You’d be right (sort of) but it is far more complex than just spring stiffness in a commercial airliner. Airliner landing gear, like the suspension in a modern car, has two components in the longitudinal (to the strut) direction: a spring, which provides a constant stiffness that increases resistance in proportion deflection, and a dashpot or damper, which has a variable resistance based upon some proportion (not necessarily a linear function) to the speed of suspension travel. On most modern cars these are combined together into a single part called a strut, which is what keeps the chassis from collapsing upon the axles.
Large aircraft landing struts have a long travel, and the dampers are typically very compliant at low speeds, which allows this springy, bobbing travel when driving across the tarmac, but provides adequate stiffness at higher strut travel speeds to resist aircraft landing loads without overtravel or destabilizing the aircraft. The cost of this is heavier, longer landing gear, and as Sam Stone points out, this is a parasitic cost in terms of the aircraft’s primary functional mode of locomotion, which is to fly. Larger airliners to have a fairly sophisticated landing gear, but for something like and Embraer, there’s definitely a limit on how much weight, and thus how much strut travel, is permissible. (There are also other limits based upon the loading envelope and ground handling characteristics, but we’ll ignore those for the purposes of this discussion.) It’s also the case that the unsprung weight–that not supported on springs–of the landing gear is pretty light. This is good from a handling performance standpoint (hence why high performance cars like to use aluminum wheels, and other lightweight components) but it also means that it doesn’t serve as much of an inertial damper to loads transmitted to the airframe.
Those “invisible” flaws in the surface of a taxiway aren’t so invisible, either. There’s probably a permissible maximum, but some taxiways are pretty rough. The actual runway, however, has definite limits on flatness, crowning, washboarding, and other defects, and even at very high takeoff speeds the ride is pretty smooth. (It doesn’t hurt that the faster you go, the more weight is supported by the wings.) It all looks small from above, but the flaws are real New York City potholes from the surface.
To answer the second question, the loads seen during taxiing are insiginificant compared to those that the airframe sees in flight and during landing. For the airframe, the life limit is typically based upon fatique in the wing joints and/or vertical stabilizer, and cracking in the aluminum skin of the wings. (Yes, there are often cracks in the wings of a used airframe, and they’re allowed to grow to a specified length before repair. This is a very well understood phenomenon, and at least in the U.S. and Europe there are very stringent requirements on inspection and repair of airframes, so the failure of a commercial aircraft from airframe structural failure is almost unheard of, short of some other aggravating circumstances.) Taxiing is such a short part of the process, and the loads on the wings–which are based strictly on their own weight–is much lower, albeit in the opposite direction of flight dynamics–that they aren’t really an issue. It may seem rough to you, but taxiing loads are quite a bit less than loads from even moderate turbulence.
Stranger