I got run into in Glenfarg, Scotland, by a nurse in a Russian car, when I turned she hit the accelerator accidentally. My bike was a former Yamaha 500 and I was an ex-biker, and ex-out-door guy who loved trekking. After two years of operations spread out between Scotland and Sweden, some years of physio and job training (while still in a wheelchair) I was back at work almost exactly eight years later. But I haven't trekked one yard since then, not even started a motorbike.
You definitely don't have to have more speed than I had (20 mph) to die if a rugged, old-fashioned car like that Lada pushes you sideways coming at around 70 mph straight into my left leg, and by the force I flew through the air and banged into a Volvo (no damage to the Volvo) after a short trip through the air. After 13 operations I lost count, and around seven years after the latest operation (there might be more planned) I was back driving 18-meter articulated buses, downtown.
On the way up through Britain, we had been passed by a guy who knew what he was doing, taking the turns like a pure artist over the Borders. Half an hour later we found the remains of his motobike. He had driven straight into the side of a car that reversed out from a garden with high bushes, and the road made a slight sweep just there, so he had probably seen the car just too late. He hit the little car on the left side with a massive force (almost cutting the car in two, so the female car driver didn't die at once, but he was a goner, definitely.
in the next major city a scooter had collided in a four-way crossing, and of the scooter, there was next to nothing left (all the plastic parts had exploded but the car looked repairable. The police wanted to send the kid to hospital, but he said that take her, I don't need any checkup!
The scooter driver, a youngster, had followed traffic rules while the young lady hadn't. The kid was a walking wounded, while girl was a goner, mentally. this happened just south of Edinburgh, and then it was my turn!