee, I tend to fare a bit worse than the car.
I got quite adept at working with insurance companies, and supplemented my income with insurance settlements. Mostly I just wanted them to pay for fixing my bike, but sometimes there was enough damage to me that we got into pain and suffering. The insurance companies generally were cooperative, since most of their claims were car accidents involving thousands of dollars, so a bike accident to them was small potatoes.
The opening gambit was generally "I want a new bike." Mostly, they didn't blink an eyelash at that, since, again, we were talking several hundreds of dollars when they were used to dealing with thousands (remember, this was some time ago when a decent bike really could be bought for less than a K). Occasionally, one would quibble and start talking depreciated value, but then I would threaten to lawyer up and they would become much more agreeable. This was quite a good scam, I would put in for the cost of a new bike, then combine the battered remains of the old bike with my vast parts inventory, and a new bike would arise from the ashes. One of my bikes I actually named "Phoenix" for that reason. One company actually came out and carted away the old bike, a great sadness since it was a nice Cannondale frame that with the application of a few replacement parts could have rejoined my rolling stock.
Pain and suffering is curious. One settlement I got made me realize that there was an incentive to have the case drag out as long as possible. Turns out that when I finally received a check, the amount was calculated on the duration of my suffering. In this case, there was damage to some non-essential body part, but there was a formula that took into account loss of conjugal bliss. Susan actually had to sign a form absolving them of future liability for causing her loss of nookie. And the amount was based on the elapsed time from accident to settlement when I was allegedly off my game in the husbandly duties arena.
Several of my collisions ended in cash payments. Mostly it was to cover some bike part that got pranged, usually a wheel, and I'd make a rapid assessment of damage and come up with a figure. This was better all around, since I got instant gratification and the driver didn't have their insurance rates go up. I never was able to be run into by high rollers, though, where I might go for a Rolf wheel instead of usual bargain basement variety.
My most dramatic one was when I was about a block from my office in Cambridge. It was a classic screen play, I was coming down Binney street, there was a large semi truck in the left hand lane preparing to turn left thus completely hiding everything on the other side of the road. As I came by the truck, out of nowhere a car appeared going across in front of me. I had no chance to stop, and she almost got clear of me, but, noooo, I ended up colliding with her rear quarter panel. I quickly became familiar with the meaning of the term "face plant" as that was the most prominent part of my anatomy that hit the pavement. This was the only time when I actually engaged a lawyer, David White, fellow cyclist, who I highly recommend. The ER surgeon was pretty good in sewing my lip back together, so there was no permanent scar, which is one of the conditions for pain and suffering. Besides, wearing a beard you couldn't see it anyway. And the driver had minimum insurance, so no big settlement here, I had to keep my day job.
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